Go {Harry Styles}

Chapter 1

"Please, just one drink? You don't even have to dance." Jillian says dragging me to the door. I pull my hand out of her grip.

"Jill, you know I won't. I am not going to be able to everything you want to do. Sometimes I want to stay home alone, unlike you! I am just not the party type of person, Jillian." I say to my best friend and she groans.

"You need to learn to live a little, Becs! It's always, 'Oh I'm sorry I don't want to, I need to finish this book I like started just today!' and never 'Let's go party, bitches!' It's like I have to force you out of your shell sometimes! And that's nearly impossible by itself; I just want you to have fun, Becca. But I can't give you fun if you don't want to have fun and refuse to have any sort of contact with it!" Jill rants. I feel my heart die a little inside. Do people really see me as that? A stuck up snob who would rather stay home and read Divergent rather than go partying all night? I can party a little. I think about my options.

I could go to the party, get wasted, and make stupid choices I will regret in the future. Or I could finish up this great novel I just started reading. But maybe it is time for me to step out of my shell a little.

"Fine. Just let me get ready first, okay?" I tell her and she squeals in delight. She pulls out her phone and starts texting some person I don't know.

I change into a neon pink dress that I stole from Jill with bright green heals. Since it's Glow-in-the-Dark-Night, I apply glow in the dark eye shadow from an old photo shoot.

Most people are surprised when I tell them I am a model. Yeah, I am a quiet, shy girl who probably wouldn't do this on a normal daily basis. But I don't like being stereotyped by people, which is partly the only reason I am doing this.

I am tired of people stereotyping me. It's annoying and it's especially annoying when it's true. Like how people stereotype white girls.

I finish curling my hair. I look at my reflection and look at the girl I have grown up to be.

As a girl, my dream was to become an author or be a fashion designer. Instead, I am cutting off meals just so I can keep a steady income. I see fake. I am fake. I am that stereotype mean girl that cakes her face in makeup. Why did I start modeling if I never wanted to be in the business anyway? That's the question everyone asks me. I thought it would be easy. But it really isn't.

* Flashback *

"You would be a great model for the photo shoot. But you would need to drop six or seven pounds. You'd get $50 dollars for the shoot."

Well, I do really need the money. I guess dropping a few pounds wouldn't hurt. "Yeah, sure seven pounds isn't anything." I reply smoothly and sign some papers the lady hands me.

* Flashback Over *

My career in boosted after that shoot. Now here I am. I look away from the mirror, embarrassed of myself. I walk out and Jill smiles at me. We hook arms and walk out of the living area together and through the front door.

"Welcome to the party life, Rebecca Williams, I hope you enjoy your stay."

•

One shot.

Two shots.

Three shots.

Four shots.

Drunk, stumbling around, completely and totally intoxicated.

Dancing.

Grinding.

Humping.

Getting sloppy kisses and returning them.

What have I turned into? I am stumbling around a club with no care in the world. Is this the party life? If so, I want back into my old life.

As I am stumbling out of the club, suddenly regaining my better conscious and judgment, I fall off the curb. Well, I guess the alcohol is still in my system. I cry out in pain as I feel a stab in my ankle.

A boy around my age rushes towards me, he lifts up my ankle and grimaces.

"Looks like you twisted this, love. I can drive you to your house if you want, you're obviously too drunk to handle yourself." he says to me and I stare into his green eyes.

He had green eyes, brown curly hair that was pushed back with a hideous bandana, and plump pink lips. For some strange reason, I trusted him to drive me to my house.

I nod. He holds a hand out to me and I take it with no hesitance at all. Maybe the alcohol is still in my system. It's affecting me, obviously. Why was I so stupid enough to take so many shots? If anything, I was probably trying to drown my thoughts about myself. But it's like I can't. My thoughts can't drown, no matter how much alcohol I consume.

If I wasn't stumbling around drunk and lost, I probably would have gone looking for Jill. But I am drunk and lost, so I am acting different as the alcohol intoxicates me. Damn alcohol. Fuck everything. Fuck the modeling agency. Fuck my life. Just fuck everything.

"Do you want me to carry you?" the boy asks me as he sees me wincing in pain. I nod and he picks me up with ease. "Wow, you're really light."

"Why do you seem so surprised?" I defend myself.

"I wasn't trying to be rude, it was a compliment." he says.

"Oh, then thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm Harry, Harry Styles."

"I'm Rebecca Williams." I say, introducing myself and my name. Some part of me was screaming for me to not let him take me home, but before I could stop myself from saying anything, I was already home.

Harry carries me to the front door and I look at him for a long time. He grins.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer." he smirks.

"Yeah, right. Thanks, though, for taking me home." I tell him and he gives it a dismissive wave of his hand.

"You're welcome. And if you ever need anything at all, here's my number." he says and hands me a slip of paper with his name and number scrawled on it in tiny writing. I nod and he walks away, back towards his car. I look down at the card he gave me.

Harry Styles Cell #:

(751)-555-9034

I glance back up and his car is gone.

So here I am, standing in a short, tacky dress and makeup still thinking about a guy that could've used me for sex. But he didn't. He didn't use me for sex, no matter how drunk I was. It was like he cared, even though I had just met him. Yet he also had the bad boy vibe like-

What the hell am I rambling on about? I should go inside, I'm obviously not thinking clearly. I force my feet to move towards the house and go inside. I crawl into my bed with makeup still on my face and completely pass out.