𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓! 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
𝗖𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱.
For five years, I was caged-locked in a life I couldn't escape, a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.
At an age when I should have been dancing under the star...
He dragged me straight to Victoria's Secret. I couldn't believe it—FUCKING VICTORIA'S SECRET. I swear, my face must have blazed bright red like the ripest tomato. As soon as I saw Harry, though, there was a strange glimmer of excitement in his eyes, a spark that both puzzled and unnerved me.
"Uh-huh! Hell no! I ain't going in there, Styles," I snapped as soon as the words tumbled out, shaking my head with all the force I could muster. In that instant, Harry's face fell into a frown as if my refusal had shattered his high hopes.
"Whyyy?" he whined, genuine confusion in his tone.
"B-because..." I began, but he cut me off.
"That's not a reason, love. Don't you need some new underwear and a bra for your interview?" he teased, his voice light and laced with mischief.
I rolled my eyes. "No, actually I don't. I'm not about to pull my dress up and expose my panties to an interviewee, Harry. And trust me—I have plenty of undergarments already." I glanced at him, noting how he was lost in thought, his eyes distant as if imagining something outrageous. I nudged him with a raised eyebrow.
"Umm, actually I was imagining you coming to your interview while I sat among the candidates—and then, out of nowhere, you pull your dress up and fling it at me. My god, that would be one hell of an interview. I'd definitely give you the job," he said bluntly, a mischievous glint lighting his eyes. I couldn't help but gasp at his absurd fantasy—what was he thinking?
Before I could form a retort, Harry grabbed my hand and started dragging me into the store. "Come on, we're getting you a new pair for your fresh start. And trust me, from what Kiara and the other girls say, when it comes to lingerie, there's no such thing as too much," he declared with contagious enthusiasm.
"Come on, love, try this one. Go on," he urged as he shoved a delicate pair of lace lingerie into my hands. I stood there frozen for a beat, mesmerized by his confidence. God, he was sure of himself—I needed to buckle up, Alana.
Taking a deep breath, I blurted, "You know what? Fine. Get me everything you like and I'll try it out for you. But please, nothing too expensive—I'm almost broke, so chop-chop!" I clapped my hands once with a wicked smile, then turned toward the changing room.
After what felt like an eternity (roughly five minutes), I saw Harry rushing toward me, his face a bright, embarrassed red as he carried three different pairs of lingerie—one of which looked like a baby doll dress. "Here," he mumbled, then collapsed onto a nearby couch.
"Wait here—I'll change and model it for you," I declared with a daring grin. I've always been bold, unafraid to flaunt my body. Now that my bruises had faded, I felt ready to show off. The thought of modeling for Harry stirred a cocktail of excitement and apprehension within me.
The moment I stepped out of the changing room in the piece I'd mistaken for a baby doll dress—a sleek, elegant slip with daring side slits—I could feel the room pause. Harry's eyes darted up from his phone, and all he managed was a stunned, breathless "Holy shit." That silent reaction was exactly what I had hoped for.
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