The "Biggest" Fan (EN)

41.

I stared at my phone, heart pounding as yet another notification popped up.

Julie Styles liked your photo.

The third one today. 

The first had been from last night —a harmless group picture from the tour, nothing even remotely personal. Then, this morning, a less recent one. And now, a random selfie I'd posted two years ago. Two. Fucking. Years.

I locked my phone immediately. Because, obviously, that would stop her from digging up even older photos to like.

I hadn't even told Harry she'd sent me a friend request on Facebook. Let alone that I'd accepted it in a moment of sheer, brainless panic. So stupid. So incredibly stupid.

Maybe she'd just been curious, clicked too many times by accident. Yeah, because you just accidentally stumble across someone's ancient selfies.

For fuck's sake. She was definitely stalking the shit out of me.

I shuddered and shoved my phone into my pocket. Nope. Not thinking about it.

"Louis, you coming?" Ashley's voice yanked me back to reality. She was already outside the hotel, dressed up like she was about to walk a red carpet.

"Yeah," I said, dragging myself down the stairs.

Going to some VIP club night wasn't exactly my idea of fun, but did I have a choice? No. Was I planning on making it everyone else's problem? Also no. Look at me, being an adult.

"It's going to be so much fun! I bet we'll meet, like, a million celebrities!" Ashley clapped her hands.

"I just want a drink," Lottie sighed, completely devoid of enthusiasm. She looked like she'd rather be doing literally anything else tonight, but hey, free expensive alcohol is free expensive alcohol.

Ashley, on the other hand, had been bouncing since the moment she heard we were invited. And of course, Harry was the reason we got the invite.

It made my skin itch a little. This was his world — the private parties, the casual oh yeah, I know everyone energy. I hated it. Hated that there were people in that club who had shared memories with him that I wasn't part of.

The van was already waiting at the curb. As we approached, Harry moved ahead and opened the door.

For Lottie.

Amazing. Such a gentleman.

I climbed in next to him, teeth clenched. He didn't notice, just stared absently out the window.

"You don't have to be so convincing all the time, you know," I muttered in his ear, low enough that the girls wouldn't hear.

Harry sighed, tilting his head towards me, his lips twitching like he was holding back a smile, "It's called being polite, Lou."

"You know it's not," I rolled my eyes and leaned away from him.

He just smirked and leaned in closer, "Relax. It's going to be fun tonight."

I shot him a look, "You say? Will you dance with me?"

"Lou..."

Yeah. Thought so.

I sighed dramatically. All I wanted was a night in with him alone — shitty movies, shitty snacks, just anything that let us be ourselves. Some VIP party didn't sound like that.

By the time we pulled up to the club, a small swarm of paparazzi had gathered outside. Nothing overwhelming, but enough to make me tense. Camera flashes went off the second the van door slid open, and suddenly, all I could hear was my name, Harry's name, and a few shouts for Lottie as well.