Secrets Long Kept

What would happen if Harry Styles fell for a Swiftie? How long could she keep her fandom a secret? What would happen if Harry and his bandmates found out?

Grace Woodhouse is happy with life. But then she crashes-quite literally-into Harry Styles. He makes it his mission to get her to date him, but Grace is torn since she's a diehard Swiftie. Will their love last?


3. He Wants to See Her Again

Harry won’t stop texting me.  That boy won’t give up.  No matter how many times I say no, Harry won’t stop asking me to go out with him.  It’s been two days since we met, and he’s probably asked me out ten times!

I have to admit, I’m a bit pleased the Harry Styles is trying to persuade me to go on a date with him.  And I did kind of fall for him.  But I’m a loyal Swiftie, and I’m not sure it would be a good idea if I dated Harry after Taylor did.  Even though she and I have never met, how would she take it if she heard one of her fans was dating her ex?  Wouldn’t it be kind of like someone dating their friend’s ex?

It also doesn’t help that Harry has come back to the Art Institute both days.  Today, it was only for fifteen minutes since One Direction has a concert tonight, but yesterday he joined a couple of my tours.

I look down and finger the tickets Harry gave me today.  He wants me to come to the concert.  I’m still deciding if I’ll go or not.  The seats are amazing—fourth row—but I have exams to study for, not to mention assignments from class.

I log into Twitter on my phone and check the timeline on my anonymous Swiftie account.

Just got free tickets to see 1D, I tweet. Should I go?

I’ve got a lot of followers, so I get replies pretty quickly.  The answers are pretty much split fifty-fifty.  Half are saying yes—awesome opportunity, I could annoy the boys, maybe get revenge for Taylor—while the other half are saying no for obvious reasons.  I’m pretty torn.  After checking the time, I make up my mind.  If I can get ready in fifteen minutes, I’ll go.  The band is playing at the Sears Centre, and if I don’t leave in twenty minutes, I’ll be too late to make it on time.

Admittedly, I try and go slowly, but it’s impossible.  I’ve showered in seven minutes, and I’m dressed with dry hair and fresh make-up eight minutes later.

“Guess I’m going,” I mutter to myself as I run downstairs and out onto the Chicago streets. 

I quickly hail a cab.  It’s going to cost a fortune getting to and from the concert, but I’ve got plenty of money saved up.  And if I start to run low, I can always ask my parents for more.  I come from an upper middle class family, and my parents don’t seem to understand the concept of teaching their children to work for money; thankfully, I figured it out pretty well on my own.  Still, it’s useful having the Bank of Dad on speed dial.

I get to the concert in time, although I’m cutting it pretty close.  Finding my seat isn’t too hard.  I settle in amongst the Directioners.  They’re screaming, and some are already crying.  I can’t help but think how crazy the fandom is.  And when One Direction comes out on stage, I can’t help but wish I had brought ear plugs.  If I’m not deaf by the time the night is over, it’ll be a miracle.

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