Won't Go (One Direction)

Chapter Three (Part ONE)

*Dedicated to ElegantHuntress for the amazing comments!*

Author's Note:

Hey guys! WOW! Over 80 reads?! That's amazayn! (Sorry for the corny joke...don't judge me...). So, like it says, this is PART ONE. I'm putting PART TWO up right after this one - this chapter was frighteningly long, and would have had terrible "flow" if I put it all as one. So I broke it up! But it still kinda all belongs in the same chapter...you know? Anyways, MASSIVE THANK YOU to everyone, and enjoy!

It didn’t take long for us to make our first escape attempt. The door had a bright red “EXIT” sign over the metal frame. Without a second thought, I turned the knob and pulled it open, letting in the cool London air.

The street appeared deserted for the most part. I motioned with my fingers for Harry to come on out – no one would find us back here; it should have only been an employee entrance.

His curly head at just made it out the door when a car zoomed past us, flinging dirty slush all over my white pants and shoes. Wonderful. The rude driver parked their rusty pick-up truck on the curb, and jumped out.

She looked to be around sixteen or seventeen, probably just got her license. A pair of smooth, black stilettos made their way towards us, as the blonde attached to them began screaming Harry’s name.

Well their goes our dreams of freedom.

We both turned to look at each at the same time, each with a glint in our eyes. “Run” I mouthed to him. Harry nodded, taking off towards the front of the store. I followed behind him, not wanting to take my chances with Miss America and her truck.

Not his smartest plan. Waiting for as at the doors was a group of a hundred or so teenage girls. All screaming.

Without even exchanging a glance this time, we simultaneously turned on our heels, in the direction of the door we came through earlier. That was our only hope of getting out of this situation unscathed.

“Hey! Slow down! I c-can’t run in the-these things!” Stilettos yelled, out of breath. Who knew six-inch-heels were so hard to stalk (oops, I mean walk…) in?

Harry, trying to be the good mega-celebrity he is, answered back sweetly “Sorry Love! I’m feeling a bit queasy today! Maybe later!”

It seemed like days before we made it to the back of the store, safe and sound. We must’ve forgotten to close the door in our hasty escape, because, thankfully, it was slightly ajar – opened just enough for us to get in.

He pushed me inside the still lit-up room first, closing the door behind us once he had entered.

I couldn’t resist. “’A bit queasy’?” I questioned, one eyebrow cocked at him.

One of his hands grabbed his stomach as the other covered his mouth. Pretending like he was about to fall over, Harry walked up until he was right next to me.

“BLEH!” He screamed in my ear. A soft ringing was already forming in the back of my head; whether it was due to Harry just now or the loud fans outside, I wasn’t sure.

He flashed a smile. “I feel better now.”

“Oh really? Because I was totally willing to help take care of you, but since you’re all better…” I trailed off.

Arms wrapped around me as soon as the words left my mouth. “I lied! I feel terrible! It hurts here, here, here, and here!” He insisted as he pointed to random places on his body.

“So I’m pretty sure you just told me your manhood hurts. Did you mean to point there, or what…?”

A blush crept up on his cheeks. “Um. Yeah. It hurts there, too. All these girls around, you know – “