Harry Styles has it all. He's a famous popstar and he's using his voice to make the world better, which is what he's always wanted. The only thing he doesn't have is someone to call his. Yes, he's a hopeless romantic, but is it too much to ask for s...
Niall's brilliant idea, which would absolutely never happen. I can't. First of all, I'm about five different shades of crimson, and while we're at a safe distance right now, I know he'll notice if we're closer.
Second of all, what would I even say? Hi, I'm Harry Styles, you probably don't know me, but I think you're hot. And I know you have a girlfriend and whatever and—
Okay, that didn't go well in my head. So what kind of train wreck would it be in real life?
One I definitely don't want to see, much less be a part of.
"Okay, look, Harry," Niall says, grabbing my shoulders and forcibly turning me to face him. I break eye contact with Louis for the first time in however many minutes, and sue me, because I already miss looking at him.
"What, Niall?" I ask, and it comes out as more of a whine than I mean it to be. Niall raises an eyebrow.
"Harry, you two are going to meet tonight, if I need to drag you over there by your curls. Got it?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "That's not going to happen, Ni. I'm a mess, haven't you noticed? And he has a girlfriend, so I can't talk to him because I always flirt and I can't flirt casually because I want to flirt for real but I can't flirt for real because he's straight—"
"Haz, respectfully, shut up," Niall tells me, and I close my mouth, stopping the flow of words. "I think it would be a good idea for you to meet. Honestly. Trust me—"
"Niall?"
My best friend freezes and slowly turns, coming face-to-face with a tall guy with wavy brown hair and a wide smile. He's pretty hot, I have to admit. Just not as hot as Louis, of course.
Wait, what?
"Shawn!" Niall exclaims, and the two just sort of stand there awkwardly looking at each other.
"Um, I'm just gonna go..." I say, backing away slowly. I expect my best friend to stop me, but he doesn't, so I turn and look for Louis. He's not where he was before, and a quick glance around the room tells me he isn't anywhere I can easily find him. Great.
I start looking for a familiar face. Any familiar face. When I don't find anyone, I decide maybe a drink isn't such a bad idea.
The bar is crawling with celebrities, all people I've seen at some point, but most of them are nameless to me. Just another pretty face, just like I am to them, I'm sure. Maybe without the pretty part.
A woman slides onto the bar stool next to mine. She has shoulder-length blonde hair and artfully styled bangs, and she's wearing a sparkly white pantsuit with spaghetti straps and cutouts at her waist. The room isn't cold, per se, but I wouldn't want to be wearing that. She does look gorgeous, though.
"Hey. You look alone," she says, and I note her American accent.
"What are you doing at the Brit awards?" I can't help but ask. I'm sure I probably sound rude, but I can't quite find it in myself to care.
She just laughs it off, though. "My boyfriend." Her blue eyes dart over her shoulder, as if maybe looking for him, but then she shrugs. "He's here somewhere. Probably looking for his friends."
"Must be nice," I comment. I don't exactly know which part I mean: Looking for your friends or having a boyfriend. Probably both, honestly.
"Well, it gives me some time to help lost souls," she laughs, nudging my arm with her elbow. I sigh. "C'mon, Harry, are you okay?"
"How do you know my name?" I ask, and she raises her eyebrows at me, like, Seriously?!
"Everyone knows you," she says, by way of explanation. "You're Harry Styles." She tilts her head at me, as if something finally clicks. "Wait, do you know who I am?"
I make a face that I hope is apologetic enough to make up for my obvious confusion. She smiles and looks down at her fingers, which are tapping out a rhythm on top of the bar.
"Okay, let's try this again. I'm Taylor," she tells me, reaching out her hand for a shake, and I take it, still slightly confused. "Taylor Swift," she clarifies, and it's like a lightbulb goes off over my head.
The bangs. The blue eyes. The American accent. Come to think of it, of course I've seen her before. She's a huge celebrity. So why's she talking to me?
"Taylor Swift? The one with the boyfriends?" I say, and she gives me another Seriously?! look. "Sorry, that was rude. Let me start again, too." I give her a smile and a little wave. "Hi, I'm Harry."
Taylor laughs. "Hi, Harry."
I sigh heavily. "You were right. I am alone. My best friend brought a plus-one and they're off doing whatever without me, so I don't have anyone."
She nods like she knows. But how could she?
"Is that your best friend over there?" she subtly nods her head towards three people. Two of them are tall, one with darker skin and a more defined jawline, the other with a softer face and gelled brown hair. They're both laughing and facing somewhat away from us. But the third...
Well. He's looking right at me. And of course it's not Niall. It's Louis.
"Um," I choke out. "No."
Taylor turns and studies my face for a few seconds before a slow smile spreads across her face. "You like him?"
I meet her eyes. "Uh...not exactly?"
She shrugs. "Okay. Not my business, I guess. But...he's staring at you really intensely. So unless he's some sort of ex you're trying to get away from, I'd say that's a pretty good sign."
I don't dare look back at Louis, especially when I grumble, "He's straight. He has a girlfriend, for God's sake."
Taylor tilts her head at me. "Well...all I'll say is that this industry is complicated. I wouldn't want to be doing anything else, but it can be fucked up."
"What are you saying?" I ask.
"I'm just saying, sometimes not everything is as it seems."
I don't really know what to say. Is she saying it's fake? But no, it can't be. His smile looked genuine in those pictures...but maybe that's just because I've never seen his actual smile. Or maybe I'm totally overthinking this, as always.
"I should probably go," Taylor says. "It was really nice to meet you, Harry. And if you ever want to talk..."
She presses a slip of paper into my hand, and I know without even looking it's her number. Damn, she's smooth. Does she just carry it around with her everywhere?
"Thanks," I reply, sliding the paper into the pocket of my blazer. "It was nice to meet you too, Taylor."
She gives me one last grin and then she's gone.
And now I'm alone again.
A/N: Wow, okay. I'm curious: how many of you were surprised to see Taylor in this story?? She'll become more important later, I promise. Also, I love her, so I kind of couldn't not include her.
In case you had trouble picturing her, this is the reference photo I used:
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