Harry Styles Sexual Frustrations

Where Have You Been?

YOUR P.OV.

It was my first night in London. I was staying there for a month while going to a summer fashion program at the local university, and I thought going to the local club would be a good way to meet people and maybe, just maybe, meet someone special.

Out of the numerous clothing options, I settled for a simple blue body-con dress with a black belt that hugged my curves perfectly and ended the perfect amount of distance from my knees. It wasn’t slutty; it wasn’t conservative.

It was sexy.

I wasn’t going to the Funky Buddha Club just because I’d seen Andy Samuels tweeting about it constantly. Well, part of me was. But it was close to the hotel I was staying in, and it just made sense.

After getting ready I went down to the lobby and hailed a cab, noticing passersby looking at me. I wondered why, but then I remembered what I was wearing. My simple black heels elongated my legs, and I’d curled my hair so it fell loosely past my shoulders. Looking in my reflection, I smiled in satisfaction. I looked hot.

A few minutes later I was at the club, gaining access easily. I walked in and was immediately consumed by the heavy bass and the smoky perfume- and cologne-filled atmosphere. It was my first time ever in a club, and already I was loving it.

HARRY’S P.O.V.

I was sitting in one of the corner booths of the VIP section when she walked in. The blue dress contrasted with the dim lighting, causing my eyes to automatically draw to her. The way the dress hugged her curves and the way her heels made her legs look got to me, and I knew in a quick moment I was leaving with her tonight.

The bartender handing her a bourbon and coke intrigued me even more, and I tried to think of a girl I knew who ordered that kind of drink. I failed, though, which told me this girl was unlike any other.

She leaned against the bar, sipping her drink every few seconds, and took in the scene. I kept my eyes on her, hoping she’d look my way and see me staring.

When she did, I didn’t look away.

YOUR P.OV.

The moment I saw him, I knew there was a reason I’d decided to go out tonight. Sitting in the VIP section across the room was Harry Styles of One Direction. I was into the band, very much, but never once did I think I’d meet any one of its members, let alone Harry. Out of the five hunks, Harry was definitely my favorite. A girl would have to be a lesbian to say he wasn’t attractive. With a hypnotizing smile and dimples to match, he could steal a girl’s heart with just one grin.

I caught his gaze and held it, sipping my Captain and Coke simultaneously. His green eyes were piercing even through the smoky haze, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at him much longer. Thankfully I didn’t have to.

Just as I was about to look away, a guy about 6’4” stepped in the way, smiling down at me with blue eyes and straight white teeth. His light brown hair was perfectly quaffed, and I could tell by the way he handled himself that he was used to girls falling all over him.

“Hey, babe,” he said to me in that beautiful accent that would be filling my ears for the next month. He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never seen you here before, are you new in town?”

“Good guess,” I smiled at him. “Summer fashion program.”

Smiling, he tilted his head. “American, I see. When did you get here?”

“This afternoon,” I told him.

His eyes widened. “Well, welcome to the beautiful London,” he laughed, then moved closer to where our bodies were almost touching. “I could show you around if you’d like. You know, all the tourist attractions.”