Red [h. styles]

Ten

10

When Harry entred the kitchen, there were waffles on the table and a phone in Jena's hand. She was staring at her phone as if held the key to the universe, and if she could just decipher it she would understand everything.

"Do I get my answer now?" Harry pressed, and Jena looked up, terrified.

"I don't think I have a choice." Jena's voice was high and quiet, her forehead wrinkling in fear. Jena tilted the screen up to show him, Harry taking the phone in his large hands.

Harry Styles Seen About New York With Redhead

"Oh no," he said sadly.

"Looks like we weren't careful enough," Jena said, taking her phone back. "They don't know it's me yet, but soon your fans will start searching for redheads. They'll find me easily, there aren't many redheads in New York. They'll see that my last name is Townes, they'll connect it to the song Carolina, and they'll know it was me out with you. It's only a matter of time."

"I'm really sorry about this," Harry said, running a hand through his bed head.

"Don't be. You didn't ask for the paparazzi, and even then, I'm equally at fault for not avoiding them better." Jena sighed. "But hey, at least now my decision was made easy for me. Congratulations, Boyband, you're officially my boyfriend."

Harry gaped at her, eyebrows furrowing. "Red, you don't have to—"

"I want to," Jena promised him, "this article has merely forced my hand."

"Okay, then." Harry said, mind whirring. "I'll have to follow you on all forms of social media I can, and post a picture of the two of us. We need to go as public as possible to avoid any false claims. I'll call my PR agent Amy, she'll help us come up with a game plan."

"I'll let you handle most of it," Jena said comfortingly, "you've had much more experience than I. Anything I can do to help, I will."

"Thanks, Jen." Harry murmured. "You're being a great sport about all this."

"Stop acting like loving you is such a chore," Jena chided, "I would have said yes anyway. I just happened to do it sooner because of the press."

Harry kissed her hand, brushing his lips over the rings she had stolen from him. "I'm going to call Amy," he rasped, and Jena nodded.

"I'll give you some space."

Jena walked into the bedroom, curling up in the bed. She was texting her friends as quickly as she could, trying to make sure they heard the news from her.

Only minutes after Jena had finished, her phone rang, and Jena picked it up resignedly.

"AAAAAAAAAAH!" A shriek came through the phone, and Jena held it away from her ear with a grimace.

"Hi, Stacey."

"YOU'RE WITH HARRY STYLES!" Stacey screeched, and Jena readied herself for what may be the most awkward conversation of her life.

"Yes, yes I am."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" Stacey sounded near tears, and Jena had no clue why she was getting so emotional.

"I did tell you. Just now." Jena quipped.

"You know what I mean!" Stacey shouted.

"Look, Stace," Jena tried to explain, "we wanted to keep it low-key. But we were caught together so we decided to go public. So I told you."

"Is he as hot as he looks?" Stacey squealed.

"Hotter," Jena humored her, "his eyes are like a forest. You can get lost in them."

"That is so dreamy!" Stacey squealed. "I wish I lived in New York!"

"Actually," Jena said awkwardly, "I met him in Portland."

"Jena," Stacey sounded serious, "your last name is Townes, isn't it?"

"Yes." Jena admitted, only to be met with another scream.

"HARRY STYLES WROTE THE SONG CAROLINA ABOUT YOU, DIDN'T HE?!?"

"Yes." Jena stated again.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!" Stacey said, all in a rush. "This is crazy. You're crazy. Everything's crazy!"

"I'm going to go crazy," Jena muttered.

"What was that?" Stacey asked.

"Nothing," Jena waved her off, "oh, look, Harry's returned. I'll talk to you later, Stacey."

"But—"

Jena hung up. Harry hadn't actually entred the room, Jena was just sick of Stacey's squealing.

Jena closed her eyes for a second, letting out a long breath. This was going to be even more work than she had originally thought.