Here’s a relatively quick update! Got it out faster because I woke up to almost twenty comments after one night. Comments and votes equal Redbull and Monster combined. Haha. But seriously. It’s true.
Enjoy!
_______________________________________________________________
I heard him.
I heard what Harry said to Liam. Well, part of it. I heard when he said, “I don’t know how to Liam. How do you tell your best friend that you love her?” the moment I heard that my heart started beating erratically and I had to try my hardest to keep my breathing normal. And pretend that I was waking up slowly, when really my brain was going off at a hundred miles an hour.
Harry loved me. He god damn loved me.
I couldn’t actually process what was going through my mind right now, and the fact that he actually returned the emotions that I felt for him. I had to act normal though; Harry didn’t know that I had his confession.
I continued on with him as I normally would, taking silly pictures, and making crazy videos that had the flight attendants yelling at us. Everything was going perfectly normal, but then Harry decided to tweet something.
He tweeted about bullying. Usually I was able to push away my ever controlling emotions in that sort of situation, but this time, the heartfelt words he used, as well as the emotion he seemed to put behind them, had me unable to keep my face blank.
I probably picked the wrong words when I thanked him for what he had tweeted. It sounded too personal, it sounded like I had been involved; it sounded like I had been bullied.
As much as I’d like to say that I hadn’t, that I went through my secondary education only worrying about the next party and who my date to prom was, I couldn’t. Because I had been bullied.
For my first two years, I was average, to say the least, I had my close friends, and I socialized with people in my classes. I was happy. But then The Party came, the party that ruined my life.
I hadn’t wanted to go; it was a more senior crowd of kids, there was drugs and liquor, and a lot of hooking up. I was content with staying at home watching reruns of Downtown Abbey, but one of my friends, Liz, decided that she wanted to go, and she was going to take us with her. So somehow, I found myself in a dress, heading to Lucas Copper, the school’s golden boys, house. I was the designated driver, so I wasn’t going to drink; the party was going to be terrible on my end. But I made a stupid mistake and accepted a cup of what I assumed to be coke from someone. It turned out to be spiked with vodka, and before I knew it, I was drunk off my ass. Then I made the choice that would ruin my life, and make my last two years of required schooling a nightmare.
I got into a catfight with Mackenzie Hanson. The head cheerleader; your stereotypical blonde whore that had sex with anything male. Extremely bitchy. And that night, extremely wasted.
I said some things I probably shouldn’t have said, overall making her more than pissed at me because of how true most of them were. I ended with a scratch on my shoulder that took over a year to heal, but she received a permanent scratch on her neck courtesy of my extra sharp French manicured nails.
In a fairytale scenario, everyone would suddenly become great friends with me and I’d be popular and the queen bitch herself would sulk away. But that didn’t happen. Mackenzie made my life a living hell, and she held so much power and fear with people around the school that they slunk away from me until I only had one friend. Becca.
I owed everything to her. Somehow, with her helping me, I put my past behind me, and managed to become my confident, I became less self-conscious, and began to love myself, exactly as I was, more and more.
None of the friends that I have now know about that chapter of my life, and I didn’t plan on any of them, especially Harry, finding out.
XXX
We landed in New York City an hour later. Harry had been quiet for the rest of the flight, choosing to listen to music instead of talking, which I was absolutely fine with. Since we were in first class, we were the first ones off the plane, and were escorted through the VIP exit because there were a couple hundred fans in the arrivals section, waiting for the boys. But even at the exit, there were around fifty fans standing by the fences. Paul let the boys go and take pictures, and I waited patiently with him, content with looking around me, but the boys called me over because a couple fans wanted a picture with me. I was absolutely touched with the things they said, how I was inspiring them to stand up to hate. There was a girl crying her eyes out thanking Harry for his stand up to bullying tweets, expressing how happy she was because she’d never seen a celebrity tweet something so personal. She got a tight hug from Harry for that.
We left a couple minutes later, and were off to whatever fancy, high security hotel we were staying at. Niall was excitedly pointing out the places he’d visited before with his family, while the rest of the boys were lazily checking their mobiles. I felt slightly out of place, being the only female, but I knew I was staying with my design assistant at the hotel. I’d yet to meet her, but from what I knew, she was my age, and her name was Lily.
We arrived at the hotel, and stepped out. The only people who had arrived were the security guys, and management. The specialized crew was arriving on a later flight, and most of them weren’t set to start working for three days. The people who did anything that wasn’t specialized were hired in America, and had already begun working.
“Your room numbers are on the cards.” Paul said, handing us each room keys, “The normal rules apply.”
I looked at my card, and compared it to Harry’s; my room was two levels under theirs, so it was going to be fairly nice, since the hotel had its better rooms on the higher floors.
“Meet me in my room once you’re settled in.” Harry said a few minutes later, while we were in the elevator heading up.
“Alright.” I replied.
“I have condoms if you need any.” Louis said casually while looking at his mobile.
“Shut the hell up Louis.” Harry muttered.
“Just saying.” He shrugged.
The elevator stopped on my floor, and I bid them all goodbye, before stepping off. Someone had already brought my luggage up, and into my room already, so now it was just a matter of finding it.
“Room 236…” I whispered to myself, looking at the door numbers.
I found the room at the end of the hall, and inserted the key card slowly before opening it. I stepped inside and my eyes went wide.
It was lovely; probably much bigger than most stylists would have. It was a room, not a suite, but it was neatly separated like one, with a mini-kitchen, and two ‘bedrooms’ and small sitting area with a very nice flat screen television. I quickly went and threw my bag on the larger bed, effectively claiming it.
I spent little while arranging my suitcases neatly by my bed, and making sure everything had made it to the city safely. I explored the room a bit, seeing if I’d missed anything (only a bathroom) and after having a quick shower and changing into a clean set of clothes, I decided to make my way to Harry’s room.
I went up the elevator and made my way to his room. When I finally found it, I rapped loudly on the door. Much to my surprise (and secret pleasure) he opened the door shirtless.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked, breezing pass him.
“What?” he looked shocked for a moment.
“What are we going to do?” I asked, speaking slowly.
“Oh.” He turned to look at me, and I forced my eyes to stay on his face, “I don’t know. Central Park? Maybe a play?”
“A play sounds good.” I said, playing with the edge of my lace top, “I’ve never been to one before.”
“Well I haven’t either. All I know you have to wear a formal clothes.” Harry said, his face suddenly sour.
A look of glee spread over my face, and I replied, “I’m a stylist! Dressing up is what I live to do!”
“Oh yeah.” Harry said, plopping down on the coach, making no move to put a shirt on.
“So you need to get tickets to something good, and I need to figure out a disguise for us both.”
“How about Phantom of The Opera? They’re having a show tonight.” Harry said, reading off of his phone.
“Sure.” I replied, walking over to the dry cleaning bags hanging in his closet.
I flipped through them, looking through the clear area of the bag to see the colour of the suits. I spotted a basic black one that would work fine, and looked at Harry’s back for a second before smirking.
“Hey, Haz? What do you think about going blonde?”
______________________________________________________
CLIFFIE! Kind of haha. I hope everyone’s enjoying! I actually think this story will hit 100K reads soon. Wow. The first story I ever wrote, (back on FF.net) didn’t hit 100K until around the last few chapters I think…or maybe it was when I posted the last chapter…that story has almost A QUARTER OF A MILLION READS NOW! *squeals* Maybe this story will surpass that one! (looks around and realizes no one actually cares and awkwardly changes subject) Anyways, thank you all for reading and enjoying, and remember that you are all amazing!
Question: How many posters do you have?
Answer: Uhmm….35? And a bunch of mirror minis. You could probably make it 38 because I have a jumbo door sized poster that takes the space of three regular ones. I have one of fetus Justin Bieber (from One Time days) and then directly under it is the one from the Boyfriend single cover and sometimes I feel like crying because of how far he’s come. (ALSO HOW HE WENT FROM ADORABLE AND CUTE TO DROP DEAD OVARIE EXPLODING SEXY) Like I’ve been a fan of his since early 2009. Oh my god MY EMOTIONS. Ok bye.
~Shaki
CG: 55 votes 30 comments.