Status: Finally started a Niall story!
A Beautiful Mess
Cupcake
Mystery girl leaving Harry Styles' flat?
Walk of shame, dear lass? We think so! We have eyes everywhere, love. You can't hide from us.
Although we didn't get a good look at her face, we got a good look at what she was wearing. One of Harry's jumpers and beanies! And sunglasses! She's just a sly little girl. With how she snuck out the doors we'd say he had no clue she left and took some of his belongings.
Harry is back to his old ways. Dominating the female race one lass at a time. We think you might have met your match. Oh Harold, what have you got yourself into?
Of course they caught me. Why wouldn't they? I mean, I slept with a member of 'The Modern Day Beatles', as some people call them. Sure they didn't get my face, but they would if I kept being careless about stuff like that.
"Hey ya slag!" Ronnie, one of my best friends shouted as she burst in my flat.
With a wave thrown behind me, I kept my eyes on my laptop screen. She hopped over the back of the couch and plopped down beside me. She took one look at the screen and chuckled.
"How was it?"
"How was what?" I looked at her with furrowed brows. She pointed to the screen of my laptop. "Shagging the Harry Styles!"
I gaped at her. "How did you--"
She cut me off. "I'd know those legs anywhere. They're bird legs!"
"Oi!" I slapped her shoulder making her laugh loudly. "That isn't funny, you bitch!"
We went quiet for a couple minutes just reading over the comments on the online article. Then she had to open her big mouth. "Plus, you texted me last night saying, and I quote 'Harry fucking Styles is gonna stick his dick in me tonight'," she spoke up.
At her words, I busted out laughing. I would send her that. Yep. That was me. Spencer Faust at her best. Fist up in the air Spencer, show you're proud.
"My exact reaction," she laughed.
Ronnie had her arm linked with mine as we walked down the busy sidewalk. We would get dirty looks for our obnoxious ways and vulgar mouths. One woman even told us to watch our mouths around her kid...who looked to be eleven. If that kid hasn't heard a curse word by now, then he's lead a sheltered life thus far. Hell, he probably cursed around his friends more then we did on a daily basis!
"Can you at least tell me how big he is?!" She all but screamed. I snorted as some old lady glared at her to which she responded to the old hag with a flip of her middle finger.
"He's pretty well endowed," I replied with a smirk. She smirked right back. "Oh sweet baby Jesus! Wish I could get a taste of that!"
"Knowing him, you probably could," I stated, sipping my milkshake. "I didn't even know him ten hours before he got me drunk and banged my brains out."
"Maybe I'll meet him and he'll bang my brains out right there on the spot," she spoke, daydreaming a little. We continued to walk down the sidewalks of London, chatting about this and that and slowing sipping our milkshakes. After a good half hour of walking we came across this big group of screeching girls in Trafalgar Square. Over the girls, I could faintly hear the sound of a guitar and singing.
Our nosyness got the best of us and Ronnie and I rudely pushed our way through the crowd. A few 'almost cat fights' later and we were right at the front of the crowd. A few men in all black stood a few feet in front of the crowd with their bulging arms crossed and their legs planted firmly on the ground. Bodyguards. Now what famous tosser would be out in the middle of the busiest tourist sight in London in the middle of the day? A mental one, that's who!
"Oh. My. God," Ronnie spoke slowly. Without asking her what, she answered. "Harry fucking Styles and the rest of One Direction are standing a few meters in front of us singing their sexy little hearts out."
What?! My eyes moved past the bodyguards and zeroed in on the five boys who were indeed singing their sexy little hearts out. One Direction was singing and here I was, front and center the night after Harry banged my brains out. Let's slowly turn around and walk away. As I nudged Ronnie and started turning around, my eyes caught Harry's. Fuck a duck! He kept singing a bubblegum pop song of theirs with a smirk.
"He's totally eye fucking you right now," Ronnie whispered in my ear. Without another word, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the crowd and into the nearest building which just so happened to be the store, Hollister. Totally not my style... at all.
We made our way to the back of the store and looked around with scowls on our faces, trying to make ourselves disappear. My phone rang and Grimmy's ugly mug popped up on the screen.
"Hey Grim," I greeted.
"Hey cupcake! How're you today?" He greeted back.
I shrugged. "Eh. I could be better. You?"
"Pretty bloody amazing. Just got off the phone with Harry a few hours ago.
Shit. "And how is he? Good I hope."
"Oh pretty good. Told me about the other night, you slag!"
"Oi! It's Miss Slag to you!" I exclaimed, gaining the attention of other shoppers. "What'd you want Grim? For real."
"Well, to tell you that in a few days your challange is up. The lads said they'll come by the club and hear it. I'm coming too."
Oh yes, our little challange. I would actually have the remix finished tonight. But he didn't need to know that. I wanted him to think I was having trouble with it. "Has it really almost been a week?" I asked with a sigh. "I didn't realize it."
He chuckled. "That it has! Better get to work, love!"
With a roll of my eyes, I said, "Sir, yes sir! I gotta go, Grim. My mate Ronnie is gonna get us kicked out of Hollister."
"Okie doke. Bye cupcake."
"Ron!" I hollered. She stepped away from the table of outragously bright colored shirts and looked at me with a grimace on her face. "We gotta go back to mine so I can finish that mix and pick me out an outfit for the club."
A grin took over her face. "Yes! Dressing you up is my favorite!"
"Hey Mr. Fossil, Mr. Faust! What's crack-a-lackin and booty smackin'?" Ronnie greeted loudly.
My Dad, Connor Faust, rolled his eyes and dropped down beside me, loosening his tie. My Pops, Maxwell Fossil, made his appearance in the living room with a bottle of Brandy and a cup filled with ice. We had raided their townhouse and made ourselves at home. Not that we were unwanted, but every now and then we decided to drop in and remind them that they had a daughter -me- and adopted daughter -Ronnie- that loved them and drove them nuts.
Ronnie has been my friend since we moved to London. She was over at my house more then she was at her own. Her mum and dad didn't mind though. They had five other kids to deal with, so losing one for a while was kind of like a weight off their shoulders. Dad and Pops figuratively adopted her. In their eyes, she was just another daughter. In her eyes, they were just another set of parents.
"Don't call me Mr," Dad spoke. "It makes me feel old."
Pops snorted. "You are almost fifty."
"Oi! You are too!" Dad shot back. That made Pops frown and poor more Brandy into his cup. They were both fourty five, but didn't look it or act it. I often got told that they were DILFs. I often responded with gagging and/or slapping said person.
"Hi Dad, hi Pops," I greeted. They both said their hello's back and asked how I'd been. That question made me and Ronnie smirk. "What's with those smirks?" Pops questioned.
"Oh nothing," I replied. "Just that I might have possibly slept with a member of a popular boy band."
"When? Who?" Dad and Pops asked together. They looked like little school girls getting all giddy about their newest crush texting them.
Ronnie nodded at me, letting me know I should just come out and say it. So I did. "The other night with Harry Styles from One Direction."
"What?!" They exclaimed. "Nuh uh!"
I nodded, whipping my phone out. "Look at the pictures!" And I showed them the pictures. The one of Harry sleeping and the one of the message I left on the mirror.
Ronnie grinned at the pictures. She hasn't seen them until just now. So she was ecstatic. "The highest of fives mate!" She held out her hand so I high fived her with a laugh. Nerd alert!
"That deserves a few drinks!" Of course it does, Dad. Of course it does.
Walk of shame, dear lass? We think so! We have eyes everywhere, love. You can't hide from us.
Although we didn't get a good look at her face, we got a good look at what she was wearing. One of Harry's jumpers and beanies! And sunglasses! She's just a sly little girl. With how she snuck out the doors we'd say he had no clue she left and took some of his belongings.
Harry is back to his old ways. Dominating the female race one lass at a time. We think you might have met your match. Oh Harold, what have you got yourself into?
Of course they caught me. Why wouldn't they? I mean, I slept with a member of 'The Modern Day Beatles', as some people call them. Sure they didn't get my face, but they would if I kept being careless about stuff like that.
"Hey ya slag!" Ronnie, one of my best friends shouted as she burst in my flat.
With a wave thrown behind me, I kept my eyes on my laptop screen. She hopped over the back of the couch and plopped down beside me. She took one look at the screen and chuckled.
"How was it?"
"How was what?" I looked at her with furrowed brows. She pointed to the screen of my laptop. "Shagging the Harry Styles!"
I gaped at her. "How did you--"
She cut me off. "I'd know those legs anywhere. They're bird legs!"
"Oi!" I slapped her shoulder making her laugh loudly. "That isn't funny, you bitch!"
We went quiet for a couple minutes just reading over the comments on the online article. Then she had to open her big mouth. "Plus, you texted me last night saying, and I quote 'Harry fucking Styles is gonna stick his dick in me tonight'," she spoke up.
At her words, I busted out laughing. I would send her that. Yep. That was me. Spencer Faust at her best. Fist up in the air Spencer, show you're proud.
"My exact reaction," she laughed.
&&&
Ronnie had her arm linked with mine as we walked down the busy sidewalk. We would get dirty looks for our obnoxious ways and vulgar mouths. One woman even told us to watch our mouths around her kid...who looked to be eleven. If that kid hasn't heard a curse word by now, then he's lead a sheltered life thus far. Hell, he probably cursed around his friends more then we did on a daily basis!
"Can you at least tell me how big he is?!" She all but screamed. I snorted as some old lady glared at her to which she responded to the old hag with a flip of her middle finger.
"He's pretty well endowed," I replied with a smirk. She smirked right back. "Oh sweet baby Jesus! Wish I could get a taste of that!"
"Knowing him, you probably could," I stated, sipping my milkshake. "I didn't even know him ten hours before he got me drunk and banged my brains out."
"Maybe I'll meet him and he'll bang my brains out right there on the spot," she spoke, daydreaming a little. We continued to walk down the sidewalks of London, chatting about this and that and slowing sipping our milkshakes. After a good half hour of walking we came across this big group of screeching girls in Trafalgar Square. Over the girls, I could faintly hear the sound of a guitar and singing.
Our nosyness got the best of us and Ronnie and I rudely pushed our way through the crowd. A few 'almost cat fights' later and we were right at the front of the crowd. A few men in all black stood a few feet in front of the crowd with their bulging arms crossed and their legs planted firmly on the ground. Bodyguards. Now what famous tosser would be out in the middle of the busiest tourist sight in London in the middle of the day? A mental one, that's who!
"Oh. My. God," Ronnie spoke slowly. Without asking her what, she answered. "Harry fucking Styles and the rest of One Direction are standing a few meters in front of us singing their sexy little hearts out."
What?! My eyes moved past the bodyguards and zeroed in on the five boys who were indeed singing their sexy little hearts out. One Direction was singing and here I was, front and center the night after Harry banged my brains out. Let's slowly turn around and walk away. As I nudged Ronnie and started turning around, my eyes caught Harry's. Fuck a duck! He kept singing a bubblegum pop song of theirs with a smirk.
"He's totally eye fucking you right now," Ronnie whispered in my ear. Without another word, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the crowd and into the nearest building which just so happened to be the store, Hollister. Totally not my style... at all.
We made our way to the back of the store and looked around with scowls on our faces, trying to make ourselves disappear. My phone rang and Grimmy's ugly mug popped up on the screen.
"Hey Grim," I greeted.
"Hey cupcake! How're you today?" He greeted back.
I shrugged. "Eh. I could be better. You?"
"Pretty bloody amazing. Just got off the phone with Harry a few hours ago.
Shit. "And how is he? Good I hope."
"Oh pretty good. Told me about the other night, you slag!"
"Oi! It's Miss Slag to you!" I exclaimed, gaining the attention of other shoppers. "What'd you want Grim? For real."
"Well, to tell you that in a few days your challange is up. The lads said they'll come by the club and hear it. I'm coming too."
Oh yes, our little challange. I would actually have the remix finished tonight. But he didn't need to know that. I wanted him to think I was having trouble with it. "Has it really almost been a week?" I asked with a sigh. "I didn't realize it."
He chuckled. "That it has! Better get to work, love!"
With a roll of my eyes, I said, "Sir, yes sir! I gotta go, Grim. My mate Ronnie is gonna get us kicked out of Hollister."
"Okie doke. Bye cupcake."
"Ron!" I hollered. She stepped away from the table of outragously bright colored shirts and looked at me with a grimace on her face. "We gotta go back to mine so I can finish that mix and pick me out an outfit for the club."
A grin took over her face. "Yes! Dressing you up is my favorite!"
&&&
"Hey Mr. Fossil, Mr. Faust! What's crack-a-lackin and booty smackin'?" Ronnie greeted loudly.
My Dad, Connor Faust, rolled his eyes and dropped down beside me, loosening his tie. My Pops, Maxwell Fossil, made his appearance in the living room with a bottle of Brandy and a cup filled with ice. We had raided their townhouse and made ourselves at home. Not that we were unwanted, but every now and then we decided to drop in and remind them that they had a daughter -me- and adopted daughter -Ronnie- that loved them and drove them nuts.
Ronnie has been my friend since we moved to London. She was over at my house more then she was at her own. Her mum and dad didn't mind though. They had five other kids to deal with, so losing one for a while was kind of like a weight off their shoulders. Dad and Pops figuratively adopted her. In their eyes, she was just another daughter. In her eyes, they were just another set of parents.
"Don't call me Mr," Dad spoke. "It makes me feel old."
Pops snorted. "You are almost fifty."
"Oi! You are too!" Dad shot back. That made Pops frown and poor more Brandy into his cup. They were both fourty five, but didn't look it or act it. I often got told that they were DILFs. I often responded with gagging and/or slapping said person.
"Hi Dad, hi Pops," I greeted. They both said their hello's back and asked how I'd been. That question made me and Ronnie smirk. "What's with those smirks?" Pops questioned.
"Oh nothing," I replied. "Just that I might have possibly slept with a member of a popular boy band."
"When? Who?" Dad and Pops asked together. They looked like little school girls getting all giddy about their newest crush texting them.
Ronnie nodded at me, letting me know I should just come out and say it. So I did. "The other night with Harry Styles from One Direction."
"What?!" They exclaimed. "Nuh uh!"
I nodded, whipping my phone out. "Look at the pictures!" And I showed them the pictures. The one of Harry sleeping and the one of the message I left on the mirror.
Ronnie grinned at the pictures. She hasn't seen them until just now. So she was ecstatic. "The highest of fives mate!" She held out her hand so I high fived her with a laugh. Nerd alert!
"That deserves a few drinks!" Of course it does, Dad. Of course it does.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry...?