GREEN (RL Harry Styles fanfic)

69. Crimson

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and I feel like I had all of those words shouted at me over the past few days over one damn picture. Anytime I would go in and out of my house I had to maneuver through a swarm of paparazzi at the bottom of my driveway. They'd yell my name, ask questions, throw out nasty comments about Harry and his exes to get a rise out of me, and just generally live up to the sleazy photog stereotype. I had done my best to ignore them and not give them what they wanted. Except for the occasional "you're on private property" or "move or you're going to get run over" I didn't engage them.

Despite the complete annoyance of it all, I could learn to live with it. Eventually no one would want another photo of me driving my car and things would die down. What I would not get used to, and what I had never really expected was the reaction of the fans.

Saturday night, at the Santa Clara show, some of the fans had it out for me. The article about me had come out and the picture of us making out was common knowledge after 48 hours on the Internet. As I walked the floor to my seats, thankfully with security, I was booed and hissed at. I kept my face stoic, not letting it get to me and somewhat understanding of their perspective. The fans loved Harry too, and in their eyes I wasn't good enough for someone they idolized, especially considering what they thought they knew about me. Where it crossed the line was when the first "fan" tossed her drink at me.

A collective "oooooh" rung out from the crowd, but it spurred the courage of some other particularly vile concert-goers. A handful of others began throwing things as well, from drinks to glow sticks and whatever was in reach. Henry, my security escort, did his best to block me after the first drink had been thrown and he took the brunt of it. Henry sent stadium security to escort out those he'd witnessed throwing things before getting me to my seat. All the while he asked if I was okay and apologized, though it wasn't his fault. I assured him I was fine. Still, he radioed for extra security for the section I was in.

I was pissed, but I refused to let them see me sweat. Instead I smiled and owned the situation, something I had done since I was younger. Growing up in a fairly small town I'd get hassled for standing out. I had a different style than the rest of the kids and they'd try to pick on me for it. I came back at them with sarcastic comments and humor instead of getting upset. I discovered early on that being myself was easy, so why would I want to try hard to fit in? In the end it's that personal style that made me successful in my career. Fans were going to talk about what had just happened, so I might as well beat them to the punch. I pulled out my phone and took a selfie of my beer soaked hair and outfit to post to Instagram.

Thanks for the hospitality Santa Clara. Really appreciate the free beer. ✌🏼️🍺😘 #SharingIsCaring #AllTheLove

As soon as I posted the pic I knew my Instagram would blow up, so I slid my phone in my jacket pocket to avoid temptation. As an iPhone addict, I was learning it was really hard to do. Not even a minute later my phone buzzed in my pocket with a text.

Everything okay babe? I saw your photo and now I'm hearing stuff got thrown at you.

I giggled at first, knowing Harry must've had notifications on for me. My next response was to text him back so he wouldn't worry.

Yeah, but I'm fine. I just smell like a bar floor. It's kind of like when we met ;)

Stop being cute when I'm worried about you. Are you sure you're alright? I'm really sorry babe. You can watch from side stage instead.

Really, I'm okay baby. I'll stay put to avoid walking through the crowd again though. Henry called for extra security. Don't worry about me, just have a good show.