Stylist (book 1) - H.S

Chapter 9: She's Not Afraid.

A/N: alright I literally spent so long editing the picture of her with the TPWK shirt on, if it sucks don't tell me because I'm proud of it so... LISTEN TO THE SONG BABES!

We're in Spain now, a place I have always wanted to go, and here I am, holed up in my hotel room due to never ending stomach pain, and my inability to keep any food down today.

I feel like shit, and I wish I was normal in this moment, normal, not diseased, and without a nagging business partner that never stops asking me questions. I hear the familiar knock on the door and I walk slowly to it with freshly straightened hair and Harry's merch on. I open the door and see him standing there, but my face stays the same as I look to him. He eyes me, raking me up and down and I roll my eyes.

"What?" I ask bitterly, keeping the door slightly closed as he leans against the frame.

"I just wasn't expecting to see you in...this." He looks me up and down again.

"Well if I had known, I would have put pants on, but you always show up unannounced." I throw my hands up, and he shakes his head.

"The lack of pants is not what I was talking about darling." I look down at myself, and realize I'm wearing his merch, and I roll my eyes, moving to close the door in his face, but before I can he has pushed his way in, and left me there.

"Sure Harry,come on it, I'd love some company." I joke, and close the door, walking into my room. I move in behind him, and I cross my arms as he sits on my bed, crossing his ankles in front of him, his hands propping him up from behind.

"I haven't seen you in three days, not since the last show, and you've avoided my calls." He lifts his chin, giving me a serious look.

"I always avoid your calls." I mumble, packing my things, knowing we'll be on a bus after the show tonight to go to Madrid.

"True, but you hardly spoke to me the entire time we were in Germany." He adds, and I look back to him from the floor.

"That is because you tricked me into a date, and I'm still not happy with you about that, therefore you're being ignored. Not that I owe you an explanation anyways, but I haven't been feeling very well the past three days, that's why I have been MIA from all of you." I tell him, sitting on my suitcase to zip it. I really need to stop shopping.

"So you're finally admitting it was a date?" He raises an eyebrow, and smirks at me, his dimple carving deep into his cheek. I glare at him, staying put on top of my suitcase.

"Do you have selective hearing? Why is that the only thing you heard out of all of what I just said?" I ask, throwing my hands up, and stand, bringing my suitcase towards the door.

    "I do have selective hearing, but I did hear what you said. I'm sorry you're sick, and not feeling well, I'd say I'd help, but I know you'd deny my help, and I also don't know how to help, considering you won't tell me what's wrong with you." He argues back, and I walk to the bathroom, getting my things together in there.

    "I'm never going to tell you what's wrong with me, you're going to have to accept that." I shrug my shoulders, and continue packing.

    "I'll find out, sooner or later." He boasts, laying back on the bed.

    "Harry, not to be rude, but can you go away?" I ask, stepping over his long legs, moving to my things.

    "El, not to be rude, but can you chill out." He laughs, and when I turn around I'm greeted by warm hands, and I look up to him as he holds my wrists. "You look beautiful this morning." He mumbles, and I make a gagging noise.