Jolly Holiday

Shelbie was a fashion designer. Very low key, living in upper Manhattan with her junkie brother. Then she got her big break. And that big break, went by One Direction.


4. Drunk

I was drunk. Completely and utterly snockered. Liam and I had come to the bar to talk and become friendly, but we had actually ended up drinking our weight in Tequila shots. It had initially started out nice. We each ordered a martini and were just there to get to know each other.

I was all for leaving once I got a good ole buzz going.

Then Louis and Eleanor joined us. They hadn't known we were coming to the bar. How could they? We had kind of been trying to keep it quiet, seeing as someone would certainly think it was a "date".

Louis was the one who ordered the Tequila. I wanted to refuse, I really did. But when they started up a game of Never Have I Ever, it was just too difficult to turn it down.

"We should Karaoke!" Eleanor yelled in her stupor. I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I couldn't tell you why though. It wasn't meant to be funny.

Open mic night was something I generally tried to avoid when going to bars. It was nothing but a bunch of buzzed college kids trying their best to annoy each other. I could see how this could be fun, though, so I agreed.

"Do it!" Louis yelled across the bar to Liam, "And take your ladyfriend with you!"

"She's not my ladyfriend!" he called back. I couldn't resist though. I grabbed Liam's hand, yanking him up on stage, handing him on of the two microphones that were resting on the edge of the stage.

"Are you up for a challenge?" I cackled.

"Give it your best shot!" he called back over the buzz of the music and the multitude of college kids who felt the need to scream about every freaking thing.

I thumbed through the songs in the book titled DUETS, landing on one that made my face light up. I could see Liam's face drop out of the corner of my eye, "NO." he said firmly, "Absolutely not."

"Come on; it'll be fun!" I assured as the music began to play.

He rolled his eyes and went along with it, as the first verse popped up on the screen and he began to sing in that pitch-perfect voice of his.

"Summer Lovin' had me a blast"

I frantically motioned to Eleanor and Louis who joined us up on the tiny stage. The four of us tripped all over one another as we tried to get situated.

"Summer Lovin' happened so fast

Met a girl crazy for me

Met a boy sweet as could be

Summer Dreams driftin' away"

I almost burst out laughing as Louis appeared over my shoulder, screaming the lyrics into the microphone, "Tell me more, TELL ME MORE, DID YOU GET VERY FAR?!"

Then Eleanor, "Tell me more, tell me more, like, does he have a car?!"

We were totally having a Glee moment. And that was totally okay, because if just for a moment, the entire world melted away. We weren't two pop stars, a girlfriend, and a stylist on this stage. Here, we were just four friends (Yes, FRIENDS.) goofing off and having a blast.

The song came to a finish all too soon though. As soon as it was over, I became painfully aware of the lack of space between Liam and me. The bar was all-eyes on us. We got a standing ovation (certainly not for our skill, but I'm sure the attempt was appreciated).

I'm not sure of much of what happened after that. I just remember stumbling out of the bar, arm-in-arm with Liam, trying to keep one another from falling over. We collapsed in my hotel room (since it was the closest) somewhere around two or three and I completely blacked out.


My cell phone went off at six o'clock that next morning. I wanted to smash it against the wall. My head felt like it was being jack hammered. On the one day I didn't have Advil. Go freaking figure.

I went about my normal routine of getting ready, trying to pay as little attention as possible to the throbbing in my head. I knew as soon as I got some caffeine in my system, I would be fine. I was in the middle of redressing, standing over top of my suitcase in my bra trying to decide what I was going to wear today, when a snore caught my attention.

My thought process came to a screeching hault when a mop of brown (blond?) hair appeared from underneath my covers. Oh. No. "What time is it?" Liam asked, as if it was no big deal.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed, my eyes growing huge in horror. I hastily grabbed whatever was on top of my suitcase, trying to cover as much of my body as possible. This was so wrong at so many levels.

"I'm offended," he muttered, rolling out of bed himself, "You don't remember that wild sex we had last night?"

"WHAT?!" I shrieked in horror, making my head throb. I'm sure it didn't do much for him either. Or the other 600 some-odd guests in the hotel for that matter, "I- we-"

"Relax Shelbie. I'm kidding." How was he smiling? How did it not hurt to smile the big. My hangover was misery. I was having to squint to avoid the sunlight as much as possible. Moving my eyebrows made it feel like someone was shoving ice picks in my skull. Don't even get me started on talking. I could barely carry on in a whisper. I initially thought I'd just cut my losses and go back to bed.

"How are you not hungover?" I asked in shock.

"Oh, I'm hungover, just not as hungover as you." he chuckled, "I swear you drank your way through half the bar's liquor supply."

"And you didn't?"

"Well, one of us needed to be sober enough to drag the other back to the hotel." he seemed possitively jovial, "That's not to say that my head isn't throbbing. It seems to be a tad bit milder than yours."

Moments after I had managed to compose myself enough to finish dressing, a knock sounded on the door, causing both of us excrutiating pain, "Shelbie, open the door!" Harry's voice sounded from the other said of the door.

My breath caught in my throat. I turned to Liam who had just about the same expression of horror as I did at play, "Just a second!" I called to Harry, before turning on Liam, "You need to leave." I whispered.

"What do you expect me to do? Scale the side of the building?" He had a point there.

"Just...get under the bed." I whispered, shoving him in the proper direction. There was a knock at the door again, but this time I actually made an attempt at answering it, "What do you want, Harry?" I asked, catching him mid-knock.

"Do you care to explain this?" he asked, with the most serious face I'd ever seen him use. Harry held up a copy of the International newspaper. My heart dropped through my stomach as I saw what was splashed across the front page. How had someone managed to catch that picture? I don't remember seeing any cameras. Then again, I didn't really remember much of anything from last night to begin with, "Liam, mate, get up. I know you're back there." Harry called, as he barged past me and into my room. He really wasn't one for curteousy, I'd come to learn.

Liam carefully sat up, a sheepish look on his face. I sent him a death stare. He just sent me an apologetic glance, "This," Harry shook the paper in our faces, "is bad publicity. Now everyone in the entire bloody European empire thinks one of our lead singers is a player and our stylist is a strumpet!"

Splashed across the front page was a photo from last night of Liam and me singing together. I would be lying if I said it didn't look like there was something going on between us. We were mere inches away from each other. To any onlooking fan girl, we would've looked like we were about to kiss.

Come have a drink with me, he said. Colleagues do it all the time, he said.

It was just my luck that this was published in a newspaper that both my boyfriend in New York and my family back home would see. I would be the poster girl for Henryville, Indiana after that article surfaced. My parents will be so proud...

I frantically scanned the article, hoping it wouldn't be as utterly horrific as I'd imagined. No, this was much, much worse.

Phrases like, "stealing glances" and, "first date" managed to capture my attention. Bile rose in my throat at the idea that people would actually read this.

"Does this mean Danielle is out of the picture for good?" Liam read. He seemed to be just as mortified as I was. He didn't seem angry at me though. Just embarrassed by the whole situation, "This is rubbish." he mumbled, crumpling the paper and throwing it in the waste bin.

"I'm sorry." I murmured, trying to catch his attention, but he darted out the door without another word.

The moment of awkward silence gave Harry the opportunity he needed to turn on me, "Why would you do this?" he asked. It was clear he wasn't mad. It was also clear that he thought I was the biggest moron that ever walked the planet, "WHY would you get up on stage with Liam at a place that is KNOWN as a paparazzi hang out?"

"I didn't know!" I swore, "I don't exactly make it a habit of keeping up with the Paparazzi, believe it or not."

"Look, just do us all a favor and try to not be seen out in public?"

"What?" No public meant no shopping. How the hell did he suppose I was going to pull that off?

"Look, the paparazzi aren't just going to be all over us; they're going to be all over you now, too. So just do everybody a solid and stay in the trailer and in the hotel and much as possible. If you go out, go accompanied by a bodyguard."

I cast my glance over to the microwave, shocked at the time. Had I really been standing here, talking with Harry for that long? It was 6:45.

"Harry, we've got to go." I said, grabbing my jacket from the back of the door and pulling my hair up into a sloppy pony tail, "We're late." I muttered, flying out the door like Speedy Gonzalez.

Just like that, Harry was his happy-go-lucky self again. We walked out the front of the building in comfortable silence. Once we were headed for the car that was supposed to be waiting for us, though, we were met by a barage of photographers. I was a little surprised by what I heard though. Most of them weren't yelling for Harry Styles, but for Shelbie Porter! I immediately felt like a deer in headlights and I'm sure I didn't look much better either.

"Are the rumors true?" one reporter called.

"Is it true that you are seeing a member of One Direction?"

"Can you confirm or deny that you eloped with Liam Payne?"

That one caught me off guard. Did one night of drinking really equate this much chaos? Against everything I had been taught, I whirled on the reporter, "You know what? We did NOT elope! He is very happy with his girlfriend and I am VERY happy with my boyfriend. Just leave us alone!"

With that, I slammed the car door and we sped off down the street. What had I just done?
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