The Choreographer

48: Haters

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I'm shampooing my hair trying to let the stress roll off of me with the water. I keep telling myself that tabloids are meant to rile up the person they're writing about. The problem is that I'm not riled up, I'm hurt. I couldn't even say that the tabloids are lying, because they're not. Young Isabel was bullied, she was not popular, and she in no way could lift her leg up over her head.

The bathroom door opens.

"Hey," Harry says. He must have just gotton home.

"Hi." I reply.

I'm glad I hid my hair dye. I don't need Harry to know of my possible plans. I hear a clinking noise that sounds like a belt being undone.

I rinse the shampoo out of my hair and am about ot put conditioner in when the shower curtain opens behind me.

I look over my shoulder and see Harry, naked, getting in the shower.

"No," Is all I say.

He closes the curtain. "It's already a yes, love." He smirks at me.

I close my hand around the conidtioner in my palm and adjust my arms so their covering my chest. I roll my eyes and stand still refusing to move.

Harry only chuckles. He puts his hands on my waist and moves me away from the stream of water.

"You act like this is the first time I've seen you naked." He thinks out loud while getting his hair wet.

I know I have a sour look on my face as I turn away from him and put the conditioner in my hair.

"I mean, I already knew you had a mole on your lower back." He says, and I think he may be trying to further my embarassment.

I pump more conditioner in my hand and rake what I need throught he ends of my hair. I have some left in my palm. I'm about to force it into my hair when Harry talks again.

"I love how you won't even look at me..." Again, it sounds like he's talking o himself about me, more than to me. "It's not like this would be the first time for you either..."

I roll my eyes and my neck and turn around to face Harry. I throw the remainder of my conditioner at him. "Shut up." I tell him.

He smirks as the conditioner hits his neck. "Where exactly were you aiming for?"

"Your eyes."

"You missed." He says.

"You are very observant." I grouch.

"Why are you in such a mood?" He asks.

I throw my hands up in the air. "This is not the time for a serious conversation."

"Why not?" He asks.

I gesture toward him. "You'e naked. I'm naked..." I shake my head looking at him like he's crazy.

Harry shrugs and uses my shampoo. "You know, I like this brand, whatever it is, it smells good." He closes his eyes and smells the shampoo.

I just stare at him before grabbing my pouf and putting body wash on it.

Harry gently grabs my arm, stopping me. "Tell me why you're so upset."

"Your fans." Is all I say. And it's true, I am not able to go on the internet without seeing something about Harry and I, and then I long into my Twitter and I am tweeted horrible things.

They ask Harry if he knew, they tell him that I am awful, that I'm fake.

And I hate them. I wish I didn't but I do.