Notorious

Spiteful

"Harry is staring at you again."

I don't even acknowledge Avery's statement because of course Harry is watching me. He has been staring at me all night, all week, and practically since I met him.

Usually I would turn around and flip him off or make some cheeky comment or even push out my bum a bit more to tease him. But, this time I don't even acknowledge his presence or the intense stare I feel all the way through my matching black crop-top and mini-skirt –which I assume is the reason he is staring in the first place.

My disappointment and hurt from our last conversation still replays in my head anytime he is mentioned and I don't even want to think about him, let alone confront him about his obvious ogling.

It also doesn't help that he is surrounded by groupies.

"What's new?" I sigh and order a new cocktail, completely taking advantage of the open bar.

Who new charity auctions would accommodate us drunks so kindly?

"The guy is love-sick."

I actually choke on my drink at her words, the liquid burning my throat and causing me to splutter. Avery laughs lightly, tossing her hair back over her skin-tight leather dress and if I wasn't so alarmed by what she said I would be insanely jealous at how beautiful she is.

She could wear a burlap sack and still send some old guy into cardiac arrest.

"Just look at him, Aspen. It's so obvious that it's almost pathetic. He's a little bitch about his feelings, yeah, but even you can't possibly believe he doesn't care for you."

Avery waves her hand towards our large booth and I try not to feel offended at her words as I turn my head slightly to take a peek at him. And, seriously, damn him for his beauty and his stupid billowing shirt and fit blazer and tight jeans.

Seriously, fuck him.

And he is indeed looking at me, but as soon as our eyes meet he drops his gaze to the ground and I can see his cheeks turning pink from here. His embarrassment would make me happy usually, if he wasn't being coddled by practically every female in the room.

As soon as we walked through the doors of the ballroom, Harry was whisked away by some rich producer and then flaunted around the room for the last hour. Only now has he had a break to sit down, only to be surrounded by a bunch of fans that are hanging on him and his every word.

"Yeah, he sure does look really love-sick flirting with all of his groupies." I roll my eyes and Avery can't contain her scoff as she orders another drink.

"God, who made you this cynical?"

And I just shoot her an unamused look because that answer is quite obvious and is also walking towards us now.

As soon as Avery spots Louis' mussed up brown locks strolling towards us she rolls her eyes and tells me she'll wait for me at our booth. Louis quickly slides into her spot with a timid smile and a glass of scotch.

"You look lovely tonight." His eyes travel all the way from my red lips down to my nude heels and he still manages to make my heart race, especially in his crisp suit.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Tomlinson."

His lips twist into a dirty grin before turning to talk to the bartender and my eyes lazily trace over all of the nicely dressed music biz professionals, the candle-lit booths, and the displays set around the room showcasing the items for auction –some of them my own.

My eyes land on Harry once again, still staring at me, but this time it is more of an angry scowl and this time, he doesn't look away. I'm only confused for a split second before I realize this reaction is due to me speaking to Louis.