I grabbed Harry’s phone from his hands and stared at the pictures of the two of us from last night. Although the photo was dark and a tad grainy, it was easy to tell that the tall, curly-haired lothario was definitely Harry Styles from One Direction with me, a random, scantily clad, slightly intoxicated, and most importantly, nameless girl. There wasn’t just one photo of us exiting the club last night, but several. One photo was of us holding hands, in which you could clearly see it was Harry in his blue button up and dark jeans looking down at me as I smiled up at him. The most incriminating was of Harry pressing me up against the wall, his blue shirt and famously curly hair immediately giving away his identity. I scrolled down the screen to read the article corresponding with the photos.
One Direction’s Harry Styles was spotted kissing an unknown girl at an exclusive night club in North London last night after returning from America earlier in the day. Patrons of the club said that they saw Harry approach the anonymous girl at the club’s bar and soon after, saw them kissing inside the club. Not long after they were seen kissing, the pair we said to have hastily exited the club holding hands. One onlooker said:
I literally have no clue who the girl was. He sort of just went up to her and started talking to her. Even from afar, he seemed really in to her – holding on to her, pulling her into his lap, buying her drinks. It wasn’t long before they left together.
It appears that Harry Styles is back to his womanizing ways after months on hiatus in the party scene, presumably to focus on the promotion of One Direction’s album and upcoming tour that begins in Birmingham next week.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself as I stared at the screen, unable to conceive that I was featured in The Sun with, apparently, the biggest womanizing pop star in London. I handed Harry’s phone back to him, hopped off the counter, and pressed the palm of my hand against my forehead, unsure of what to say.
“I’m really sorry, Del. I didn’t see the cameras. We should’ve gone through the back door,” he said, apologizing profusely. I shook my head at him and his brow furrowed in confusion.
“No, I’m sorry, Harry. They don’t even know who I am in those pictures. You’re the one who will have to deal with the press, not me,” I quietly said while looking down at the floor. I looked up at him and the atmosphere between us had suddenly changed. Gone was the playful banter and the curiousness we had for each other when we woke; it had been replaced with guilt and shame, having the public know of the fact that Harry so eagerly took me home last night.
“I should go,” I said quietly, eyes fixed on my bare feet on the dark hardwood floors.
“You don’t have to,” he replied softly, not wanting to force me out of his home.
“No, I should be going. It’s ten already. My roommates are probably wondering where I am.”
“Okay. You said you wanted to borrow some clothes, yeah? Come upstairs and I’ll find your something.” I silently nodded and we began to bound up the stairs towards his bedroom. He opened the door and the morning sunlight that had so graciously speckled Harry’s cheeks as he slept this morning was now shrouded with grey and it was the splashes of raindrops casting small, patterned shadows on the wooden floors. Our clothes were still strewn across the room and I managed to find my sparkly dress on the floor by the foot of the bed. Bending down, I retrieved the garment and began folding it neatly, when I found my clutch containing a tube of lip gloss, some money, and my cell phone. I pressed the button to wake up my phone and was immediately inundated with a screen full of unread text messages. I gasped, loud enough for Harry to stop searching through drawers to look at the cause for my reaction. I held up my phone a bit higher, acknowledging that I was looking at it as I sat on the edge of Harry’s bed.
