UnPretty - A Harry Styles Romance

1

"Shut up, Marcie. I'm not going," I stated, ignoring my best friend as I hit ALT+Reblog, my two favorite buttons, on my MacBook that my parents had gotten me for college. Guess they didn't think I'd flunk out. Ha.

"Why not?! All your old college friends will be there! They always ask about you!" she said, snapping my laptop shut. "You can't sit on tumblr all night."

"Really?" I mused and reopened my computer.

"Benjamin Alexander Adams," she sighed, using my full name that I loathed.

My parents really wanted a boy.

Marcie strode down the hall of the apartment we shared and disappeared into the laundry room. I rolled my eyes and refreshed my dashboard, but it wouldn't load.

"C'mon, Macaroni, you're supposed to be good at this," I grumbled to myself as I hit the refresh button again.

Yes, I named my computer. Next question.

Marcie walked out of the laundry room with a sleek black rectangle I recognized immediately cradled in her arms.

The wifi.

"Marce..." I warned nervously, getting up from my perch on the arm of a lazyboy and slowly approaching her.

"Ah ah ah!" she smirked, holding the router over her head, which was very well out of my reach, given that I'm several inches shorter than her anyways.

I put my hands on my hips and looked up at her. "Low blow..." I muttered.

She ignored me. "If you come to the party, I WON'T lock Mr. Wifi in the attic for a week."

"Traitor," I spat. She new the attic scared the living hell out of me.

"I prefer evil genius," she smirked.

That was a more accurate description of a girl who made a perfect score on the ACT, SAT, and every other test they threw at her. Marcie actually has a framed certificate signed by the President validating that she was in fact, a genius. It's hanging in the bathroom.

And she wonders why I have self esteem issues.

"I hate you."

"I'll get over it."

"Shut up."

"You'd better get dressed. Party starts in half an hour."

I groaned loudly and stomped into my bedroom. Various articles of clothing were strewn haphazardly across the floor. The bed was unmade, as usual, and the curtains still drawn from when I rolled out of bed sometime past noon, making the light very low for five- thirty in the afternoon.

"WEAR SOMETHING SEXY!!" Marcie's voice ordered from another room. I sadly outruled the crumpled sweatshirt from high school that covered a lamp.

I grumbled a yanked a pair of jeans on and picked a random shirt, muttering curse words under my breath.

"Nope. No that won't do at all," Marcie said while she steered me back into my room and flung open my closet door.

"Oh, you're wearing this," she said, thrusting the tight black quarter sleeve minidress that she'd gotten me for my birthday last year.

"Nononononono," I objected, giving it back to her.

"Remember the wiiiifiiiii..." she sing-songed, rocking on her heels.

I scowled and snatched the garment out of her evil, conniving fingers and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

I angrily tugged the dress over my head and squeezed it over my butt. Marcie opened the door and walked in, putting her hand to her mouth.