Styles' Ruse

Prologue

"If this doesn't work, Styles, I'll kick your arse."

"Relax mate, you can do this." Louis' eyes were fixed on me as Harry was massaging my shoulders - like what the trainers did to their boxers before they entered the ring to have a match.

"You've got this, Horan!" Harry encouraged. "Just like we planned."

Time to get the party started, as they say, aye?

"Knock 'em out," were the last words I heard from them as I entered the opposite room, the door shutting behind me.

* * *

". . . missing interviews, being late for recordings," Emily, the head of management, rambled on and on about how "unprofessional" I was being lately. I was just half-listening. Trust me, it's difficult to pay attention to her.

"We're serious, Horan," she continued. "You have weeks to get yourself together. Or else-,"

"Or else what? You'll kick me out of the band? We both know that won't be good for sales." I taunted.

She gave me a look of pure annoyance. "Just get yourself together. Do whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes?" I raised an eyebrow at her. Gotcha. I composed myself, trying to hide my excitement.

Harry & Louis' plan is actually working. I could already see their smug faces & hear their voices, telling me, "I told you so!" in a way that's equal to a slap in the face. Damn those English bastards.

Emily observed me carefully, and I tried my best to act normal. In the end though, she gave up with a sigh. "Whatever it takes, Niall. Just get yourself together."