Dancing with the Boys (Harry Styles Love Story)

Chapter 6: Joey Lockshant

Picture of Joey on the side, played by Drew Seely.

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The next morning I went downstairs and grabbed some of the toast Zayn set out. “Still mad about yesterday?” he asked, grinning.

“You know, I went eight hours without getting mad again, and then you spoke.” I grinned back at him and joined everyone in the living room.

I greeted everyone, and then halfway through the meal, I announced to them, “Girls, I won’t be here, for about, five days?”

“How come?” asked Avalon.

“Workshop.”

“What’s a workshop?” asked Liam, looking up from the paper.

“It’s where you can go to train in dance classes of your choice. Some are nice, others are…”

Katie picked up where Kate left off. “Others try to kill you,” she stated bluntly.

“Hmm?” Louis looked at us inquiringly.

“It’s like, you get five hours sleep, each class is four hours, and ten minutes to eat,” explained Rachel.

Niall looked horrified.

“Limited bathroom breaks, lots of water breaks, but it’s awful,” said Isabel.

“Why would anyone go to it then?” asked Harry.

“Because you learn a lot, and not all of them are like that,” replied Alexia.

“Thing is, the contracts never say what it’s like. So you only find out when you go,” I said.

“Do you sleep there?” asked Zayn.

“Sometimes. I’ll be sleeping at the one I’m going to.”

I left at ten o’ clock, after Isabel helped me pack some clothes, and drove off. The campus looked nice enough. There were some dancers standing outside, waiting for whoever was supposed to come.

I stepped out the car, swung my duffel bag over my shoulder, and walked over to them.

“Oh my gosh, you’re Lilah Force!” exclaimed a tall girl with long blonde hair. Everyone’s heads shot over to where I stood. I gave a small wave. “Hi.”

All of them rushed towards me, except one tall girl, with her hair combed in a bun.

“Lilah, can I have your autograph?”

“Can we get a photo?”

“Can I get a strand of your hair?”

I raised my eyebrows at the last request. “Autographs and pictures, yes. DNA, no.” I gave a small laugh, then proceeded to sign the pieces of paper people shoved in my face.

Eventually, the group around me wandered over to where they originally stood, to where the arrogant looking girl was. I tried to answer as many of the questions they asked.

“Lilah, what’s your blood type?”

“Where were you born?”

“Where do you live?”

“What’s your favourite style of dance?”

“Will you marry me?”

I looked to see who asked the last question. It was a boy with black hair, a joking smile on his face. “Maybe,” I shot back. He wasn’t bad. Not at all.