Don't Make Me Fall in Love. (a Harry Styles fanfiction) [hold]

Chapter 2: Going to A Paaaaaarty

"Madeline Renee Bass, if you think you're getting me in that tiny little dress, you have another thing coming. For example, a concussion?" I said, staring at the sparkly party dress that was all straps and no actual dress.

"Kris, I practically stole this dress from our last photoshoot, if you don't wear it, than it was all in vain. Look at it," she begged at me, shaking the dress at me, "it needs you to wear it."

I looked up at her from my seat in the middle of my studio. I was surrounded by oil paints and empty canvases. Canvases that have been blank for weeks, ever since the whole Jackson incident. Don't bring that up, idiot. I thought at myself. Closing my eyes and shooting up a prayer, I decided to go along for the ride tonight. Why not? Cut loose, have some fun, maybe find some inspiration for your art? Or some inspiration for that broken heart of yours? Or a really hot guy that wasn't a cheating, lying, cunt?

"OK Madsy, I wear the sparkly napkin to your A-list party." I sighed as I looked down at my paints. I'll miss you guys tonight. I was talking to my oil paints. I most DEFINITELY needed a night out.

I stoop up and brushed the lint off my denim overalls. I'm so fashion forward, I know. I took the dress from my best friend who had stars in her eyes. She followed me into the bathroom and watched me struggle into the tight, but, I'll admit, flattering silver dress. I looked in the mirror while she zipped me up. My black hair shone as my pale skin glowed in the muted bathroom lighting. My gray-blue eyes looked more of the icy-blue variety as I stared at the stranger in the mirror.

"Oh, I am brilliant. I deserve an award." Madeline whispered next to me, fluffing my hair and winking at me through the mirror.

I grinned back at her, "You deserve ALL the awards, friend-o-mine." I leaned forward to apply minimal make up, just brushing mascara on and throwing on a rep lipstick. I looked at my tanned best friend in the mirror, pouting at her reflection in a stunning sweetheart neckline-d mini dress. The forrest green of it  warmed her huge doe-like eyes and her blonde hair looked like spun gold.

"We are going to break way too many hearts tonight, Kris"

"Oh God, they'll have to start writing songs about us."

I looked at her in mock fear and she laughed at me, throwing her head back with giggles.

She paused and looked at me, as if to make sure that I really wanted to do this. To end my mourning with such a public night out.

I smiled at her and grabbed my small black bag, "How's about we start that heartbreakin?"

--Harry's POV---

"I don't get why you cant just throw on some clothes and be done with it," Niall whined at me, "its not that up class, mate, it's just a debut of a magazine!"

I shrugged into my dark gray blazer, as I ignored the cries of a sober Irishman. Tugging my white v-neck down over my skinny jeans, I finally smiled at myself in the mirror.

"Hush Niall, I may be meeting the girl of my dreams tonight, I have to look the part!" I called to him, playfully. We both knew tonight would be a night of drinking, mingling, a fair bit of dancing and then our bodyguards dragging us home, afraid of what Management might think. Groaning, I recalled the last phone call I had with Modest Management. Cool down the "player" image, Harry, its starting to affect the entire band I recited to myself. I wasn't trying top have the image in the first place! I just wanted to find someone. The way the other lads had. It was so frustrating that because I wanted to find love, I was deemed a "manwhore". Sleeping around? I wish. But my heart just couldn't handle using my fame for something as shallow as getting laid.

I walked out of my bedroom in the large flat me and Niall shared in downtown LA. I grabbed my phone off the charger as I pulled Niall out of the kitchen, his hand still holding the three cookies he was set on eating all at once. I grinned at his full cheeks as he smiled back, crumbs falling. And with that un-popstar image, we left for the party in my rented black Audi.

---KRIS' POV---

The loud music was pulsing around us as the taxi dropped us right on the red carpet leading up to the club. The paprazzi were busy frantically taking pictures of a producer and his model wife ahead of us, so we walked to the bouncer unnoticed.

"Jonnnnnnnny," Mads squealed at the enormous man. She laid a  hand on his arm and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"Hi Mads," The giant blushed like a thirteen year old girl. My best friend was really good at what she does. " Oh, are you Mads' friend?" he looked up at me.

I waved as an introduction, avoiding any amount of contact. I'm not much of a cheek kisser.

He waved us past and we walked down the red carpet, Mads stopping to smile at a few cameras as I stomped past, head down. The last thing I needed was a picture of myself in this ridiculously small dress. Tugging the sparkly subject of my frustration down, I turned to the bar. A drink. I needed a drink.

I settled up next to a busty blonde at the bar as she giggled at the harem of men all vying for her attention. I merely rolled my eyes and fixed my eyes on the bartender making his way towards me.

"What will it be?" He asked wiping his hands on the towel tucked into his waistband.

"FOUR SHOTS OF TEQUILA AND TWO GLASSES OF CHAMPAGNE," Mads reappeared at my side and screamed at the man, now eyeing us with an amused gleam.

I shrugged at the bartender with a smirk as I turned around to face my friend.

"So what exactly are we supposed to be doing here?" I asked her, raising my voice over the music.

"Meeting people, Kris, dahling, meeting fabulous, fabulous people," She answered waving her arms around excitedly.

There were all types at this event. The popstars and dancers out on the floor, getting sweaty, but all dancing with sly smiles on their faces. Was that David Guetta in the DJ booth? The Producer types were in the private, reserved booths speckled around with posh drinks in their hands talking to Management types, who their eyes trained on the crowd. There were some Artist types, graphic designers and gallery owners who were mingling around, looking a little too indie for this event.

"Here you go ladies!" I turned around to the six glasses on the bar and the bartender giving me a wink as he walked down to help some other people. I looked down at a napkin he left under the shot in front of me.

"Kris, is that a number? IS THAT A PHONE NUMBER?" Mads cheered at me as I blushed pink at the sight of the phone number and a scribbled smiley face. "GIRL, you are so hawt toniggggght" She sang at me. I had to admit, it was a nice feeling to be acknowledged by a stranger.

I held the first round of shots to Madeline, giving a cheeky wink and downing the glass. Biting down on the lime, I felt my throat burn and my eyes water. She immediately rushed the second shot into my hand and I eagerly complied, in desperate need for some confidence. I put the second lime in my mouth as I looked around, the gyrating crowd seeming a little more and more tempting.

"Wanna dance?" A tall, muscular man leaned up to Madeline, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor before she could agree. She looked over her shoulder, grinned, and mouthed 'Have Fun' at me.

I giggled to myself and leaned back on the bar, sipping on the bubbly champagne, watching the different groups of people come together for a good party.

Suddenly, a pair of sparkling green eyes caught mine. I gasped, my breath pausing as I tried to drag my gaze away from the captivating one that held me still.

It's him, the guy from the gym. What in the actual Hell is he doing here?