Love to Hate You (A Harry Styles Love Story)

Chapter 7 - Virtually

A/N: Hey, guys. So remember I mentioned two people from Holmes Chapel in Chapter 1? You actually don't have to reread that part if you don't remember, but still... 

Thank you for reading and voting! << See what I just did there? I pressured you into voting, if you haven't already. ^.^ 

Oh, and a HUGE thank you to @xibeliebin1Dx aka Rida for putting LTHY in her fanfic recommendations :D 

ONWARD IN READING, MY LOVES :)

- Autumn's Point of View- 

 Oh my gosh. Everyone’s so pretty.

 I mentally slapped myself for being so vain back home, thinking that I looked really nice, then coming here and feeling like road kill. Everyone was so perfect looking, like a piece of artwork. I had a feeling Harry’s hand was going to fall off at one point, because I kept squeezing it like no tomorrow every time someone famous-looking walked by, which was about every five seconds.

 “You alright?” he whispered in my ear, trying to slowly pull his hand out of my grip without anyone noticing.

 I wouldn’t budge. No way in hell was I leaving his side, the first reason being that I didn’t know anyone else here besides him and the boys, and the second being that I wouldn’t put it past him to ditch me, the idiot.

 “Define alright,” I mumbled, trying to act normal but still staring at everyone, wide eyed.

 “Who’s that?” I asked, motioning toward someone.

 “Avan Jogia.” he replied.

 “And that?”

 “Miley Cyrus.”

 “And that?”

 “That, my dear, is a waiter.”

 He laughed quietly as I glared at the floor. It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t know that many celebrities. Okay, maybe it was. I just didn’t keep up with today’s people or media.

 Everyone was surprisingly pretty quiet in the main party room, except for in the game room, which was through the other door. I had expected more of a ‘party like a rockstar’ sort of jig, considering this was young hollywood we were talking about. Well, everyone was classy looking and sounding, except for...

 “HAROLD, MY LOVE!” Louis yelled, getting weird looks from people and and making his date blush as he walked toward us.

 No one scolded him or anything, though. He was Louis Tomlinson, after all.

 “Boo bear,” Harry said quietly, looking around to make sure no one was looking.

 Louis held his heart and gasped, “My mother is the only one permitted to call me that, Harold.”

 Harry shrugged, smirking, “What’re you going to do about it? Sit on me?”

 Louis stuck his tongue out at the other boy for a moment, then had a big, evil grin on his face.

 “You don’t want to play dirty with me, do you, Curly?”

 Before Harry could retort at his best friend, his date politely cut in and held her hand out to me, “I’m Eleanor. You must be Autumn?”

 I already knew who she was, considering the entire world had been revolving around One Direction since the beginning of 2012, but how did she know who I was?