Not Afraid (Harry Styles)

Chapter One

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Taking one final look in the floor-length mirror, I quickly leave the house. My skin-tight Chanel dress reaches my mid-thigh and my hair is tickling the middle of my back, straightened to perfection. The height of my five inch black pumps adds an air of confidence to me as I walk out the door with ease after years of practice in heels.

The crisp summer air hits my face as I cautiously walk down my apartment steps, careful not to fall on my face in these heels. The dark night wraps around me like a blanket as I take two long strides across the sidewalk and slide into the limo that's waiting for me.

I'm heading to the birthday party of Olly Murs, out at a club in midtown. Olly and I know each other through our record label. This party is a huge publicity event-necessary for me to show my face. Within ten minutes my limo pulls up the club, and almost ear-shattering music floods out of the club.

Thanking my driver, I slowly reveal myself to the paparazzi who are expectedly lined up between the street and the entrance to the club. Thousands of flashes go off, aimed towards me like the rapid gunfire of an AK-47. My name is called from varying directions as the paparazzi beg for me to look their way. A familiar rush of adrenaline shoots through my veins as I strut down the red carpet leading towards the club. Although paparazzi can be irritating, I live for this kind of attention. Being adored by millions of people, finding myself on the covers of magazines; it's what I live for. Call me self-centered, but this is what I waited for my whole childhood.

Making my way through the crowd and entering through the doors, the security guards don't even bother to question my identity. I quickly walk up to the bar and ask the bartender for a shot. Immediately after he places it down, I bring it towards my lips and knock it down with ease. The alcohol burns my insides and I can feel it travel down into my stomach. With the alcohol pumping through my veins, I walk onto the dance floor with a new confidence about me.

Fergalicious comes bursting throughout the room, strobe lights lighting up the dance floor. Dancing my stresses and fears away, I sway my hips to the beat of the music. I can feel myself slowly being purged of them, leaving my body and emptying into the atmosphere.

Tonight, I can let go.

For the first time since our break-up, all thoughts of Dan are tossed from my brain, thrown into a figurative waste basket in my mind. Hours later, I'm exhausted to say the least. I take a seat in a bar stool and lean my elbow against the counter trying to catch my breath. All around me, acquaintances from the celebrity world bid me greetings. I turn around and order just a Diet Coke this time, drinking it slowly in sips as to not get a massive cramp if I decide to dance again.

"Well lookie here. It's America's infamous rebel." I can almost hear the smirk in the unfamiliar British voice. I spin in my chair to face them, my eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"And you are?" My voice rises an octave, my tone dubious.

"Harry Styles. But you can call me Harry." He smiles that delicious half-smile that could have the entire female population swooning.

"What else would I call you?" I shoot back, sitting up,

"I'm Kelly Miller. But you probably know that."

"Of course I do. The States' beauty. Their pride and joy." His green eyes twinkle, and he shifts his weight to his left leg.

"Flattery will get you no where, Mr. Styles."

"Are you sure? It gets me pretty far with most girls."

"Well, I am not 'most girls'."

This stumps him. He pauses. "Then can I buy you a drink?" He asks after a beat, scooting into the seat next to me.

"I'm good."

"Would you like to dance?" He asks, sounding almost hopeful. Looking at him, I weigh the possibilities in my mind before coming to a decision.

"I guess one little dance couldn't hurt." I grab his hand, pulling him out of his seat and tugging him behind me onto the dance floor. Turbulence by Steve Aoki comes on and I feel Harry place his strong hands on my hips. Rocking them side to side, we begin to move to the music. Our breaths mingle and become one, combining in the tiny space of air between our faces.

I won't lie, I'm enjoying myself. However, I cannot risk having a guy in my life again. Men come and go just to get what they want, then leave you behind in the dust and therefore cannot be trusted.

When the song ends, I raise up onto my tip toes to places a quick kiss on his cheek, and walk off to grab my things and prepare to leave. Ready to go, I turn to the door only to see Harry taking up my field of view.

"How 'bout you come over to my place?" He smiles leaning his muscular arm against the door, blocking the exit.

"I think I'm good." I smirk when his eyebrows furrow.

"Can I at least call you then? We can grab coffee sometime." Hope spreads clearly across his face. "I'd really rather not. Listen, you're fun to flirt and dance with and all, but I don't do guys. In any sense of the term." Deciding that I am done with this conversation, I push past the Brit, leaving him dumfounded in my tracks.