Let's Pretend It's Love

My friends knew that I wasn't the right kind of person for "parties".

You know what I mean. Those wild parties teenagers throw that always somehow includes appalling dance moves to equally horrible music, at least ten kids going off to have sex in another room, and/or alcohol. Mostly beer.

I had two left feet. I wasn't into mainstream media. I didn't drink.

So why the hell was I here?

Oh yeah, that's right- my friends dragged me here without me getting any say in the matter as to whether I wanted to or not. They kept whining and moaning, "you need to have some fun once in a while, this is your chance".

And here I stand now; the only female not wearing a dress or skirt or high heels, the only person not dancing, and the only human being without a cup of Budweiser or Miller Lite in her hand. I am standing out like a sore thumb and must resort to being a wallflower. As for my "friends"? They're probably off making out with semi-appealing guys or have already gotten themselves laid.

Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot.

This fucking blows.

Why can't you just leave? My brain finally kicked in and asked me that question. True... there was really no reason to stay. Not like the others would care... even though they were my ride home.

Damn it.

I rolled my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat before slumping to the kitchen for a glass of water. Hey, it was better than indulging on whatever the hell everyone else was chugging.

The outside porch was the only relatively peaceful place. The music was loud enough where it could be heard from the cracks in the doors and windows, but it was nowhere near as muggy as inside.

That was good.

Plus, I couldn't trace the smell of sex, sweat and beer puke from anywhere, anymore.

That was very good.

"Heyyyyy, girlllllll!"

And, one of my friends is plastered already. Great.

I groaned, disguising it as a sigh. "What?"

The other female slumped next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders rather sloppily and taking a drink of the liquid in her cup. I'll give you three guesses as to what it is. "Wh-whaddya doin' out h-here?" she pondered. "You're m-m-m-missing out on a great pa-a-arty!"

"I thought you knew I'm not a party girl," I informed her. "You obviously forgot. You and everyone else, apparently."

She snorted. "Don't be a p-party pooper," a cup similar to the one in her fingers was pushed into my hand. "Drink up and catch up!" she cackled like a hyena at her statement, somehow finding it funny.

It only took one sniff to find out what was in my cup. With a grimace, I tossed it carelessly into the bushes. "I ain't drinking cow piss."

"Awwww, but c'mo-o-o-on!" my companion whined like a toddler, her lopsided grin quickly turning into a pout.

"No, I already told you this a thousand times. I don't drink beer."

Once more, she proceeded to complain in a high-pitched voice about how I wasn't enjoying myself and needed to loosen up. And frankly, I was having none of it.

So I surprisingly did the unthinkable, even for me.

I swung my hand around and gave my drunken friend a good, hard slap to the face.

"No!" I screamed to her. "Don't you understand one fucking bit of what I'm saying to you? I'm not enjoying this party, I don't want to enjoy this party, I will not drink any beer, and I just wanna go home!"

For good measure, I snatched her cup and dumped the liquid over her head before storming to the backyard in a fit of fuming rage.

Can I take back the earlier statement about not wanting to enjoy myself here? I feel kinda stupid now.

I didn't notice him until- literally- just now. He socialized, sure, but wasn't seen with a cup, nor was he dancing as much as the others. But not just those things. He had dark brown hair, styled in a curly mop-top fashion, sparkling green eyes, all on a body of peach skin, covered with a white v-neck top, dark blue skinny jeans, tan slip-on shoes, and a gray sweater.

And he was cute, too. That was the best part.

I also didn't notice him heading straight for me. Actually walking towards me. Is he blind? Has he mistaken me for another girl?

Nope. He continues taking strong, yet graceful strides across the room to sit on the couch next to me. The strangest urge to pinch myself is rising. I have got to be dreaming all this.

Then, he speaks. "You shouldn't be a wallflower, love. Get up and dance."

His voice. Deep and sexy, with an accent. I think that was the best part.

Still, I manage to shrug. "Sometimes I wish I was able to," I say. "I can't dance to save my life. Even if I tried I'd fall over and everyone would laugh at me."

The boy scoots closer to me and weaves his fingers through mine. "They won't laugh at you. I'll make sure they don't." He gives me this gorgeous smile.

For some reason I can't help but smile back. "So," I assume. "You're the charming type." It was more of a statement than a question. Still, he chuckled with that grin still on his face.

"Only to the pretty girls," he adds in. As I feel my cheeks turn pink and I stifle a giggle, he stands up and tugs on my hand slightly. He's still holding it. "Come dance with me."

Biting my lip and glancing around quickly, I stare up into his eyes. "Only if you tell me your name."

The boy pulls me up out of my seat, walking with me to the center of the room where the others were dancing. It was a slower song, but still good for moving around like normal. As he wraps his arms loosely around my waist, I put mine around his neck. He moves closer to whisper in my ear, "Harry."

The current song stops, and suddenly the girls are cheering and screaming. It's been changed to One Direction's "Live While We're Young".

"I like this song," I murmur, a ghost of a smile on my face. Harry sees and flashes me a cheeky one of his own.

Slowly but surely I am warming up to dancing. My movements become more natural and... well, kinda sexy in a way. I can sway my hips and move my feet and actually look good doing it. Harry's hands are still on my waist as he dances with me. He mouths the words when I glance up to look at him.

"Let's go crazy, crazy, crazy, till we see the sun, I know we only met but let's pretend it's love, and never, never, never stop for anyone, tonight let's get some, and live while we're young," his eyes are practically shining as he gives me another million-dollar smile.

I can't help but smile back. I'm actually having fun.

The rest of the party was honestly a blur. It was mainly spent dancing and flirting with Harry, watching that beautiful smile of his grace his features every time I did something he liked.

I was surprised that he had been hanging out with me for this long of a time, but hell, I wasn't complaining. I couldn't even remember the last time I had a cute boy even talk to me. So of course I was going to try and make the rest of the night enjoyable.

I went back into the kitchen to refill my cup with water only to feel someone’s hand slip into mine, fingers intertwining. I can tell that it’s Harry, simply because he’s the only person who would risk being seen holding my hand. That, and his curls are tickling my cheek.

“Come with me,” he breathes in my ear, tugging me along with a rather flirtatious grin on his face. We pass through rooms where people are still dancing and drinking until we reach a dimly lit hallway, accompanied by a staircase that led upstairs.

He is still holding onto my hand as I unconsciously back up until I feel the wall against my back. His hand leaves mine only to rest on my hip. The other free hand moves up towards my face; his fingers trace my jawline before coming to a stop at the crease of my mouth. His thumb traces my cheek. His eyes meet mine. His gaze is deep and intense.

Then in a matter of seconds, Harry’s lips are on mine. His kiss is desperate, in a sense. One of my hands travels up to his neck and brings his face down closer to mine. He sucks on my bottom lip, to which my mouth opens. This continues for around two minutes before I manage to push him off, only to say in a breathless whisper, “…upstairs?”

A wicked smile forms on his face as he plants another hard kiss on my mouth, then takes me by the hand and leads me step by step up to a dark room at the end of the hallway. Fumbling with the doorknob, his shirt has already been discarded and thrown to the side. He slips mine off and tosses it next to his before claiming my lips again, shutting the door behind him with a slam.

For who knows how long that follows, faint rustling of fabric is accented with various sounds of moaning and sexually driven growls. The door remains locked. We don’t come out for the rest of the night.

I don’t know how I’m managing to fall asleep. I’m staring up at the ceiling for what seems like the fourth time this night. Light snoring reaches my left ear; Harry still has an arm draped around my waist and is nuzzling my neck while he sleeps.

How in the hell did this happen? Why did I let it happen, for one thing? Guys didn’t like me. Guys didn’t want me, either. So ending up in a random room, sprawled under the sheets with a boy I just met yesterday, who I also just figured out was a member of One Direction, was the biggest shocker in the world.

Of course I would probably be labeled as just another one-night stand to him. He was Harry freakin’ Styles, for god’s sake. He gets girls like no tomorrow, and I was just another check off on his list.
I try to move myself away, just to sit up and contemplate everything. Try to grasp what’s going on and get it through my head that yes, this really just happened. But I’m pulled back down onto the thick cotton covers by the boy who shagged me as of late.

“No,” he murmured, though it came out muffled from his lips kissing the top of my head. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”

Of course he’d say that. He’s probably just trying to win me over, or something. “Do you want me to, really?” I accidentally blurted out in a sarcastic tone. I didn’t mean for it to come across as that, but either way, he glanced up at me, his green eyes boring into mine.

I was quite surprised at the one word that came out of his mouth. “Yes.”

You’d think he’d be gone by now. With how much of a flirt he is and how many girls he gets at every opportunity, after each one night stand, he’d split. Not that I would’ve minded. I’d probably figure as much, since he’s a big time celebrity and all. Weird as it may be, I’d keep it as my… or our, little secret. No way people would believe me if I even told them, “Hey, guess what? I had a one-night stand with Harry Styles and don’t regret it at all.” No doubt they’d laugh and call me delusional. And do the same to everyone else that’d say something similar.

But… the fact that he stuck around? And wanted me to stay? I’m pretty sure my jaw would’ve dropped open had I not controlled myself enough.

The urge to snuggle up to him gave in, and I adjusted myself so my head rested on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his mid-section. His face buried in my hair, he once more planted a kiss on my cheek and pulled me close. Closing my eyes after a few minutes, I fell back asleep in the arms of Harry Styles.

But not before I heard him whisper in my ear, “Call me.”

I stifled a chuckle at that. That cheeky boy… I’d have to remember to give him my phone when I woke up. For now, I just smiled to myself and continued to pretend this was love.

Because… let’s face it- even though it wasn’t, it sure as hell felt like it.