Glass Flowers

Chloe’s plan was straightforward enough; at least, that was what she kept insisting. All I had to do was talk to Harry, get to know him, and earn his trust. If all went well, he’d start confiding in me, and then Chloe would have herself an all-access pass to Harry Styles’ innermost thoughts.
The only problem was (well, it was a problem to me, at least), I highly doubted that her plan would get much farther than the initial meeting. Harry and I would meet, and just like any other guy, he would quickly grow bored of me and move on with his life.

He would waltz off into the sunset with Chloe in tow, and I’ll be left to continue being plain ol’ me. Chloe would have a nice laugh about it, I’d imagine. She would shrug it off, smile that big smile of hers, and pat me on the back. ‘Well, it was worth a shot, April. Thanks anyway. I’m so glad I had nothing to worry about after all, you were right.’

I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around what I had gotten myself into. I swear, the things I did for this girl. And the fact that this guy happened to be famous was just the icing on the metaphorical cake. If the cake was poisonous, that is.

Trust Chloe to not only get a guy, but an international superstar and member of the ultra-famous band One Direction. The girl will never cease to amaze me with her capacity to attract members of the opposite gender.

When she first mentioned the name Harry Styles, I couldn’t really believe it. “Wait, that guy with the hair? From the band OneRepublic?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “One Direction, April. ONE DIRECTION. How can you still not know who they are? I’ve been telling you about them for months.”

I really had nothing to defend myself with, especially when she put it that way. I lived under a rock, I guess. Before I could come up with a witty comeback, Chloe shrugged it off.

“You know what? It’s fine, I think we could use this to our advantage, actually. At least we don’t have to worry about you having a fangirl moment.”

She had a point there.

But still… “Um, Chloe? Could I ask you something?”

She blinked at me. “Sure, anything. What’s eating you?”

“Why did you come to me for this? Of all people, you should know that I have no experience with talking to guys, let alone impressing them…”

I trailed off uncomfortably, and not for the first time since agreeing to take part in Chloe’s plan, the doubt set in.

Could I really handle this? I still couldn’t figure out how I was going to get close to any guy, let alone my best friend’s famous boyfriend. I was April “Plain-Jane” Lin, after all. Impressing people and getting guys were Chloe’s specialties, not mine.

Oh, God, I couldn’t do this. No way.

“You’re the only person I trust to do this, April. And before you start self-hating, please take a moment to realize that guys do notice you.”

Chloe’s voice brought my thoughts to an abrupt halt, which was a very good thing for her, considering I was on the verge of blurting out my utter incompetence when it came to guys and how I really wasn’t up for the task, after all.

But that last part threw me. “Don’t be stupid, Chloe. Guys don’t see me.”

“You think I wouldn’t pick up on their subtle looks? They aren’t brave enough to chat you up, but they do notice you, April. They’re probably just scared off because you’re so hard to read.”

I was… hard to read? Wow, the rules of courtship and attraction were a lot more complicated than I thought.

“Again, not a big deal. You’re beautiful, so getting Harry’s attention won’t be a problem. What we need to work on is making a good first impression. You have to look confident. And not only that, you have to feel confident too. Guys love that.”

Well, that certainly explained why Chloe had so many guys wrapped around her dainty finger.

“I’m not confident," I blurted, the idea of acting remotely like Chloe startling me into speech. "Just the thought of chatting Harry up makes me uncomfortable, Chloe. Can’t you just—“

“You’re NOT backing out now, April. I have to do this. I have to know how he feels.”

The conviction in Chloe’s voice silenced me mid-protest.

“Now, as I was saying, we have to work on your confidence. Talking to guys isn’t hard at all, April. I’ll be there to help you every step of the way. Okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. There were so many things wrong with this that I wanted to bolt out of the room and forget about this stupid plan, and stupid Chloe with her stupid trust issues and her stupid boyfriend Harry Styles.

I had a terrible feeling in my gut that this plan was going to blow up in Chloe's face. If Harry ever found out about this, it would taint whatever the two of them had going on between them. If Chloe couldn't find it in herself to trust Harry, how in the world could anyone expect Harry to trust her?

I wondered, fleetingly, if he would be hurt. Or pissed beyond belief. I honestly didn't know the guy well enough to know how he'd react, but I knew it wouldn't be good.

But of course, I wasn’t about to say it out loud. I knew better than to argue with her, because I knew that it was an argument I was guaranteed to lose. Especially when Chloe got like this. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great! So, Harry and the rest of the band will be coming to the States in a week’s time to start their North American tour. Harry has no idea about who you are, or your connection to me, so we need to keep it that way. It’s crucial in order for this plan to work.”

I nodded. That part was obvious. Harry wasn’t going to confide in a girl that he knows is his girlfriend’s best friend. Especially since said best friend would most likely end up repeating whatever he says about her to his girlfriend.

Which I would, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Okay, so now that we have that part figured out, we need to work on how to set up the first meeting. Harry meeting you has to seem accidental. Hmm…”

The two of us got to work brainstorming ideas.

Which… brings me to this moment.

It had been a week since our discussion in my bedroom, and the arrival of One Direction did nothing to quell my fears or ease my anxieties.

Standing in front of an out-of-the-way café, tugging at the clothes that Chloe insisted I wear, I felt like a complete and utter idiot. Autumn had just started to take a stronger hold, the leaves on trees starting to change into a vast array of fiery colors, and the temperature was dropping. The Texas weather in October tended to vary greatly, and unfortunately for me, it was a particularly chilly day. I wrapped my arms around myself in a futile effort to keep warm as a strong gust of wind blew against me, throwing my neatly done hair into disarray.

I glanced around self-consciously, wondering at how much I must have stood out amongst the sea of people who were wearing clothes fit for fall weather.

As if I didn’t already feel like a fish out of water. Now I was sporting an outfit that I wouldn’t ordinarily even think of wearing, let alone showing off in public—a short, slim, form-fitting dress with an uncomfortably low cut to show off more cleavage than I was okay with, and heels (yes, heels. I spent a good two hours practicing how to walk in them, because before this moment, I had never worn heels in my life). The outfit was especially unpractical for this kind of weather, but practicality was the last thing on Chloe’s mind when she dressed me up.

Chloe had also done my hair in curls, finishing it off with a sequined butterfly clip. “To add a bit of your personal touch,” she had said. I had to admit, I looked uncommonly pretty.

This was all according to plan, of course. This was how we had decided the initial meeting should go down. Chloe told me that the boys would be at this café. She knew this because Harry had invited her to hang out with them.

Honestly, I didn’t see the purpose of this plan anymore. It was obvious to me that Harry held no thoughts of meeting other girls. If he did, he wouldn’t be so eager to spend time with his girlfriend. And ever since One Direction arrived in the United States, Harry made it a point to call Chloe, text her, talk to her on Skype…

… the guy seemed utterly besotted with Chloe, the poor sap. Why couldn’t she see that? It seemed plain as day to me.

For the hundredth time, it seemed, the door to the café swung open, and I glanced up anxiously. Nope, not them.

Of course it wasn’t. It never was. How long had I been standing here, anyway? Those boys sure knew how to take their sweet time.

With a sigh, I lowered my gaze and adjusted my dress again. Why did the stupid hem keep riding up…?

After a particularly hard tug, I lost my balance and stumbled awkwardly in my heels. My heart jumped to my throat as I felt my ankle twist underneath me, and as I began my face-first descent to the ground, I cursed Chloe and her stupid persistence.

If she had let me wear flats like I wanted…

A pair of arms shot out of nowhere, and immediately my balance was regained. My ankle throbbed a little, but at least some of my shattered dignity was left intact.

The smell of cologne and musk that was utterly male overtook my senses, and my head spun. I forced myself to snap out of it and thank my rescuer, whose arms were still holding me steady.

I glanced up, about to utter a quick ‘thank you’ and be on my way, when I took a good look at who, exactly, had come to my rescue.

And my words died in my throat, my mind froze, and my heart started beating erratically in my ribcage, threatening to break free.

The blood was pounding in my ears. I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

There, smiling warmly at me, his eyes alight with amusement and concern, hands still gripping my arms, and standing uncomfortably close, was Harry freaking Styles.

I squeaked.