𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄, harry styles

sixteen ! irl

3:42 a.m., gucci afterparty, new york city

      for someone who's been heavily accustomed to bustling parties and endless rounds of champagne, sadie kirk only wanted to go home, but at three in the morning, at such a lavish upper east side building situated in the middle of the city that never sleeps, going home would be the last thing you'd think of doing. though sadie is practically yearning for the warmth and comfort of her bed, she's stuck, chatting with other celebrities, models, and influencers surrounding her. not to mention, she can't exactly act like she's disinterested with such a glamorous event, and the amount of cameras flashing and phones recording only furthers the limitations of her movements—it feels as if at any moment, her name would be displayed all over the tabloids, and as if it isn't already, her reputation would slowly change from being the 'it girl' of the fashion industry to the 'girl who kissed harry styles and shockingly regretted it.'

     the mere thought of having to deal with the swarm of questions from the paparazzi about a certain british musician only makes her head throb, she isn't the least bit of amused as to how the media has perceived as some sort of 'ungrateful yet successful fangirl.' in her defense, she didn't remember much of what had happened when they kissed—it was clearly a drunken mistake from both ends, and she didn't dig in deep with the meaning of their intimate encounter. instead, she's trying her utmost best to completely forget about it. the damage to her image has been done, and she couldn't do anything about it.

    "having fun?" sadie snaps out of her thoughts when she hears a dreadfully familiar voice, laced with a thick english accent. gladly, she was standing outside the terrace, high enough to be unrecognizable by the paparazzi impatiently awaiting to bombard celebrities with unnecessary remarks. she rolls her eyes, downing the drinks of her champagne glass before looking up at the man slightly towering over her shorter frame.

    "harry styles," she slurs slightly but keeps her voice and tone firm, "are you here to mock me for the hundredth time?"

  
    "funny, i actually want to talk," harry chuckles with ease, drinking his glass of scotch while looking away at the busy streets of new york, "you do know, you kissed me, right?"

   "i was drunk, harry." sadie takes another long sip of her bubbling drink, letting its contents run down her throat smoothly, "i'm sorry, okay?"

    "don't be," harry shakes his head, slightly looking at sadie's unfazed state. he notices a piece of her raven strand fall loosely in front of her face, and without any sort of hesitation, he tucks it behind her ear, and allows his tatted fingers to slightly graze against the warmth of her soft and reddish cheeks. his gaze eventually lands on her cherry coated lips, admittedly enticed by how plump it looked, especially under the soft moonlight. he turns away immediately, finishing the remaining contents of his glass. he clears his throat, "i should be going home."

   his body heat disperses into thin air, and is replaced by the cool wind of the night. sadie releases a sigh she doesn't realize she was containing. she doesn't know if the champagne is starting to kick in her system but for some reason, she craves for his warm touch. she'd be lying if she didn't feel an electrifying jolt surge throughout her body—god, she hated harry but what she hates more is the fact that she'd love for them to kiss once again.