Captured

When I woke up the next morning, I half-expected to receive a call from any of One Direction's representative telling me about a meeting with their publicist or whatever they call that, since Liam told me it's important that we discuss the 'consequences' of our actions as soon as possible. But I thought it was unnecessary as I opened my television.

"Welcome to the show, Harry," the interviewer said, smiling at him like he was angel sent from up above. I swear my eyes popped out of its sockets when I saw him sitting comfortably in that red couch, a cup of coffee in his hand, and realized that this was a morning show, and it's live all over America, and in just a matter of minutes, the world will know about it too. I can't believe he's doing this without the other boys, without me.

"So Harry, let's get straight to the point. Where were you in the past three days?"

He didn't even stop to think, "I was on vacation with my mates."

"But the tabloids say you were kidnapped."

"We weren't kidnapped," he put emphasis on the word 'kidnapped' and I kind of wished I had the power to compel that cup of coffee to levitate and douse it over his existence, "Our friend, was kind enough to offer her beach house which is in a private island off the coast of New York."

Our friend.

Friend.

I was never your friend, Harry.

"So about this friend..I believe we're talking about Austin Schneider?"

"Yes we are," and his infamous grin outlines his lips.

"Photos from the surveillance camera in her hotel in Manhattan suggest that you two are getting comfortable with each other."

If you mean, we're periodically throwing snide remarks at each other, then yes, Harry Styles and I are getting comfortable.

Harry scoffed, "They didn't show you the rest of the photos? Well, I was rather intoxicated that time, and I know it's illegal, and I met her in that elevator and started kissing her. And those were probably one of the best fifteen seconds in my life."

The audience and the interviewer spontaneously aw-ed.

"Until she hit my balls and slapped me in the face. And I deserved that, and I am terribly sorry for that, Austin dear," he stared directly at the camera like he was so sure that I'd watch his stupid interview, "Now the point is, despite that incident, we're very okay. And like I said, we're friends, and if we weren't friends she wouldn't have agreed to take us into her lovely beach house."

"But you never answered the question, Harry?"

"You never really asked me anything. But assuming that you asked me that question, no, Austin Schneider and I are not dating."

And that ended the interview. It also ended my willingness to endure any more of Harry's stunt, and it ended every good left in me. I grabbed my phone from my bedside desk and called Bridget.

She answered right away.

"Oh my god Austin. I swear I had no prior knowledge of this. Not even the other boys did. Niall just texted me that Harry simply disappeared this morning and voilà, he's having an interview and saying things like you guys are okay."

"Clearly, that is the problem, Bridget. We are not okay. We are not even remotely close to O in okay. How could he do this? Are the boys still in Manhattan?"

"Yes, and I believe they'll be staying for the weekend for more interviews and st-"

"Bridget, I don't care why One Direction is here in Manhattan. I am more interested in where that Harry Styles is and what he has to say with what he just revealed to millions of people across the country,"I interrupted, then cut the line.

I heard a gentle knock on my door. "Come in," I yelled.

"What's with the bad mood, gummy bears?"

I nearly forgot that Marcus stayed in my house for the night.

"Harry Styles happened," I said, with a stern enmity in my voice.

"Yes, I've heard. But I believe that you're going be in an even worse mood if you see the mob of press and reporters camping outside your house."

"WHAT. THE. HELL??"

I asked Marcus to handle the situation downstairs while I dress myself up and try to look as presentable and decent as possible. I wore a white V-neck shirt and topped it off with a black blazer, then black skinny jeans and black suede heels. I examined myself in the mirror and decided to tie my hair into a pony tail because it looks like a total mess when it has not been washed.

When I finally opened the tall wooden entrance door, I was bombarded with unfamiliar faces and random camera flashes. But this scene wasn't really new to me. Microphones, recorders, huge ass cameras. Growing up with a father who is the biggest name in the world of hotel business, I was trained to get used to the media, reporters, and sometimes people who pose as 'threat' to the company. I don't like my father's world, but do I have a choice? I'm his only daughter, his only child.

"Hi, you've been quite a distress to this household, so let me answer five questions and you may leave the vicinity immediately," I said, trying my best to smile and be nice to my unwanted visitors.

"Austin, did you kidnap Harry Styles?" asked one lady from the very front.

"No, I did not," I answered firmly, making a mental note that that was one question down and four more to go.

"But is it true that he harassed you in your elevator and you kicked him in the balls?" asked an old guy who looked very young in his hipster glasses and Fedora hat. Adults these days.

"Yes that's very true."

Another man raised his hand and shoot his question, "So you're not dating him?"

"Nope," straight and clear.

"But you're friends? Despite what he did?"

"Of course we are. We're.." I choked on my thoughts, "..okay."

For a moment, I was very excited that this was finally going to end. One more question and it's over.

"So what can you say when Harry said that kissing you in that elevator was the best fifteen seconds of his life?"

The man who raised that question had a wicked grin, and if he weren't at the back of the group, I would have jumped at him and pulled his flesh apart. Suddenly, I wasn't even excited anymore. I was regretful and wished that I had a time machine so I could poof myself back to when I was just my father's pain in the ass, not some rumored girlfriend of some British pop star. Being a nuisance to my father, giving him headaches every once in a while, was way easier than this. Now I had to answer deceptive questions from sly interviewers in a rhetorical way in order to satisfy their thirst for rumors that would not even guarantee them a good life, otherwise, they'd continue to fabricate more delusive stories.

Now I understand how my father feels for having a pain in the neck as his only kid.

I took a deep deep breath, and said, "I'm sure Harry said 'one of the best fifteen seconds of his life'. You should get your research straight. My dignity is slightly damaged, but Harry had an excuse, and he said he's sorry. So I feel perfectly normal about his statement. Any more questions? No, because five questions are done. Now will you please skidaddle before I call my security to escort you to the cops for trespassing a private property. Thank you so much for your consideration."

I retreated to my bedroom, and when I checked my window and all of them were gone, I screamed really loud. I wasn't really sure whether that was because I was happy or really annoyed, but didn't care. I just really needed to scream. Really loud.

Moments later, Marcus entered and grinned at me, "That was really awesome, by the way. Answering those questions with very clever answers. You don't even need a publicist."

I looked at Marcus, then over him, out the window, hoping Harry Styles could hear me say, "Two can play at this game."