Sex 101 With Harry Styles

Chapter 3

—Alicia—

That never happened, I kept chanting to myself. I did not have a five minute make out session with Harry Styles, and most importantly, I did not like it. After Harry left, I had to fix my lipstick and my dress, it looked crumpled. I wonder why? I thought to myself. I quickly got out of the room and bumped right into my boyfriend, Nick.

"Hey babe," he greets. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I lie through my teeth and hide my guiltiness. "Just tired, that's all. Being a bride's maid isn't so easy."

I turn away from his gaze and walk forward and gulped down my fears. Nick caught up with me and my dad called me over. I went up to him and then his narrowed behind me.

"Nick," my father curtly greets and then his eyes slice into mine and I give a sheepish smile.

My father hated Nick, he always told me that he'd either hurt me or run away with your money. And if he did, he'd remove all contacts from me and from the will has well. In my sense, my father was a huge drama queen. But being me, I never listened and sometimes I hated myself for that.

"Shall we dance?" My father asked, ignoring Nick.

Rolling my eyes I slip my hand in my father's hand and follow him to the dance floor, where my brother Neal and Liberty were having their dance, along with the other guests.

"You look pretty," my dad complimented me. "You look just like your mama."

Hearing compliments from the stubborn Gage Travie is very rare; also it meant he was planning on something. My mother and I looked nothing alike. I had balck hair while my mother had blonde and i had odd blue eyes, while my mother had brown ones. But I appreciated it though.

"Liberty dresses me well," I smile at him and rock back and forth.

I was wearing a green satin sheath, the shoulder straps fastened with two crustal buckles. My feet were strapped in delicate sliver scandals with three inch heels. Liberty had insisted on doing my hair. It had taken her fifteen minutes to twist and pin the long wavy locks into a simple updo that I could've never produced. She was four years older than me, but her manner had been maternal, gentle and seldom, in a way my mother had been.

"There," Liberty had murmured when she was finished, and picked up a powder brush to dust my nose playfully. "Perfect."

It was really hard not to like her.

As dad and I danced, one of the photographers approached. We leaned close and smiled into the blinding white flash and then resumed our distance. I too in my father's appearance, he had a barrel chest, short legged, and black eyed; with hair so thick you could hardly detect his scalp. All that and his German chin made him a striking man, if not a handsome one.

"Nick and I are going to New York," I said.

We were going to fly commercial—even though I had two first class tickets, paid by my father's credit card.

"Looking forward to it," my father answered un-interested. "Tell Tim I said 'hi."

Tim was my dancing coach and we were for a tour to New York and I was bringing Nick along, his dreams were to sight see New York. So being a nice girlfriend and a friend, I invited him over and he happily agreed.

"Before we leave, Nick wants to have a talk with you," I continued.

"Looking forward to it."

"I'd like you to be nice to him," I spoke sternly.

"Sometimes I'm not a nice person for a reason. It's a way to find out what someone's made off."

"Dad," I laughed. "You're making it sound that I'm going to marry him. I have time."