I wake up for the second time this week with a hangover. I try to re position myself but I'm acutely aware of a body behind mine, and an large arm draped over my small body, head curled into my neck. I haven't opened my eyes yet, so I assume I'm still dreaming. I'm with him and he's so warm. His scent is washing over me over and over, and then I realise that's not what he smells like.

I sit up so sharply, that my tattoo burns below me, and I yell out in pain. My eyes now open, I see that Harry Styles is in my bed. His face is towards me, soft breaths coming from his pink lips. His curls are all over the pillow, like seaweed. I'm aware of how attractive he looks, but I have to leave it.

We're both fully clothed, but I can't remember a thing after the kiss dare, so I don't know how we ended up here together. He didn't wake up at my yell, and I'm glad so I can get away.

I step out of my white sheets, and step over a Zayn Malik who is laid on his back, snoring peacefully. He doesn't look very comfortable, so I grab the pillow that was mine, and gently raise his head and place it under. He sniffs loudly, and just turns into the pillow, seemingly at peace.

My room strongly smells of smoke, and I blanch, thinking of how angry Michael will be that we smoked in our house. I respected his wishes usually, so I don't know how we got away with it.

I get to my drawers, and grab a new pair of boxers, top and jeans because I'm going to shower. I smell of smoke, and God knows what else, and it's making me want to hurl.

Upon opening the door, I can see Michael's figure just outside on the floor. He didn't make it to his room it seems, but it looks like he's collapsed coming out of mine. I smile and step over him. It's only 8:30am, and he looks like he needs the sleep so I don't wake him.

I take longer than usual in the shower, scrubbing myself head to toe with my orange shower gel, and washing my hair with my strawberry shampoo and conditioner. It made me smell like a fruit salad, but that didn't bother me. I didn't wear my cologne anymore, so it wouldn't make me smell like a whores handbag.

I towel dry my hair, whilst brushing my teeth, and immediately dress into my Rolling Stones tshirt and light blue jeans. I brush my hair into it's usual messy do, and leave the bathroom to go and clean downstairs.

It was a tip. I'm wishing I'd woken up after Michael now. It was a thing of ours, that whoever woke up first would clean the morning after. I sigh, and get the black bin bags ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm halfway through cleaning the garden when I hear the backdoor open with a squeak. I look up and see Harry's tall figure, and I jump a little. I really don't want to discuss the fact he was in my bed, or the fact that we had kissed, and my heart is racing.

"You want any help?" He offers, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I run my hand through my now damp hair.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." I reply, awkwardly. He just starts picking up cans, bottles and paper plates and walking to and fro from the black bag.

"Erm. So how did I end up in your bed?" He asks me after a while, as he bends down to pick up a can. My eyes meet his, and my cheeks are going red. I shrug.

"I can't remember anything after truth and dare," I tell the truth. His eyebrows furrow, but he believes me.

"Yeah, me neither. I don't know who suggested more drinks." He says. "Probably Niall."

I smile.

"Yeah, probably."

I jump as a loud ringtone is sent across the garden, and I look at Harry who is reaching into his back pocket. He looks at the caller ID, and his face is filled with confusion. He walks away as he answers.

"Hi? Yeah, I can talk." He says, green eyes darting to me and away again. "What? I'm sorry- what? It was a dare." He's now fully looking at me, and I know this phone call is about last night. "Why? And him? Why?" He lets a large groan from his mouth, whilst kicking tuft of grass in anger. "Okay. Bye." He's looking down whilst he puts his phone back in his pocket.

He sighs loudly, and then puts his hands in his front pockets. He looks up at me, and it's like he doesn't like what he sees. It makes me feel loathed, and it makes me feel like I've been feeling these last six months all at once.

"Management wants to see me and you. We have ten minutes until we're getting picked up. Hurry and make sure you're ready." He snaps, and I don't really understand what I've done wrong.

"And do I have a say in this?" I snap back, ready for an argument. "I might actually have things to do today."

"Shut up, I don't have time for your shit." He says, and points at me. I flinch from the anger in his eyes, and huff an annoyed breath.

I don't respond. I know when not to argue back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We reach a tall metallic building, that I don't recognise. The bloke in the car tells us he will be waiting, and Harry politely thanks him. So you can be polite.

Harry leads the way, knowing where he is going. He doesn't slow down for my smaller legs, but I keep close.

He's tapping his foot impatiently waiting for the lift, and it's setting me on edge. Why is he so nervous? And why is he nervous of his own management? If I knew him better, I would ask. But I didn't dare now.

We reach the 23rd floor, and the long hallway is painted cream, and the carpet tiles are grey with flecks of black and white. We walk down the long hall until we reach a plain grey door, with a number 20, and Harry lets out a huge sigh before knocking. It's as if he hasn't been breathing the whole time.

"Come in." A deep voice calls, and Harry turns the silver knob and opens it up.

The room is surprisingly large, with only two tables inside. One with four people already sat, facing another table the same size with currently two seats. One for each of us, I think. The decor is the same as the hall, and it gives off a professional feel.

Harry is moving to sit, but I stay by the door, not knowing what the hell to do. I'm as stiff as a board, and I don't even know why I'm here.

"You can sit, dear." A female voice says, and I look up meeting a pair of blue eyes, in an older ladies face. She has a wisp of white hair and large red earrings. She reminded me of Pat Butcher from Eastenders. She is gesturing next to where Harry is sat, who is looking at me impatiently.

I sit down, moving my chair a little from Harry, not comfortable with how close we actually are. The ladies eye flicker at the space in between us, and back to both of us.

"Cut to the chase, I don't want to be here." Harry rudely addresses the strangers.

"Right." The one of the men speaks. He has dark brown hair and dark eyes, eyes which are meeting mine. "To fill you in, a paparazzi took a picture of you and Mr Styles kissing last night, and Twitter has been going crazy about this mystery boy." He frowns at the end when he says "boy". Fuck.

"I'm so sorry. It was only a dare, it won't happen again." I apologize twiddling my thumbs, surely making it all better. It wouldn't happen again.

"It's not good enough. Harry messes around with girls too much as it is and it's affecting his public image. It's time you 'settled down' Mr Styles. And if you're kidding boys-," He scolds the man beside me, who looks livid. Why are they only addressing him by his second name?

"Do you mean Harry?" I speak for him, not liking the way he was being talked to. "Because his name is Harry." I gesture to him, without really looking. The man in front of me looks at me like I'm something beneath his shoe.

"Mr Styles." He looks at Harry again, after glaring at me. "You know the consequences, because we talked about them not even a week ago." He points a finger at Harry, and he shrinks in his chair. I really feel for him right now. Fame can't be worth this.

"But-" He starts but he's immediately cut off from another gentlemen at the far right. He raises his tanned hand, and meets Harry's green eyes.

"We all agreed the next time this happened, you would have to date for at least a year to get the public's respect." He explains, maybe to me I don't know. Wow, how could these people rule over this poor boys life? Was it in his contract?

"This really isn't fair." Harry sighs in defeat, his voice cracking at the end. I'm incredulous at the scenario before me. I cough to gain attention, and everyone looks at me.

"So, don't mean to be rude, but why am I here?" I sound rude regardless, and the lady smiles at me creepily, full of knowledge.

"Well, obviously you're going to be the one he settles down with." She just shrugs, as if it's the meaning of life. I grip my chair hard, my knuckles going white. I look at Harry but his eyes are trained on the people, eyes wide.

"You what?" I almost shout, and choking on it at the same time, my eyes watering. I am not ready for a relationship, and I haven't had enough time to move on at all. The man at the end of the table looks sympathetically at me, and I don't even care that he cares because I glare at him.

"Look. Mr Tomlinson," He starts, how does he even know my name? "You kissed our client, and it's in his contract that he's to stop it. You're at fault for kissing him, as much as him kissing you. He knows better than that." He looks at Harry. "At least I thought so." He adds in afterthought.

"You can't make me be in a relationship with someone. And neither can you make Harry!" I snap, standing up. Harry looks up at me, green eyes filled with fear, and I don't really understand why at all. He swallows heavily.

"Harry." The female receives his attention as he snaps his head away from me, his curls moving with him. "If you don't get him to sign a contract agreeing to date you for a year, we will drop you from the band." She looks bored, she must break dreams often. I gasp in shock at her.

His eyes look damp now as they look back at me, and my heart aches for this boys dreams. I will never forgive him for this, never.

"Louis." He whispers, and I can almost hear his heart in his deep voice. My resolve is wavering fast; I can't take away his dreams because I know how it felt to want it. "Please. I-I'll pay you, anything. Just, please." He whines, hands in prayer. I look away, because I want to cry at how much I don't want this. But I have to do it, I can't break a heart. I knew how it felt.

"I-I erm." I start and stop because I can't get the words out of my mouth. "Whatever, yes." His eyes light up a little from the agreement, but I know he doesn't want to date me either. "I'm not going to be paid, though. I'm not like that." It made me feel like a whore, but I wasn't going to say that. We wouldn't be having sex, but being paid to date someone felt the same.

"Oh, God Louis." He exhales. "I can't thank you enough." His relief feels like waves against me, but I take no solace. I'm still in hell right now, but I'm not going to break down here. Dating someone who doesn't even love me, or is gay. Hell.

"Where do I sign?" I say, almost in a whisper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We return to my home, after a very long, awkward car journey. We haven't talked to each other the whole way; me not wanting to talk, him surely not knowing what to say.

As the driver pulls up to my drive, I immediately jump of the car slamming the door behind me. I run to the door letting myself in, pushing past a confused Zayn and Michael.

I'm not crying yet, but I'm close. Dangerously close. I can feel the sobs creeping up my chest to my mouth as I open my bedroom door. I'm so glad the room is now empty, I kick the door closed, and it slams so hard, the vibrations echoing around the room. A few things drop off of my desk, but I just don't care.

I let out a strangled yell, as I finally give in. I've not been in this much pain, since Jack. I finally let myself think his name, almost sadistically letting the pain wash over me. I'm a little aware that I'm breaking down, tugging at my hair, crying so hard my body is shaking.