I run faster and faster. He's going to catch me. I let out a very girly squeal as I feel two sets of arms grab me slowing me to a halt. "That is not fair!" I scream at the curly haired boy. He just chuckles letting go of me. "Yes it was. You never said I couldn't use other people." He shrugs. "It was implied. And he's training for the Olympics." "You're training." He states simply flipping his hair out of his eyes. "C'mon, we're going to be late." He grabs my wrist and starts pulling me down the street. "I really don't want to go." I whine while his grip doesn't falter but possibly gets tighter. "You really don't have a choice." He mumbles. "Since when have you cared about being punctual?" He's always the late one. "Since your job depends on it." And he's right. Maybe I should back up. I am Harry Styles' personal bodyguard. That doesn't really clear it up, does it? Well, this is what happened...