Clandestine {Harry Styles Fanfiction}

Part 12

So I said two weeks, and here it is :)) The 12th part. Enjoy bbys :)

Harry's tattoos>>>>>>>

Am I the only one who finds tattoos incredibly hot?

Madeline

“No, Thalia. I’m not going,” I cradled my iPhone against my ear as I leafed through the articles of clothing in my closet.

“Seriously? It’s New Years Eve and you’re going to stay home and eat chips?” There was a hint of exasperation in Thalia’s usually cool, deep voice. Thalia was twenty-four, half Jamaican, half British and totally gorgeous. She was a fellow ballerina, and she had taken me under her wing when I’d first started at English National. We’d become close friends over the past month. Thalia was a risk-taker with a live-like-there’s-no-tomorrow attitude, and I knew she didn’t understand my unsocial ways.

“I’m just not in a party mood,” I told her, kicking the door of my closet shut and collapsing onto my bed.

“You’re never in a party mood,” Thalia cried dramatically and I giggled.

“And I don’t have anything to wear,” I added, “All of my clothes are too North Carolina.” Or at least that was what Isabelle would say.

“Wear that green dress I gave you,” Thalia said, and I glanced over at the emerald frock Thalia had given me for Christmas. It looked totally gorgeous on Thalia with her long legs and caramel frappuccino skin, but looked all wrong on my petite frame.

“It makes me look like a golf course,” I explained and I heard her huff on the other end.

“We can go shopping! We have plenty of time. We’re not going until ten!” Thalia told me. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that ten was the time I usually went to bed.

Thalia was trying to persuade into going the New Years Eve Party at Fabric Nightclub. She had already been at it for a half-hour.

“Who’s going to twerk with me if you’re not there?” Thalia wailed and I laughed. God knows I couldn’t twerk for my life, but Thalia was great at it and always did it at the most inappropriate times, like while we were on the Tube, or at the art gallery.

“You know there’s no way I’ll be let in. You have to be over eighteen and I look twelve.” Thalia let out an agitated sigh and I added, “On a good day I’m a strong thirteen.”

“Just wear something revealing.”

“That’s a great idea if I actually had something to reveal,” I said, “I’m pretty sure my 32B’s aren’t going to get me a stamp.”

“Oh, be quiet Maddie. See you at ten. Text me,” Thalia made a kissy noise and hung up. I threw my phone aside, burying my face into one of the zillions of throw-pillows stacked on my bed. It appeared that Thalia wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. I knew I was being a drag, but I really didn’t want to go, and not just because of my small cup size.

For one, clubbing with Thalia, Diego, Violet and the rest of my friends actually meant club hopping. We would probably start out at Fabric and stay there until midnight for the countdown, but then Thalia would get bored and we would end up at twelve different clubs before three in the morning.

And then there was Isabelle. We still weren’t speaking to each other since Saturday’s argument and our silence had been going on for two days now. I knew Isabelle would be partying at Fabric and that she definitely wouldn’t want me around. If I went to Fabric, I would have to make sure I didn’t run into her, or the tall, curly-haired, green eyed man that I knew would be on her arm for most of the night.