No More Pictures Please {Harry Styles Fanfic}

Chapter 1: Another Date.

No More Pictures Please - Chapter 1: Another date.

~I SWEARS YOU COPY YOU DIE I'LL DROWN YOU (MAYBE) OK~

I changed Tyler to Amber Heard (yeah I know she's kinda old) but she just looked a lot more like I imagined her.

____________________

I wake up, groggy as ever, bright lights flooding in and the window, seeing as I never close the curtains, was most likely the culprit. Why do mornings hate me so much?

I roll over and ever so elegantly fall off the bed, causing a loud thump to shake the floor. The sheets spill atop me, covering my whole body. I heard the door click as well as light and dainty foot steps.

"Miss Jones? Miss Jones are you alright?" It was the frantic call of Edith, our head maid, or I guess, my old nanny. I'd heard her scolding me and shouting enough times to recognize that voice of hers. "I'm fine," I attempted to reassure the distressed woman, but she probably couldn't hear a thing when the noise was muffled under the sheets. I hated how all the workers in the house (I refused to call them servants) called me Miss Jones instead of just my name, Tyler. When I was younger I hated that name, I sounded like a boy.

Scrambling my way out from under the sheets I repeated myself. "I'm fine. Just fell out of bed is all." The older woman nodded, sporting a concerned expression, and sauntered out, shutting the door softly behind her.

I stood, and tripped on my tangled sheets, nearly falling to the floor again, but managing to grab the headboard before I did.

I balanced myself, took a deep breath, trudged through the door that led to my bathroom, then grabbed hold of the sink before I tripped and fell on nothing again, wincing when I saw myself in the mirror. Purplish bags under my eyes that made the blue irises stand out even more, and blonde hair that surely could belong in a cage with another ferocious animal.

I made several weak attempts to untangle the knots, but seeing as I would not win the battle anytime soon, I hopped into the shower, sitting under the hot water a bit before getting up and cleaning myself.

The shower was the one thing I approved my parents super-sizing. They super-sized everything.

My parents. Those idiots.

It wasn't that I didn't love my parents, well, maybe more or less it was that exactly. They didn't care for me really, simply buying things I wanted, throwing extravagant birthday parties, but they were never there. My mom was my manager, so I saw her more often than dad.

The closest thing I had to a real mom was Edith, she was more of a grandmother, but she cared about me.

Another 'favor' my parents did for me, setting me up on dates.

Any boy involved in the media in any way, shape or form, approximately my age and sometimes older, was eligible to be on my date list. They picked a boy, a location, and told the boy roughly what to do and what they'd expect. I never had a clue who it was, my parents never told me. Ruined the surprise I suppose. They were in love with the image I created for myself, the "hard-to-get talented princess, waiting for her Prince Charming" as my mom called it. They were also fine if I decided to have a solid relationship one day.

I usually didn't like the boys they set me up with, as they were all handsome, and they all knew they were famous, so they were always cocky and arrogant, trying to show off to me. It was fun watching their self-esteem sink slowly as I insulted them, and scolded them for things they did that irked me, talking back if they tried to argue.

In fact, I think I had a breakfast date this morning.

Crap.

I waltzed out of the shower, gracefully dried myself, and picked up the brush in hopes that wet hair would be easier to brush through. By gracefully I mean I tripped over the towel. Apparently I was accident prone.