Love, Rubi ❦ H.S.

- four -

"I don't do slutty clothes baby".

"Well I do. And you don't wanna feel left out, do ya'?" I smirked to myself. He paused for a moment and scoffed before answering.

"Fine. You win this time, stranger. I'll see you tonight."

The phone clicked as the line went dead. Hm. Now I know how easy it is to make the most famous man in the world right now put on a show for me. I snapped my phone shut and placed it on the counter, pondering my morning over a pot of instant coffee.

How does one out-slut a man whore?

How do I make him dance for me?

Since I now knew how simple it was to flirt my way into a stupid, made up dress-up contest, how much simpler can it get? And how do take his cocky attitude down a few notches?

Harry is a rock artist for fucks sake. I'm sure there's dirt on him on the Internet. If I wanted to get into his head, I had to do my research.

~

I walked down the crowded streets of East Village. My oversized Fruit of the Loom hoodie zipped up to my neck, the hood thrown over my head, practically covering my eyes. It was too fucking cold. I looked down at my feet as I walked quickly, keeping my hands in my pockets. I had decided to head over to the Tompkins Square Library, since it was the closest place with accessible computers.

My fingers mindlessly fiddled around with the preroll that was buried deep in my hoodie pocket as I walked into the arched doorway of the stone building. I took my hood off out of courtesy. I didn't want a sweet old librarian to think I was about to rob them blind of all of their precious books.

The air in the library was warm. I could smell the pages of old books mixed with the dust that topped their shelves. I sniffled as said dust reached my nose.

I lapped through the seemingly never-ending shelves and made my way to the computer area. I spotted a free one, sitting down on the flimsy plastic chair in front of it. I crackled my knuckles as the computer loaded and typed the two magic words into the search engine.

Harry Styles.

Immediately, over 500,000 results popped up. Holy shit.

It was mostly basic information. Stuff any average fan would know off of the top of their heads. His birthday, his height, an article about his favorite songs. Boring.

I kept scrolling. Wiki pages, pictures of him taken onstage, as well as multiple editorial shoots done by Rolling Stone Magazine. Wow, he's a model too. Not at all shocking.

I scrolled and scrolled until I saw an article that caught my eye.

"The World's Most Appealing Young Rockstar: Harry Styles." Bingo!

I clicked the link, promptly faced with a paparazzi photo of Harry leaving a luxurious hotel here in New York. He was wearing a black silk button down, similar to the one he wore last night. His chest was exposed as the hem of his shirt blew behind him in the wind. One of his tattooed arms was pointing towards the sky, and the other was slung lazily around the shoulders of a girl. The girl was dressed in all black. She had long brown hair that was blowing in the wind behind her. One of her hands was covering her face, her manicured fingers knit closely together so that you couldn't make out her features. I rested my hand on my chin and scrolled down to the rest of the article.

"The 23 year old superstar is spotted with a new woman by his side quite often. But what about him is so appealing to these young girls that throw themselves at him, begging for a chance to share his bed at night?"  Ah yes, someone using their free time wisely to spew petty comments at the someone who doesn't know of their existence. That's my kind of person.