My steaming shower does nothing to relax me. Curled ringlets flatten against my back as damp hair becomes sopping wet hair. I stand in the middle of the stream with closed eyes, allowing my glittery eye makeup and dark mascara to cascade down my foundation caked face. My eyes remain closed as I sit down on the tiles to allow the warmth to wash over me whole and attempt to clear my mind. My actions are proven futile as Harry's deep chuckle raked through my mind as he agrees to the game.
I cannot wrap my head around the fact that I agreed to the loser bungee jumping off of the Golden Bridge. I don't want to bungee jump off of a bridge!
Wait, why would I? I'm not going to fall in love with him. He's just attractive and makes me question my entire existence.
Maybe he's just appealing because he's a foreigner. Despite knowing him for a year, he's still strange. He's mysterious, even the way he makes tea is intriguing.
What even possessed me to bring up such a stupid idea? What kind of hallucinate was dropped into my cup to fuck me up so bad that I proposed the idea that Harold Styles be my fake boyfriend?
Idiot.
Just don't fall for his charms. His gorgeous looks.. His pink lips.. I wonder how his lip ring would feel-
"No!" I scolded myself, tangling my hands in my wet hair. I curled myself, resting my head against my bent knees as the hot water beat down on my back.
I'm already losing this stupid game.
I sat in heat until it became too much to handle and I reach forward to turn off the water. When I pull back my shower curtain, I struggle to breathe with the amount of smoke fogging the bathroom. I wrap my towel around my body and pick up my dirty clothes to dump them in my hamper outside my room door. I'm once again standing in the foggy bathroom and use my hand to wipe at the mist that sticks to the mirror.
As I stare at my reflection, makeup streaking down my face, I wonder just what the fuck was wrong with me.
"Idiot." I mutter to myself before grumpily turning on the cold water and splashing my face with it. My head is mildly pounding as I continue to sober up. I wash my face, removing all of the remnants of my streaky makeup. I brush my teeth and french braid my soaking wet hair down my back.
After successfully making it back to my bed, I cuddle into the warm blankets that rest neatly on my made bed. I catch the blurry glimpse of my digital clock that reads the time of 3:18am. Only the time processes before I am drifting off to sleep; unwillingly dreaming of a tall British boy with forest green eyes.
. . .
The blaring scream of Backstreet Boys startles me. I gasp, eyes shooting open and heart racing. My ringtone sounds loudly, alerting me that I am receiving a call. Blurry eyes fail to process the caller ID when I answer with a groggy, "Ugh, hello?"
"Good morning sunshine, I never thought you'd wake up."
Just what I wanted to hear at - I pull my phone away from my face to check the time - 11 o'clock in the morning.
"What do you want?" I whine, throwing myself back into my bed and bringing my blankets to my face to shun out the sunlight that creeps through the gaps between my dark curtains.
"You weren't answering any of my calls, I figured you'd died or something."
"Ngh, no. Harry drove me home last night after he took me out to get some ice cream." I yawn into the speaker.
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Fanfiction"We'll sweet talk, play fight, and talk 27/4. We'll tell each other good morning, and goodnight everyday, and take walks together. We'll give each other nicknames. We'll hang out with each other's friends, and go on dates and talk on the phone all n...
