Playing With Fire

one

"Em! Get up!" a voice screeched in my ear. I groaned and rolled over, slamming my hand on her mouth like a snooze button.

"Why the fucking hell are you waking me up so early on a Saturday. During summer vacation?!" I poked one eye open to see Brooke smiling at me. Huffing, I sat up and ran a hand through my bedhead, attempting to mat out all the craziness.

"It's 2 in the afternoon! And, we have to get ready!" she sprang up and rushed to her room, coming back with a pile of clothes.

We had a medium sized apartment: 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom upstairs and a kitchen and living room downstairs. So like a penthouse I guess. But in LA, this was nothing.

"Ready for what?" I asked, picking up a shirt and throwing it on. Brooke came over to me and gave me the best puppy eyes she could muster. Oh shit, she wants something.

"There's a concert tonight. Please go with me. Please please please please please." she begged. I raised my eyebrows at her and frowned.

"Who's concert?" she bit her lip. Aha! I knew there was a catch.

"A certain British-Irish boyband you know I love and would literally kill to see live," she pleaded with her eyes. I glared at her and groaned.

"Why can't you go by yourself?" You see, I didn't like One Direction. I've heard 'What Makes You Beautiful' and 'One Thing'. They're the most cliché boyband songs I've ever heard. Bleh.

"Because I have two tickets. And I want my best friend in the entire world to go with me," she smiled. I was still unconvinced. I Hated them. H.A.T.E HATED them.

"I'll do the dishes for a week and I'll take you shopping and buy you whatever you want on my card. And I'll bring you Starbucks for a month!" My ears perked up at the mentioning of Starbucks. I mean, what 17 year old girl doesn't like a peppermint mocha frap?!

"Fiinneee. But don't expect me to enjoy it," I grumbled, rolling off the bed and into the bathroom.

"Yay! I love you so so so so much. Thank you Em!" Brooke squealed. She's a die-heart Directoner. Was one since 2010, and still is one 3 years later. When Zayn left, she went to the store and bought all the cardboard cut outs left of him and positioned them all around her room. (a/n: yes ik that technically Zayn hasn't left yet, but just pretend for the sake of the story, ok?) It's a good thing we have 2 bedrooms...

I quickly washed my face and put some mousse in my hair along with some detangler to ease my curls. That's all I usually do with my hair. Is naturally curly, but it's loose so it's manageable. I applied simple makeup and left so that Brooke could spend her sweet ass time getting ready.

Bored, I decided to take a smoke. Yeah, I know it's crap for your system and all that shit, but yolo. If I'm gonna suffer tonight, might as well be happy during the day.

Stepping out on my balcony, I lit the cigarette and took a drag. Across the street from me was a boy sitting on a park bench that looked oddly familiar. I couldn't quite recognize him since he had sunglasses over his eyes, but I had definitely seen him before. Olive skin, tall, beanie, curly hair... and then it hit me.

I gasped and stumbled backwards, tripping over a chair. Harry looked up at me, and propped his sunglasses on top of his head.

"Hey! Are you alright?" he asked, crossing the street until he was directly below me. Curse this stupid complex for only having 2 floors.

"I'm fine." I replied rather roughly, taking another drag. He frowned.

"You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for you, you know," he chastised, looking around for fans who might have spotted him, but there was no one in sight. I rolled my eyes and took another puff.