I stretched in my large king sized bed and winced as my shoulder popped. I got out of bed and scrubbing my eyes I walked into the bathroom. I took a long hot shower and changed into a pair of loose faded jeans and a light gray tank top that matched my blue gray, thickly lashed eyes. I ran a brush through my slightly curly dark chocolate brown hair that stopped at the small of my back and curled inwards. Someone knocked on the door, some cleaning service I presumed, and I went to go answer it. Buckling my silver wristwatch on I opened the door. In my doorway stood a smiling Harry Styles. He grinned and handed me a bright white flower.
“I found you!” He sang. I was surprised, it had been 5 days since I had seen him outside when I was walking here. All I had given him was my first name, there must be a million Julia's in London! I let him into my room and tossed the flower onto the table by the door.
“Hey my flower!” He exclaimed watching me.
“That flower is fake, AND its from the vase of flowers down the hall on the table next to room 135.” I said nonchalantly, crossing my arms in front of me and planting my feet. He smiled sheepishly at my words and shrugged.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“Well I saw you get into a car and I memorized the number and got my friend to track the car an-” He began,
“The truth.” I interrupted, I had no car.
“The car was a good guess though right, I mean most people would have cars.” He began to ramble. I glared at him.
“I hired a private detective 2 days ago to look for a visiting American Julia who is staying at a hotel. I also gave him your description.” He shrugged.
“You had no right.” I snarled, “I didn't give you my full name for a reason.” He backed off his smiling face disappearing. He looked so sad.
“I don’t even know your name.” I said rubbing my face tiredly, pretending I didn't know him at all, which is true, I probably don't know him at all.
“Harry.” He said after a pause in which I could see his surprise that I don’t know who he is. Or THOUGHT I don’t know who he is.
“I meant first and last. And I was hoping for a number too.” I mocked. He smiled remembering his words from the last time we had met.
“I'll give you my number if you give me yours..” He said.
“You could get your private detective to find my number for you.” I answered. He gasped in mock horror.
“But that would be WRONG!”
“Tracking me down and coming to my hotel room on the other hand...”
“Oh that’s different.” He answered, I laughed.
“You have a nice laugh.” He said, looking at me.
“Thanks.” I uncrossed my arms. “Look I don't mean to be rude, but is there something you want from me?”
“Why can't you believe I just want to get to know you?!” He exclaimed.
“You could secretly be a serial killer. I'm just protecting myself.”
“The only thing you need protection from is my dashing good looks.” He flirted, flipping his curly locks. I laughed at his idiocy.
“Look I made you laugh. Can I have your number now?”
“Nope.” I said popping the p. He growled.
“I won't give up!” He shouted. “I'm taking you to meet the lads tomorrow. No questions.” Before I could protest he twirled and ran out of the room. “I'll pick you up at 11:30 tomorrow morning.” He tossed over his shoulder, closing the door behind him. That boy. I could only assume 'the lads' meant the rest of the band. I smiled at him and grabbed my black trench coat, London is terribly wet and cold. I wrapped my blue scarf around my neck and went out, grabbing my purse. I went to the little coffee shop around the corner and ordered some hot chocolate and a croissant and ate it on the go, spending the day wandering and drawing things in London. I'm an artist and an author. I wrote 1440 Miles, The Emerald Ring, and a few others. All by the time I turned 18, i'm 19 now and I had just finished college in May, Its June now. I'm here in London to write, to wander. I had had to go to meetings here in London with my agent to talk about movie rights yesterday. And the day before I had gone to a few art gallery's who wanted to display my work. I spent today sitting on benches and drawing. It was only when it was dark that I began to walk to the hotel again. I was a block away when someone grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into a gap in between two buildings.
I tried to scream but someone clamped their hand over my mouth and pushed me up against a wall, he flipped out a knife and pointed it at me. There were 4 of them, the one holding the knife, 2 others hovering behind him and a 4th standing in the opening of the alley as lookout.
"Give me the purse!” the man holding the knife snarled. I gasped and did nothing so he slapped me and I fell to the ground. He snatched my purse and tossed it to one of his cronies. Rifling through it quickly, i breathed a sigh of relief that I had put my wallet in my pocket, hidden beneath my coat. My purse just held my drawing items, my writing book, and a few other random items like tissues. I lay on the wet ground, one hand over my cheek.
“There's nothing valuable in here.” The one with my purse growled, disgusted.
“Someone's coming, we gotta go!” The lookout hissed. The leader grabbed my purse and threw it at me. He spit at me and kicked me in the ribs,hard. I almost blacked out from the pain. The two others who weren't lookouts came and kicked me as well. I blacked out as the thugs dashed out of the alley.
Waking up to the pittering rain, I lay there for a bit, gasping, and finally pulled myself up. My stomach churned and I threw up twice before I managed to stand and stumble on to the hotel. Luckily it was late -I had no idea how long I had been out- so no one was in the lobby and I managed to get upstairs without anyone seeing me. After changing out of my wet clothes and taking a hot shower I fell onto bed and passed out.
YOU ARE READING
Crown Jules (One Direction Fan Fic)
FanfictionJulia Winters is a successful author on vacation in London when she runs into none other than Harry Styles. She quickly brushes him off, having no interest in him and his player ways. When he insists on getting to know her, she agrees, reluctantly...
