Hidden (One Direction Fanfic)

Chapter Seven

(Erika's P.O.V.)

I was hiding from Harry. Spencer warned me that he went looking for me, so I went to the front deck and put on my sunglasses and a big hat.

"Erika."

I looked up and sighed. That was a bad disguise. "What?"

"We need to talk," he said. I took off my sunglasses and looked at him calmly.

"I don't want to talk to you. Ever again. So run along; I have tanning to do. And you should be in your room."

"Erika! We have to talk!" he said, this time louder.

"Shut up, Styles! You'll draw attention!" I hissed. He frowned.

"EEEEEEEEERRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKAAAAAAA!" he shouted. I tackled him and slapped a hand over his mouth as people stared.

"Fine!" I shouted. I dragged him into the girls bathroom and locked the door. He looked around curiously.

"I've never been in the ladies' toilet before."

"Harry. You were going to talk to me about something," I reminded him. He looked at me.

"Oh right. You shouldn't stop having feelings because of Donny. It doesn't really help -"

"What would you know about that, Styles? Nothing. You're not an agent, you don't have new missions every two months. You don't meet people in danger all the time. You don't know shit about that," I hissed. He sighed.

"I know that you shouldn't ignore feelings. I've seen it all the time on Dr. Phil."

"You're so full of it, Harry! I am so glad Spencer wanted to trade because you are the single most annoying person I've ever met and the last person on earth I'd want to be responsible for!" I yelled, putting a finger to his chest. "So stay away from me."

I turned on my heel and made to leave. "You need help!" Harry shouted, sounding angry. I turned around fuming.

"Excuse me?"

"You. Need. Help. Whether it's professional help or my help, you need it. Because you're messed up," he said. I glared at him, hard, and slapped him across the face. Then I left the bathroom and slammed the door.

(Allie's P.O.V.)

I had rented out the ballroom for Louis and I so that I could teach him some self-defense. I hurried him into the room without anyone seeing us and shut the door quickly.

"Okay, I always stretch first. So just...do what I do," I said. I turned on the radio and the song Scream, by Usher came on. Louis smirked at me and I rolled my eyes and started to stretch.

He followed my lead most of the time but when I bent over with my legs open, I felt his eyes on my butt. I looked at him in the mirror and his face turned red and he did as I did.

When we finished stretching, I strapped him up in some protective gear. He snickered. "You really think you can beat me up?" he asked. I smirked.

"Fine. Show me what you've got, popstar," I said. I backed up and he stared at me with a stupid grin, waiting for me to start. Then, when he least expected it, I kicked him in the chest.

He fell back, startled, giving me time to punch his forehead (no worries, he has intense padding). I stomped on his foot and he bent over and I pushed him to the ground and put my foot on his back, keeping him there.

"Damn," he breathed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you just got your ass kicked by a girl. A girl who's four years younger than you."