Baby Lips

Harry Styles was used to getting what he wanted. But that seemed to change when Scarlett McVay crashed into his life... literally.

Harry wants the one girl that doesn't want him back, and he'll do anything to have her.

Winning what you want might mean losing something you need.

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3. Three

 

My thawing finger tips wrapped around the steaming red coffee cup that I had just ordered. There were two things good about the winter time: one being my birthday and two being peppermint mochas from Starbucks. The burning liquid blazed down my throat causing my eyes to wince in pain, but I didn’t even care. That beverage was too damn good to wait for it to cool. 
 
I took a seat next to the door, setting my turquoise bag on the table and crossing my denim covered legs. So, I may have taken a little bit of a pit stop on my way to the radio station. I sighed with a sense of pride. I loved knowing that I was intending on being late. I wanted to annoy Harry just as much as he was annoying me.  
 
I don’t even know this kid and he gets under my skin. I thought as my careless hands dug through my purse to find his cell phone. I stopped in my tracks, what was I doing? I told myself before not to invade his privacy. Even if he did invade mine. I set the phone down lightly on the table, glancing at it every so often as I took frequent sips of my mocha.  
 
I began to zone out from the noisy banter of the coffee bar to the music playing softly in the background. At the moment, it was Michael Buble and I hummed along to his timeless voice. There was something about that man and his music that instantly put you in a better mood. And it didn’t hurt that he was quite attractive. The soft piano drowned out and the radio DJ’s obnoxious voice replaced Michael’s. I rolled my eyes, hoping that he would speak briefly and another song would come on. 
 
But I waited impatiently, tapping my fingernails against the paper cup until the man said something that made my ears perk up like a dog that just saw a squirrel. 
 
“We have One Direction in the studio with us today!” He shouted making my eyes widened. I let out a squeaking noise and quickly covered my mouth in hopes that people wouldn’t notice what a spaz I was. I looked around the shop for a speaker, to get closer to the music and spotted by the table across from me.  
 
I leapt out of my seat, with my coffee and Harry’s phone in hand, and into the next. The improvement in sound wasn’t much but it would have to suffice. I heard all the boys exchange hello’s and various other greetings. Everyone’s voices sounded the same so I couldn't‘t make out who was who, except the Irish one. Niall, I’m 99.9% positive that was his name.  
 
“So tell us, what are you boys up to these days?” The interviewer asked and waited a bit for a response. 
 
“Well,” One of them started, “we’ve been busy lately, lot’s of interviews and such. But we’re just trying to enjoy it as much as we can.” I chewed the inside of my lip, desperately wishing I knew who just spoke. 
 
“I’ll have to agree with Liam.” I heard Niall’s accented words follow as if he could hear my thoughts and answered my question. I heard a laugh come from the DJ. 
 
“Harry, you look a wee bit distracted.” I gulped and tightened my grip on the phone I was supposed to have swapped with him by now. 
 
“Oh,” he laughed insincerely. “I’m just waiting for someone.” I looked around the Starbucks to see if anyone else was catching what they were saying. I suddenly had a feeling that everyone knew I was hoarding Harry Styles’ phone. That they were all quietly judging me while sipping their overpriced lattes. I took a deep breath and listened in. 
 
“He’s waiting for a girl!” I heard another band mate chime in. I shook my head and stood up from the chair where I was sitting. I needed to leave. I couldn’t listen to that much longer.  
 
Why did I even come up with this idea in the first place? I wanted my phone back and the sooner, the better. I dashed out of the coffee shop and practically sprinted the rest of the way to the station. 
 
I knew I was there when another mob of screaming girls was outside the entrance. My eyes rolled. Don’t these girls have better things to do then wait around for five bastards?  
 
I braced myself before pushing through them, being a bit timid at first. Politely saying, “Excuse me.” But once one girl pushed me back, it was war. I shoved and threw elbows until I made my way to the gate that held all of the fans in their pen. I bit my bottom lip as I took out Harry’s phone. I dialed my own number once again. 
 
It only took one ring until he answered, which I could barely hear through these deafening screeches. 
 
“Look, I can’t hear you, but if you could just tell someone to let me in that would be great.” I shouted into the phone before ending the call, hoping none of these stalker fans noticed I was holding one of their beloved’s phones. 
 
Within seconds a muscular man in a highlighter yellow vest came strolling over to me, his hands balled in fists at his sides. I smiled at him lightly, hoping it would take the scowl off his face. 
 
“Are you Scarlett McVay?” He asked.  
 
“That’s me.” I replied. He took a breath before unhinging the gate and letting me quickly through. I heard multiple girls scream after me. 
 
“Who is she!?”  
 
“Why does she get to go in!?” 
 
I was being forcefully pushed into the radio station’s glass doors and once they were securely shut, the noise was gone. The shouts were silent. My shoulders relaxed before my arm was being tugged down a narrow hallway, and at the end there was a tiny room. 
 
It was filled with fluffy bean bags of all colors. There were tables filled with the latest magazines and a mini fridge stocked with sodas, water, and alcoholic beverages. But my steady heartbeat became irregular when I noticed the large glass window that looked into the studio. 
 
The five of them stood in a semi-circle with large headphones, that looked a bit more like earmuffs, covered their ears. They looked as though they were laughing, but I couldn’t hear  a word they were saying. I’m guessing there was some sort of sound proofing in the walls.  
 
The security guard continued to pull me to the door that led to the studio where the band’s radio interview was being held. My brow wrinkled.  
 
“Where are you taking me?” I asked sounding frightened, which in all honesty... I was. 
 
“Mr. Styles specifically asked for you to join their interview.” 

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