The Story of Us-- One Direction/ Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter Two - Hard to Get

      Chapter Two - Hard to Get

      How loud and incredibly rude of them, I thought to myself. Here I was, trying to commit suicide and there were laughing and squealing with joy. It wasn't a very suicidal atmosphere. And what was with the whole 'love' thing? What are we, British? I spun around to face them, scowling. 

     "Go away," I muttered, trudging out of the water. One of them, the tall Arab looking one, kicked the soccer ball at me with an evil grin on his face. My instincts kicked in and I jumped, hitting the ball with my head and letting it soar back to him. He caught it, his mouth agape. 

     "Wanna play with us?" the blond Irish sounding one asked. 

     "No thanks," I said, stepping into the sand and walking past them. 

      "Why were you in the water?" another one chirped. He was tall and lanky with pretty brown hair. I stopped and looked at them all. There were five of them, all incredibly studly and foreign looking. There was no way American boys could look like these guys. My initial thought? Models.

      "I was...going for a swim." I lied, immediatly rubbing my hands on my thighs. I always did this when I lied, yet nobody ever noticed. Of course, one of them did. 

     "You swim with your clothes on?" I recognized the voice immediately. He was the one who had broken my train of thought earlier. I squinted in his direction. Curly, I thought. 

     "Yes, it's...it's an American thing. You Brits wouldn't know," I spat, turning around and heading home. They laughed at my bizarre and stupid remark. Of course, I couldn't think of a better excuse and these boys obviously weren't stupid. I walked back into our beach house, letting the screen door slam shut behind me. I grabbed a cookie out of the cookie jar and stared out the window, watching them toss the soccer ball around and play like little kids. Then, I watched him. His head was covered in messy, curly hair. He wasn't too tall, yet he had a good body. 

     "Hey, who's that?" Taylor asked, grabbing my cookie out of my hand and proceeding to shove it down his throat. I picked up a newspaper off of the table and threw it at him. He flinched when it slammed into his back but his eyes were glued to the boys. 

     "I don't know, Taylor, nor do I even care." I said, grabbing another cookie. 

     "Yeah right. That's what you always say when you're interested in something," Taylor said, dusting his hands from the cookie crumbs. "You think they'd want to hang with me and Hayden?" I scoffed. 

      "Aw, T, don't get your hopes up. These guys look popular, they're way out of your league." I teased. 

     "Shut up, smurf..." Taylor muttered. I picked up one of Gran's old ceramic apples from the glass bowl and chucked it at him. He ducked out of the way and the apple flew through the closed window, landing in the sand a few feet away. Taylor turned to me and burst into a fit of laughter. 

      "YOU ARE SO DEAD!" 

      "I am going to destroy you, Taylor!" I roared. Taylor giggled like a little girl and ran outside. I was right on his heels when again, my train of angry thoughts was interrupted. 

    "Hey, is this yours?" I spun around and saw Curly holding Gran's old apple. Just my luck, I thought to myself, walking over to him and plucking the apple out of his hand. 

     "Yeah, thanks." I said, looking up into his green eyes. He flashed me a cocky smile. 

     "See something you like?" I scoffed. 

     "Not likely. I have this big 'no British' policy." I said. He grinned even wider. He actually found this amusing.

     "Oh yeah? And why's that?" he questioned, crossing his arms over his white v-neck. I shrugged.

      "Oh, you know. Old grudge. I guess I'm still not over the fact that your people killed my great great great grandfather." I answered sarcastically. He chuckled and rubbed his thumb against his chin. 

      "You know, your people and my people were once the same people?" 

      "Actually, my people were French. Not British. Maybe you should stick to soccer. I'm sure that would impress the girls more than your history skills." I said, patting his arm. He smiled and raised his eyebrows at me flirtatiously. Suddenly, Taylor appeared next to me, out of breath. 

      "Who's this?" he asked, eyeing Curly. I bit my lip. 

      "Um..." Curly seemed to notice my discomfort and smiled, extending his hand to Taylor. 

      "I'm Harry, Harry Styles. My mates and I came here for a visit. Seems like a nice place," Taylor shook his hand eagerly.

      "Taylor Beck, welcome to Long Beach. I see you've met my sister Charlotte then?" Taylor asked, turning to me. I rolled my eyes. 

      "Charlotte. No, I haven't had the pleasure of knowing your sister's name. You see, she's been playing very hard to get." Harry said, grinning down at me. 

      "Well, this has all been marvelous, but Taylor and I should get going now! Have a pleasant day," I said, grabbing Taylor's arm and dragging him away. 

      "Hey, wait! Would you lot want to join me and my mates for dinner later? We don't know our way around here very well and it'd be great to get you know you...and this place a lot better." Harry called. Taylor slapped my hand away and grinned. 

      "Yeah, sounds great! What do you think, Char?" Taylor asked, spinning towards me. I glanced at him and then at Harry who had another cocky smile planted right on his stupid yet beautiful face. 

     "Sounds great..." I muttered.

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