Boyfriend/Girlfriend

“WHAT THE HECK DO YOU WEAR TO YOUR BOYFRIEND’S SIGNING?!” I scream in total frustration. Dating a member of an extremely popular British boy-band doesn’t come with an instruction manual.

“You said ‘boyfriend’,” Drew, who misses nothing, points out. “So are you two official, now? Did he say that you are his girlfriend?”

I feel like banging my head against the wall. “I just sorta assumed. Now help me pick out an outfit.”  As if Drew could ever let go of it now…

“Don’t even try to change the topic, Missy!” she says while searching threw the pile of clothes that was building on my bed. “That one says cute but I don’t think its ‘signing’ material,” she says while gesturing to the shirt that I tried on. She thinks for a moment, then holds up a dress. “This one.”

I slip on the dress she chose and know right away it’s perfect. It is grey and strapless with cream flowers and a sweetheart neckline. I brush out my long, wavy, black hair until its shiny and detangled (at least for now).

“Ready?” Drew asks when I finish applying makeup. I nod my head.

 

All the breath escapes me when I see Harry. I still can’t believe that this is happening. He is talking to some reporters from a radio station. It’s weird to think that there is a famous band in Uxbridge. No one has ever heard of Uxbridge.

I don’t want to interrupt, so I hang back as Drew rushes to the band. Harry finally spots me and heads toward where I’m standing, in the outskirts, without saying a word to the reporters.

 “So you made it,” he says with a cocky grin. He leans down and kisses me.

When we come up for air I scramble for a clever response. All I come up with is, “Yep.”

The reporters swarm us, wondering who I am. Harry puts his arm around my shoulders and answers without a doubt, “My girlfriend, Ari.”

A smile spreads across my face. I hear Drew in the distance squealing, “Now you’re official!”

“How long have you been dating?” A reporter with a hot pink blouse asks.

“Not very long.”

  Harry tells them that we have to go because It’s almost time for the line to start moving. He guides me away from the press who are still yelling, “One last question!” after us.

“Is that okay?” He whispers worriedly into my ear as we reach the signing table. “That I said you were my girlfriend?”

  “Yeah,” I say slightly in awe of what just happened. I quickly try to regain my composure. “I just didn’t know that we were boyfriend/girlfriend yet.” He smiles and I can see the relief in his green eyes.

In the next few hours Harry signs everything form printout pictures to carrots. One girl even handed him her bra and asked if he could sign it. He smirked at me and picked up the permanent marker.

“Sure. What’s you’re name.” he then went into a fairly long discussion with the girl about his hair is naturally that curly while I glowered. “This is my girlfriend,” he tells the girl while pulling me close. She gives me and envious look and continues down the line.

“What was that?” I ask when she’s gone.

“What was what?” he fakes confusion.

“You signed some girls bra.”

“Oh that.” He smiles. “It was nothing. Why, were you jealous?”

“Yeah right.” I say to the floor. But the truth is I was jealous and he knows it. Why would he do something like that with me standing right here? Why would he do something like that period?

 He just laughs and captures my mouth with his. He pulls me even closer and holds me there. I’m vaguely aware of camera’s flashing and a few girls bursting into tears as their dreams of dating Harry are crushed.

He pulls away and I can see that most of the crowd looks happy still. Good. I don’t think I could stand being hated by that many people.

After the kiss, the signing goes on. Now that all of them know that Harry and I are together, I am asked to sign things too. “Uhhh, sure,” I say, flustered as a girl from my school asks me to sign her t-shirt. She is one of the popular girls who don’t even acknowledge my existence. Or didn’t.

Harry senses my awkwardness and whispers in my ear, “You’re doing great

The next girl hands him a Nerf gun. A wicked smile crosses his face and he shoots me. The suction cup sticks to my nose so I look like Pinocchio. I laugh and try to grab the gun out of his hands. He holds it up over his head. I have to jump on his back to get it.

I snatch it away and hold it up, victorious. “I let you get it,” he mutters.

Reviews

[afra]

wowwww i love it so much ...need moree

[Sophie]

mooore!!!

[Amanda]

Lovely, can't wait for more :D