No More Lies (Harry Styles)

Chapter 1

A/N: Ok, to start of...THANK YOU MY SWEET SWEET BUBBA MUFFINS FOR READING THIS. Ok no joke. It means the world..no..the UNIVERSE to me that you do. I've always been an aspiring writer and Wattpad gives me that opportunity. Ok well ima let you read now. PS this is my first fanfic so please, bear with me! PS, I'm not British s correct me if I don't use the correct "slang".

Chapter 1

Hailey's POV

"Hailey!" I hear Sarah, my assita- manager (an assita-manager is my made up word for someone who runs errands, but also mangages my time) yell. "Get your arse over here now!" I groan and roll my eyes then make my way over to her.

"What do you want from me?" I sing, referring to the very catchy Adam Levine song. Props to you bro! Now I will forever have those 6 words engraved in my brain with the tune. She gives me a glare then proceeds to go about a photo shoot I have later that month. Sipping my coke, I listen intently with as much interest as I had in me at the time being.

Basically, all I heard was. "blah blah, 7 am, blah blah blah, Wednesday, blah, Vogue." At this point, I spit out all the contents of the coke in my mouth, thankfully missing her. Boy would she have been P.O.'d!

"VOGUE! As in...VOGUE?!" I practically yell to Russia. She smiles and nods, the pride she had for my accomplishment twinkled in her eyes, like stars.c

"Yes, Vogue as in Vogue," she says much too calmly. We look at each other for a second. Then we randomly burst out doing the happy dance, giggling and squealing, earning a few odd looks from the others who were cleaning up the set I was just on.

Sarah was very nice. She was about 3 years older than me ( I am 18) and has long orangey-red hair. Almost Ed Sheeran-esque, but not quite as intense. She had gray eyes, which seemed to almost oppose the color of her hair. She was averagely thin and was average height. Sarah was the best assita-manager one could ask for. She understood me and only got mad when I really screw up. She would always freak out with me or on me.

Freak out on me. That sounds dirty.

I giggle to myself. Speaking of me, one of my favorite subject (just kidding. I'm not narcissistic. Ok fine. Just a tad. ONLY A TAD.) I was a recently "up an coming" as they called it, model. Who's "they" you ask? Ok, maybe you don't give a crap, but I shall inform of this wonderful information either way. "They" is the fashion business. No that doesn't sound right. "They" are the fashion business? Sounds about right. I was discovered by Marcio Alvarge (A/N made up, of course.) another up and coming fashion designer. He loved the way I looked in his art. No not cloths. Art. He was truly amazing. Back to me, *insert winks here*.

I was pale and had warm chocolate hair with dark blue eyes. A splash of freckles dotted my face adding intensity to my already intense features. I was the typical model, with an edge. I don't know. That's what "they" tell me. I wasn't that tall though. Maybe 5'10? I made up for it in talent. Narcissistic me strikes again....

Ok. That sounded conceded but its true. On the "most wanted" model list I, at the age of 18 and start of my career, am proud #4. But I loved what I do. And that's most important.

The news still settling down in side of me, I decide to send a text to my best friend, lover (NO HOMO. I'm staright ;)), and practically sister.

To: AngelaMyAngel<3

One word bby! V to the O to the GUE!

Angela Montgomery. My best friend for life. A lot of my friends, after my career took off, used me or dumped me. Angela, however was always there. She's a TRUUUUUUUEEEEEE friend. As quoted by Hannah Montana.