...But You Don't Notice at All. (One Direction)

At Least I Didn't Get Drunk

"One way or another," Harry sang the last line of the final song of the concert. The concert tonight was phonominal! I had done pretty well at the begining, and the boys, in the worlds of fat Amy, "crushed it".

"Thank you!" yelled Harry.

The audience roared.

"You've been a great audience!" yelled Niall, "We love you Amsterdam"

More insane screams. I might burst an eardrum, how do these boys do it?!?

"Thank you!" yelled Zayn as the boys all ran off stage.

"Good job boys," I laughed giving them a cheesy grin and two thumbs up.

"KAT!" yelled Harry smiling. He gave me a big hug and a sloppy kiss in the cheek.

"You're so sweaty," I laughed. He lifted me up and spun me around. I caught Louis giving me a dirty look. Dammit, Lou!

"We're heading to a bar nearby, you want to come?" he asked putting me down.

"I'd love to," I smiled. Yeah, I'm eighteen, but I'm allowed to drink here in Europe, and I come to London a lot. I won't get drunk...probably. "I'm just gonna go change,"

"Yeah, I've got to shower anyway," said Harry, "See you in a bit,"

I walked alone back to my dressing room and found Blair standing there. She held up a rather slutty-looking short black dress.

"No!" I yelped.

"Yes!" she squealed, "As much as you deny it, you're crazy about Harry,". Tell me something I don't know. "And he'll love you in this dress," she finished.

"So will thirsty men walking down the street, and perverts who are looking for someone to 'service them," I said putting air-quotes around "service them".

"This dress is not going to make you look like a prostitute!" she protested.

"Wow that sounded weird," I said.

"Yes it did, but it made sense in context," she replied, "but you're wearing it, because I won't let you take anything else,"

I sighed, "Fine."  She handed me the dress, and I put it on in the bathroom. I guess it's not that short, but it's tight. It sticks tightly to my leg about halfway down my thigh. It had a slightly dipped neckline, but didn't show extreme cleavage. On a scale of one to Christina Agulara, it was about a five. The straps were about one finger length, and reached down my bare back. Blair was right, it did look nice. It made my usually sloppy curves look well accented, but if it were pink and I added some mesh tights I could easily pass as a prostitute. I walked out to show Blair.

"Perfect!" she applauded her own work.

"I look like a prostitute," I said.

"You'll be wearing more clothes than most girls at the bar," she snickered. She had already put on a fun purple strapless dress that reached almost to her knees.

"I don't want to go," I protested.

"Too bad, you told Harry you would, you look sexy, and I don't want to be lonely," she said searching through a pile of shoes. "Aha," she pulled out some black stilettos.

"I'm not wearing those," I said.

"But they make the whole outfit," she wined.

"This is the last time I am letting you dress me," I sighed, I pulled he stilettos nto my feet. They made me about five-eight now. "I feel so tall," I admitted. Blair had me take a silver charm bracelet, and a small black bag.