2. Perfection's Child

It's been thirteen years since Harry and Maisey have welcomed their first daughter to the world: Hazel Lillianne Styles. Her life starts out rough when Maisey experiences complications in labor, but takes a turn for the best when a big-time modeling agent sees her photo on Twitter.
Suddenly, she becomes the "It-Girl" for the younger generation-- at only thirteen years old. Harry firmly pushes away the spotlight on her beautiful daughter, but Maisey encourages it. Will it cause tensions in their marriage?
Society is rocked by the sudden upbringing of this unique child and all they want is to see Hazel continue on to become something big (like her father). Can she handle the spotlight? Or will life become suddenly ordinary for this little girl and her family...? For Perfection's Child.
***Sequel to Close to Nothing***
(Ages 13+ recommended) [A One Direction Fanfiction]


10. America and Temptation

[A/N: Just so you know, this is a long and IMPORTANT chapter, so get comfortable... (: ]


"Are you ready to go, Hazel?" Mum called me from downstairs. 

"Just about!" I yelled back, grabbing my duffel and phone. Excitement fluttered in my stomach at every thought about modeling in America-- the land of dreams and movie production. I sprinted downstairs, nearly falling in the process. "I'll be in the car, Mum!" I hollered, flying out the front door. 

As I sat in the car, trembling with excitement, my phone buzzed.

From: Marg!(: <3

Promise me that you'll be careful and take photos of some hot guys for me.

To: Marg!(: <3 

Hopefully it'll be WITH hot guys...(;

From: Marg!(: <3 

Have fun, wifey! <3

To: Marg!(: <3

I'll miss you, wifey!(;

Aunt El soon joined me in the car, turning to face me, "Are you excited, love?"

"Of course!" I squealed. "Wait, are you coming with?"

"Mhm," she smiled. "I thought I'd bring Tommy to America, too."

I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping to my feet, but managed, "W-w-what?"

"Tommy's coming,"

"No, no," I laughed uneasily. "But,  he can't."

"Oh, yes he can," Aunt El grinned, holding up his passport. Well, shit.

Sure enough, Tommy and Mum joined Aunt El and I in the car, Tommy taking the seat in the back by me, and Mum taking the driver's. I uncomfortably folded my arms across my stomach, trying not to smile. Tommy kept on throwing glances in my direction, smirking in a silly way. My phone buzzed yet again; I was expecting Marg, but I was... wrong.

From: Tommy


I sighed, turning to look a him like, "Really?" He shrugged, pointing at my phone.

To: Tommy

No. Just excited.

From: Tommy

You'll do great

I did a little dance with my thumbs, pondering what to say next. I twisted my lips, finally typing something.

To: Tommy


Simple enough...



We touched down in California at about 8 AM. The sun warmed my cheeks and made my heart flutter-- I was in America. We disembarked the jet, thanking the pilot and making our way through the airport, guarded by a few of my dad's security guards. That was his biggest condition of me flying to America with Mum-- security. 

Immediately, people recognized me, snapping photos and asking me questions. I did my best to ignore them, but be as friendly as possible by shooting them a small smile when they called out my name. Mum clenched her jaw as we walked, and it made me wonder what the fans first thought of her when she married Dad. I slowed down a little when I looked at her, but a firm, but gentle, hand pressed into my lower back. Tommy.

"Keep walking," he whispered, leaning forward just so his voice could reach me. I gave a quick nod, fixing my eyes towards the end of the airport corridor, whilst blocking out all of the shouting and frantic fangirls craning their necks to get a photo. 

When we finally reached the exit, the bodyguards guided us into a compacted car, with thick windows and black tinting. 

"Hurry," one of them urged me on, then got inside with us. "They just get worse and worse." he groaned, inspecting a line of fingernail scratches on one of his biceps. I gasped, taking the hem of my shirt and dabbing some of the blood off. 

"You didn't have to--" he began.

"You risk your lives for us, so what's dabbing a little blood off?" I smiled. "It's the least I could do."

"I have to say, Hazel," he grinned. "You're quite the lady for someone so young."

"Oh, yes, she's great," Tommy boasted. "The best."

I glared at him, widening my eyes and mouthing 'Stop!'

"I'm sure she is," the bodyguard chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit at a fuming Tommy.

"Tommy," Aunt El scolded, nudging him in the ribs. What the hell was that?!



When I made it to the shoot, I was immediately in awe: beautiful people-- everywhere. From tall, muscled, and bronze-skinned boys to lean, fit, and tanned girls. I felt out of place, for my tan was much less extraordinary than the others. A tall, blonde woman approached me with open arms.

"Hazel Styles!" she cood. "So great to finally meet you!" I gave her an awkward hug and hand shake, awe-struck by her towering height. She was pretty, but clearly covered it up with makeup. I noticed she had a scar across her temple, caked over with concealer. I decided not to ask about it.

"And you," I smiled at her. 

"Come right over here and take a seat," she patted a chair set in front of a vanity, lights surrounding the mirror. "Terese will do your hair and makeup, and we'll get you into the first outfit."

"Thank you," I replied as she led Mum, Tommy, and Aunt El away. 

A young woman with pencil straight black hair and neatly cut bangs joined me at the vanity. Though she wasn't very old, she had smile lines around her eyes and lips. Her deep brown eyes were kind and warm, immediately lifting some of the tension built up inside me.

"I'm Terese," she took my hand in hers. "Don't be nervous, sweetie. You'll have fun, trust me."

"Okay," I managed a smile. "I feel really out of place with all of these Americans."

"Oh, don't worry," she laughed. "The rest of the models love having a foreign girl at the shoots. Gives us a variety!"

I kept quiet as she curled my hair into light, beachy waves, falling loosely down my shoulders. She put all sorts of makeup on my face, including bronzer, which made me look like the rest of the models. When she finally stepped behind me, allowing for me to see my reflection, I was taken aback at how different I looked. My face had clear definition, steep cheekbones bronze and shiny. My eyelashes were curled and lengthy, almost touching my eyelid. I felt beautiful, but I knew it wasn't me that I was looking at.

"Follow me," she gestured, walking off toward a row of dressing rooms. She handed me a peach-coloured skimpy bikini and a pair of aviators. I almost refused to wear it, but remembered that style in America is much different; I'd just have to adjust to it.

I quickly changed, emerging from the dressing room shyly.

"Oh!" Terese cried, clapping a hand over her mouth. "You look stunning!"

"Do I have to come out?" I gripped the curtain of the dressing room, hiding my body. 

"Yes, of course!" she laughed. "Come on out."

When I stepped daintily into view of everyone else, all of the commotion stopped. I felt like all eyes were on me at one moment, making my stomach knot inside. I noticed a sandy-haired boy wearing a pair of swim trunks smirking at me, his bright blue eyes tracing my body. I immediately wrapped my arms around myself, hiding my chest and hips. 

"Don't be shy, Hazel," Terese put an arm around my shoulders. "You look amazing." She led me out of the building into the white sands of the beach. I breathed in the salty air, tasting it on my tongue, "You'll take your first set here, then we'll take you back inside for an outfit and hair change."

I only nodded, approaching the photographer who shook my hand with a smile, "Just position yourself how I say, okay, Hazel?" I nodded, feeling uncomfortable when two boys about my age walked over, shirtless, of course, and smirking. Was smirking some sort of American trend? 

The photographer had me stand in between the two boys, their arms around my waist. I think one of them noticed my nerves, because he pinched my hip a little, giving me a faint smile. I returned the smile, dropping my eyes to the sand. 

"Now, Hazel," the photographer spoke to me. "Put your hand on Evan's stomach, and lean into him more than Lane." It turned out Evan was the one who had pinched my hip-- his blonde hair was swept up into a messy quiff, his hazel eyes perfectly framed by a fan of rather long lashes. I didn't hesitate to place my hand over his abs (actually I was quite eager). I let myself relax a little as my head lolled against his chest. The photographer positioned Lane towards my back, his hands on my waist as if to 'pull me away' from Evan, "PERFECT!" the photographer ran off to his camera, peering through the viewfinder.

"Hazel, I just want you to clench your jaw, and look straight at the camera with your lips a little bit parted," he told me. I obeyed, as if the expression came naturally. "Good, now Lane, smile a little, but only look at Hazel. Evan, lean into Hazel more-- there you go! Hold it there!"

He snapped a few photos, using different angles around us. Later, he had Evan and I mess around for a more 'natural' shot. For example, he tossed me over his shoulder, making me squeal with laughter. Another time, he held me in his muscled arms like a child, cradling me. I wrapped my arms around his neck with a look of laughter written across my mouth. Needless to say, I loved it. 

I was kind of glad that Mum and Aunt El weren't around to see it-- it made it a lot less awkward for me. The only problem was, I occasionally saw Tommy lingering around the shoot. He'd be carrying a cup of coffee or just walking with his hands jutted into his pockets and a frown on his face.

I must admit, I felt bad. Tommy wasn't nearly as extravagant as these guys, and I think he knew it. He seemed really insecure when he walked around, glancing at the buff models and shaking his head. I tried to act like I didn't notice him, but it was pretty hard. Once I even caught him looking at me with Evan and Lane sadly, his blue eyes almost liquid. I think my expression softened, because the photographer snapped at me to keep my poise. 



After my outfit change, Terese had me dressed in a low-cut navy, frilled blouse and the shortest shorts I'd ever worn.They exposed much of my thighs and almost my bum, as well. She curled my hair and twisted my bangs together and pinned them back. She perfected my makeup and ushered me out to another part of the shoot-- a backdrop with a single wooden chair placed in the centre. At first I panicked, because I realized that there were two new guys for this part of the shoot-- a boy about my age with dark, scruffy hair and bright green eyes; freckles sprinkling his nose, and the one that smirked at me when I first stepped out of the dressing room. He still had the same smirk, but this time I was sure he was looking right at me. I sidestepped, rubbing my arm uncomfortably.

"Alright, Hazel," this time it was a new photographer. "This is Tyler," he gestured to the dark-haired guy. "And this is Ashton." he pointed at the sandy-haired guy. "They'll be in this part of the shoot with you."

I nodded, pursing my lips. 

"Ashton, take a seat here," he placed a hand on the chair in the centre and then waved me over. "Hazel, sit on his lap, but sideways so you can put your arms around his neck. Perfect!" he complimented as I loosely wrapped my arms around his neck. Ashton seemed to be the sly and dangerous type that would play with your heart. He wouldn't stop glancing at me with that same annoying-- yet attractive-- smirk. 

"Hazel, I want you to smile at Ashton," the photographer instructed. "Ashton, smile at her, too, but look at her mouth."

"You have a beautiful mouth," Ashton mused. I heard Taylor snort with laughter off to the side, waiting his turn. 

"Smile," the photographer pressed.

I did as he asked, smiling naturally-- almost like laughter-- as I looked into Ashton's piercing blue stare. I could almost see my reflection in his bronze skin, which I found rather fascinating. 

"Good," the photographer clicked his tongue. "Okay, Hazel, pretend you're whispering in his ear."

At first I hesitated, leaning in slightly but withdrawing. Ashton glanced at me, still smirking. I ignored it, and eventually put my lips near his ear.

"Ashton, bite your lower lip," 

He obeyed, and at first the pose seemed a little bit seducing... What would Dad think...?

"Perfect!" the photographer cheered. "Now, Hazel, I know it's a little quick. But modeling is a quick-paced thing. I need you to kiss Ashton for this next shot."

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. Kiss him? But... Tommy was here... He'd completely go insane! Ugh. But he's right. Modeling isn't all fun and games, but then again, isn't kissing a hot guy fun and games? Gosh, Hazel. Think.

"Er, a-alright," my voice cracked a little. I scooched my seat on Ashton's lap closer, wrapping my arms around his neck again. I leaned in slowly, parting my lips just a little. Before I knew it, our mouths were together, lips teasing each other. I felt horrible for actually enjoying it. Ashton settled his hand under my jaw, thumb tracing my jawline. It all felt so... perfect. And that's when I heard a cough. Not one from Tyler or Ashton, or even the photographer. But one from Tommy. Was I supposed to pull away? I couldn't tell. I still heard the click of the camera lens, snapping shots of our brief makeout. 

Finally, I pulled away, biting my lip. I let my arms fall from Ashton's neck, standing up from his lap. 

"I'm sorry," I began to tear up. "This is... this is too much." I pinched the bridge of my nose as I walked away to the vanity where Terese had done my makeup. She was there, talking on the phone.

"Hazel," she covered the speaker. "Hazel, I thought you were shooting?"

"I was," my voice was croaky and buffering a sob. "Terese, I don't know if I can do this." I finally broke down, sitting in the chair in front of the vanity, folding my arms and slamming my head down on them. I sobbed into them, tears tickling me. 

"Oh, you can!" she cried, settling a hand on my back. "I know it's a lot, but it's life as a model."

"I feel... h-horrible!" I sobbed. 

"Why?" she asked. "You did great, hon. Things do get better. I promise you!"

"But, he's gonna be so-o-o mad," 


"Tommy," I cried, lifting my head. I guess my makeup was messed up, because Terese contorted her face, but quickly pushed it away. "I had to kiss Ashton, and he-he saw! He saw it all!" I began sobbing again, breathlessly sniffling.

"Oh, Hazel," she cood. "If he knew how modeling goes, he'd understand."

"He doesn't," I cried. "That's the point!"

Terese didn't say anything else. She stood and left me at the vanity. I felt someone else's presence, but chose to ignore it. 

"Hazel, you did great," a cool voice said. I lifted my arm to just see who it was-- Ashton. "I don't know why you're upset."

"Go away," I sniffled.

"I won't," he smiled. I lifted my head from my arms, pressing the heels of my hands to my cheeks. I looked into the mirror and didn't see the beautiful girl that I had seen just hours earlier. I was pale, scrawny, gross, and ugly. My makeup was ruined, along with my hair. "I was going to ask you something."

"Whatever it is, the answer is no," I said coldly, shooting him a glare. 

"Feisty, aren't you?" he smirked, taking a seat in the chair next to me. "I was just wondering if you'd like to get some lunch with me."

"No," I retorted. 

"Come on, babe," he begged.

"Don't call me that,"

"Alright," he tightened his jaw. "I just hope you know that the photographer was so pleased with how well we worked together that he's going to pair us up for the rest of the shoot. Tyler's pretty bummed, and so is Evan. Jealous, actually."

"I'm not doing anything with you," I snarled, combing my hair back.

"Oh, but you are," he smiled sinisterly. "There's still three more outfit changes, and I'm in your section of the shoot for each one."

"Then I won't do it,"

"You have to," he smirked, scooting closer. "They want you to be the American face of Abercrombie."

"What!?" I almost sounded excited. "I mean, why? I'm British."

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "You're the youngest by far. Usually they're eighteen and up!"

"Don't care," I sighed. "I'm not going to do this. My dad was right..." 

"Right about what?" he actually sounded concerned...

"That the press are obnoxious," I said grimly. "And I should stay out of it."


(A/N: What do you guys think Ashton and Evan look like? What about Taylor? I wanna know! Post a picture below! Can you predict who Hazel will choose? Tommy or Ashton?)

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