The Bachelor - H.S.

Chapter 1

My feet bounce up and down against the bright red carpet of the limo floor. It seems everyone in the car is shaking with nerves except for me. I push my hair over to rest on one shoulder and try to look out the window, but find it's too tinted to really be of good use. Instead, I elect to look around the vehicle I'm currently seated in.

There are 5 girls with me. They introduced themselves half an hour ago, but I can't remember most of their names now. There's a blonde called Karen- I'm sure that's her name. She sports bright makeup that makes her hard to miss, and I'm not entirely sure if it's in a good way-

-Damn it! I told myself I wouldn't do this. I'm not going to start judging the other girls. It's not fair to them, and I don't want to be that person.

I keep looking around.

I gaze upon a brunette. I scan her face quickly and remember her name is Ashley, or maybe Allison? Her face isn't why I remember her name, though. The red dress she wears is ill-fitting, too long down towards the bottom and too loose around the top-

-Fuck!

I shake my head discreetly and decide to stare down at my feet, hoping to avoid the risk of thinking something negative about another girl. Maybe I can try to convince myself that I'm not a bad person.

My toes are perfectly manicured thanks to the kind woman who's beauty parlour, sandwiched between a deli and a pharmacy, resides half a block from my apartment. My toes peak out from under black stilettos that are tall enough to give me the illusion of long legs, and to disguise my real, embarrassingly short height. Our bachelor is supposedly 6 feet tall. Oh god- the bachelor. My mind drifts back to him again.

Harry is his name, I think. Harry... Styles! That's it: Harry Styles. I know that he's in a band- I looked it up- a group called White Eskimo, and that he's from England. I've never heard of him before, but apparently he's pretty successful. I wonder how he wound up on the Bachelor. I guess now I have a conversation topic for tonight.

I take another deep breath. When I looked Harry up, his band wasn't the first thing I noticed. I saw a picture of him and my breath was nearly taken away. In that moment all I could think about was how lucky I was. Although, probably not in the way you'd expect.

When signing up to be on 'The Bachelor', it's not exactly clear who's love you're going to be competing for. To find out that the guy is attractive, and I mean extremely attractive, is nice. It sounds crazy- who in their right mind would actually sign up for a show like that? Well, the answer is me. Ok, maybe the answer isn't me, it's drunk me. I guess it's fair to say the pedicurist down the street knows my name because my friends and I got drunk and just happened to see a link to sign up.

Dares are always fun, aren't they?

Apparently we aren't complete boneheads when we're intoxicated. Together, we filled out the application form well enough that I got an acceptance email before I could even get over my hangover.

That doesn't paint me in the best light, does it? Well, I'm just trying to be honest. The honest ones on the show always make it the furthest- at least that's what I've always heard.

That doesn't make me sound good either. Oh, well. I swear I'm a good person, I really am, but I'm not stupid enough to think that this show actually works. No, I don't believe in that sort of stuff. However, if there's a guy as good-looking as Harry- um, wait, I've got this... Aha! -Styles... I sure as hell am not going to say no.

Ahh, The Bachelor. I'm not ashamed to admit I've watched it in my spare time. 25 women competing for one (occasionally) absurdly handsome man's 'love', and the chances for all their dreams to come true. There's date cards and group dates. Elimination ceremonies and house 'drama'. I can't wait!