I wake up and stretch my arms while yawning. The sun is shining bright and when I look at the alarm clock on my nightstand, it's 9 in the morning. Last night was great. I got to go on an amazing date and do something pretty amazing in the women's restroom.
Sav freaked when I got home last night and told her what we did. She didn't freak in a bad way, but an "Oh my gosh, tell me the details!" best friend kind of way.
Since I didn't have school today, I decided to lay in bed for a bit before getting up. I didn't hear Savanna at all, so I assume she is asleep still.
I search for the remote on my television and once I find it, I press the power button. I skim through every channel before deciding on some soap-opera type of thing. It doesn't make any sense to me, considering the fact that I have never seen it before in my life, so I take out my phone and check Twitter.
My notifications box has the blue dot under it so I click on it, assuming it was my cousin from back home doing her usual tweeting to me. I am proven completely wrong when my mentions are blown up. I'm confused for a second until I realize who these people are.
They are the fan accounts. The One Direction fan accounts. I start to read through them and feel scared as to some of things I may read. Hell, I use to have one and I know exactly how mean these fans can be.
Most of them aren't hateful, just asking me if I'm really dating Harry, or if the rumors or true, or if I'm Harry's girlfriend. I come across a few rude ones; calling me a slut or a whore, or telling me to stay away from him, or saying that I'm ugly and fat.
The things sent to me don't really affect me, though. An advantage to being a part of those Twitter accounts at a certain point in my life is that I know those girls don't mean it. They are saying it out of pure jealousy and anger.
The thing that actually bothered me is that they found my name, my accounts, and who I am. I decide the best way to figure it out is to go to Google and type Harry's name in the search bar, because that will bring up any current news about him.
When the page finally loads, tons of websites pop up under the 'News' section and they all basically say the same thing: "Harry Styles out with mystery girl.....again."
I select the first one and it brings me to some celebrity gossip website. I READ the article word for word.
"Last night, Harry Styles, member of One Direction, was seen leaving a fashion show with the same mystery girl from his previous night out at club about a week ago. We don't know much about her, but a source has told us a few things. Her name is Camilla Avery. She is from the United States and is attending University of London. We don't exactly know how this average girl met this pop mega-star, but we assume they met at the club. So, Directioners, what do you think of the new romance?"
My jaw drops by the time I finish the article. Who is this 'source' and why did they go around telling my personal information to random gossipers? I decide to give Harry a call and see if he knows. I dial his number and he picks up after four rings.
"Hello, love." He speaks into the phone and his voice is deep and raspy, as if he just woke up.
"Hey. Were you sleeping?"
"I woke up about a minute before you called. What's up?"
"Have you read any of the new tweets or articles about us?"
"No, not yet. Should I?" He asks and I nod, forgetting that he can't see me.
"Yes, you definitely should. Just Google your name and click the first page that shows up."
YOU ARE READING
Dirty, Sexy, Politics. (Harry Styles)
Fanfiction"It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together… and I knew it."
