A Night In Las Vegas With Harry Styles

When Allie's summer internship at True Fan magazine turns into a 3 month assignment to accompany UK band, 1D on their first American tour, she fully expected it to be the big break she needed for her budding journalism career.

What she didn't expect was to be thrust into a world of wild celebrity parties, backstage hook-ups, illegal drugs, "fast and the furious" speed car rides, public shagging, shameless cougars, naked boys, riotous fans and intoxicated late night shenanigans!

Allie suddenly finds herself on the road and in very close quarters w/ five of the most famous hotties in the world and one of them is reputed heartbreaker, HARRY STYLES.

She is determined not to become just another one of 1D’s “silly fangirls”-- reduced to hysterics, obsessing over, seduced by or falling in love w/ them.

Nevertheless, Allie soon finds herself falling for the charismatic Harry Styles. But is any of it real? Or has it all just been a slow seduction by a bored British teen pop star?


1. A Night In Las Vegas With Harry Styles

(Enjoy this excerpt from the novel, True Fan.)


Walking into the suite was like stepping onto the set of a movie.  It was ENORMOUS. The floors were marble, the furniture was plush, the mini-bar was actually a full sized bar and there were three flat screens—the largest in the sitting area, a smaller one behind the bar and one on the balcony.  Each bedroom had its own private bathroom.  The sunken sitting room was situated in the middle of the suite with 3 bedrooms on either side.  


The balcony was amazing and large enough to host a party on and featured a glass bottomed hot tub that I was sure I’d seen on some “rich and famous” E! channel special. Eleanor and Louis disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Through the closed door I could hear Eleanor crying and Louis desperately trying to console her.


“It keeps happening! Its not going to stop Louis, can’t you see that?!” she cried.


“But what am I to do about it?! Tell me and I swear I’ll do it!” Louis pleaded. “I’ve asked, warned and even threatened to get them to stop carrying on this way with you. I don’t know what else I can do...”


“There’s nothing you can do. That’s the problem. There’s nothing you can do and I’m tired...”


“Eleanor, sweetie, please don’t cry. It’ll be alright. I promise.”


I felt so bad for Eleanor. The fans really did hate her. If they really knew her they would see how sweet she was and wouldn’t be so hateful.


Gradually, everyone drifted off to their bedrooms for a good night’s sleep. It had been a long day and although tomorrow was a “free day” something told me it wouldn’t be any less exhausting.


It was the incessant buzzing of my cellphone that pulled me out of a peaceful sleep.  It had been going off for like a half hour but I was too lazy to roll over and check it so I just covered my head with one of the enormous fluffy hotel pillows. I knew it was probably a text and was probably from Kimber or Jax.  I just needed 5 more minutes to sleep… and then I’d check it.  As I started to drift back to sleep I realized the buzzing had abruptly stopped.  Reluctantly, I opened an eye and saw a figure sitting on the edge of my bed-- READING MY PHONE MESSAGES!


“What are you doing?!” I demanded.


“Your friend Kimber is quite the prolific texter.” Harry said. His bare back was to me as he continued to read my texts. “believes in quantity, not quality doesn’t she?”.


“What are you doing?! Why are reading my texts?!”


I pulled the covers tightly around me, suddenly aware that I was still in my pajamas-- which were basically just a tee shirt and undies.


“Well, I got bored waiting for you to wake up. Did you know you hum in your sleep? I’m quite certain it was a 1D tune. And then your mobile kept buzzin—“


Oh my God... had he been watching me sleep???


“Why are you in here???”


“To say good morning,” he looked over his shoulder and smiled at me. His eyes were like deep tropical pools…warm, green and inviting... a girl could easily find herself drowning in them…I…I… I needed him to leave! This was not at all appropriate for a professional journalist!


I was just about to order him out when he stood up, stretching his 6’2 figure and headed for the door. He had bedhead but somehow it looked even hotter than when it was actually styled.  


“Oh, and happy birthday,”  he said.


Was it my birthday? I’d completely forgotten with all that was going on. But how did he know?


I guess I looked as puzzled as I felt.


“You have like 50 birthday texts from Kimber, Jax, your parents, grandparents, etc.”.


And then he was gone. I could hear a lot of commotion out in the suite It sounded like I was probably the last one to get up so I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the shower.


As soon as I was dressed and walked out of the bedroom Zayn, Liam, Harry and Niall launched into a loud, boisterous version of “Happy Birthday” and presented me with a stack of fluffy room service pancakes topped with a mountain of whipped cream, chocolate syrup, chocolate chips and three candles.  It looked more like an ice cream sundae than breakfast.


Eleanor and Louis were conspicuously absent. I wondered where they were.


Later that evening Zayn, Niall, Liam and I sat around the spacious suite... bored out of our minds.


“Vegas is boring!” Zayn complained.


“I thought it would be like in the movies--wild and crazy fun,” Niall said, thumbing through a tourist brochure.


“Well, it probably is wild and crazy here if you’re 21,” I said.


“And if you’re not then you’re stuck in a hotel” Liam replied sulkily.


“So then, Allie what is the big deal about turning 18 in the U.S if you have to be 21 to do anything?” Niall asked.


I thought about it and he was right. It wasn’t a big deal. You got your driver’s permit at 15, your driver’s license at 16 and you could see an R rated movie by yourself at 17. I guess, turning 18 wasn’t a big deal to anyone except creepy older guys obsessed with pre-teen celebrity girls.  


Those Olsen twin and Miley Cyrus countdowns still gave me the creeps.


“Well... you can vote and enlist in the army when you turn 18,” I answered.


They looked at me with bewilderment and a bit of pity.


Then Harry, Louis and Paul walked in. They had just taken Eleanor to the airport.

Earlier, in the day Liam told me what happened.


Apparently, the incident in front of the hotel had been the last straw for Eleanor. She had been hysterical and angry.  Louis tried to convince her to stay but she wanted to leave for London as soon as possible and take a break from all of this, from the relationship and all of the negative stuff that came with it.


Louis was heartbroken.  The guys had decided to take him out later in the evening to cheer  him up.  They invited me to come along but I decided to just stay in and let them have their “boys night out”.


After the guys left I thought I’d be able to fill my night with working on my next True Fan post but I got done with that in about 30 minutes. So, I replied to all of the birthday wishes I’d received in texts, voicemails, tweets and on Facebook. I tried watching tv but found it incredible that a hotel this expensive didn’t have a single good pay-per-view movie available.


I was starting to get restless so I decided to go downstairs and explore the hotel.  The majority of the hotel’s ground floor consisted of shops, french themed restaurants and lots of slot machines and gambling tables.  Of course, I could not gamble-- not even at one of the frickin’ nickel slot machines. Turning 18 sucked. I finally accepted a free ticket to a show at one of the smaller casino’s not too far from the hotel.  


When I arrived at the tiny casino I realized why the ticket had been free. It was obvious they were having a hard time filling up the tiny dinner theater venue and I soon understood why. The soda was flat, the steak was tough and the bread was stale... kinda like the comedian’s act. I tried to stick it out but after 20 minutes I had to make my exit.


I wasn’t surprised when I entered the darken suite that the boys weren’t back yet. I knew they were probably having a better night than me.  I felt like a loser spending my birthday alone.  


Then I saw something stir by the bar. I turned on a lamp.


“Are you enjoying your birthday?” he asked.


Of course, it had to be Harry who returned first. He was opening a bottle of beer at the bar. I kept forgetting that the legal drinking age in the UK was 18.  But this was America! So, what did he think he was doing, anyway?!


I hadn’t been alone with Harry since our first meeting in LA.


“So, where are the other guys?” I asked trying to sound casual.

“A lap dancing club, I suppose.”


“They’re at a strip club???” I asked


“Possibly,” he answered. “That’s where we were meant to be this evening but just as we pulled into the parking lot Paul called the limo driver’s mobile and promised him $1000 if he’d return the five of us to the hotel. So, we devised a plan to leap out at the next traffic light. The rest of the guys made a swift getaway but I suppose I wasn’t quick enough because before I knew it we were moving again and the driver had locked me inside. So, here I am.”


Yes, here he was.


“So, Paul gave the driver 1/5 of the money he promised and the rest to be received once he helps him track down the other fellows,” he continued.


So, if Paul was out looking for the other guys... then the two of us were here alone. But, I wasn’t worried...not really. I had complete confidence Paul would make short work of rounding them up and bringing them back to the hotel with or without the limo driver’s help. He was good at his job.


“You know, if we were in the UK right now, I could be a proper gentleman and offer to buy you a birthday pint.” He waited, watching for my reaction.


Then he opened another bottle and held it out for me to take.


“But we’re not in the UK and drinking underage-- under the age of 21, is not ok here.” I pointed out, trying to sound as resolute as possible.


He smiled slowly, remaining undaunted.


“You’re never naughty, is that it? C’mon, have a beer with me Allie. I’d like to celebrate your birthday with you.”


Why did British accents make everything sound so proper? “C’mon, have a beer Allie.  Let’s go rob a bank. Wanna murder a family after we finish our tea and crumpets? Its the proper thing to do”.


Well, we were in the Paris Hotel and Casino and that was almost like being in Europe, right? Oh, who was I kidding!  It was almost midnight and I just couldn’t stand the thought that the highlight of my 18th birthday would be a crappy dinner theater excursion.


He walked from behind the bar and placed the bottle in my hand then headed out onto the balcony.


I followed him through the big glass doors.  The balcony was enormous and had an amazing view that overlooked the Strip. I began to shiver.  It wasn’t because I was cold but rather because I was incredibly frightened of heights.  Before I could move to go back inside Harry reached out and grabbed my hand as though he could read my thoughts and knew my moves before I did.


“Cheers.” he said and tapped his beer bottle against mine.


I took a sip. It was horrible.


“This city’s buzzin’, yeh? I mean, even if you aren’t 21 its still a pretty incredible place, especially from up here,” he said, looking out at the bright neon lit Las Vegas Strip.


I took another sip of beer.  How did people drink this stuff?


I watched the steam rise off the hot tub and wondered how many scantily clad famous people had utilized it and what debauchery had ensued.  Harry’s eyes followed mine to the hot tub. He let go of my hand and walked to the edge of it.


Then he slipped off his shoes...


then his shirt...


...and his pants!  


He was undressing right in front of me, God and everyone else who had a view of this balcony!  What was he doing?! What was I doing??!


I knew I should go back inside and leave him to his indecent exposure while shouting over my shoulder at him about what was appropriate behavior in the company of a female he barely knew.  But I didn’t go back inside. I didn’t shout at him.


I just watched.






Curious... as he linked his thumbs into the elastic band of his boxer-briefs and then...


...he turned back to me and winked.


A smile danced on his lips as he stepped into the hot tub, and to my great relief, still wearing his underwear.


He had a nice body--a swimmer’s body, lean with great muscle definition and broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist.


“Are you getting in?” he asked.


I finally blinked.


“I...uh, um... I didn’t pack a bathing suit,” I replied.


“What is underwear, really? Just a bikini of a different material, right?” he said.


He could be so charming.


“Maybe, but I never wear bikinis and I always wear a t-shirt over my bathing suit at the beach,” I pointed out.


Was he really suggesting that I strip down to my bra and panties???


There was no way that I would ever just strip down to my undergarments and hop into a hot tub with some... admittedly attractive pop star, in some incredible suite with an amazing view overlooking Sin City.


He could forget it! It just wasn’t going to happen...


Which is what I was still telling myself as I bashfully shed my clothing--but only down to my tank top and boyshort undies. That was all the flesh he was getting from me and that was that!


My entire body instantly relaxed as the hot water swirled around me, the jets massaging my back and legs.


I sat across from him. His eyes were almost luminescent in this dim light. He looked at me, smiling as he pressed the beer bottle to his lips and took a sip.  A momentary yearning enveloped me. I wanted to know what secret those lips promised and might whisper to me.


This was crazy.


I reached for my beer which was still sitting at the edge of the tub next to my pile of discarded clothing. I managed to choke down another sip.


It still tasted like burnt sewage.


He laughed at the face I made as I tried not to gag.


“How do you like it?” he asked.


“Its interesting,” I lied.


He laughed. “You hate it. Don’t worry, you’ll learn to love it. Kinda like our music.”


I regretted the things I’d said about his band back in LA.


“Its not that I dislike your music...I just never really listened to it--or any current music until about 3 days ago. I listen to mostly classics, you know, like from the 90’s.”


“And that’s all you listen to?” he asked, bewildered.


“Pretty much. No offense but music was way better back then.”


“So, you hate our music?”


“I never said I hated your music. Now, that I’ve heard it.... I like it. Ok, I really like it,” I admitted.  And that wasn’t a lie. They had beautiful voices.


“Thanks. So, anyway what is so special about 90’s music?”

“Sarah McLachlan? Paul Grohl? Pearl Jam? They were storytellers and poets.” I responded, my voice filling with the passion I felt. “It was before iTunes so artists had to write an entire album of great songs and not just build their careers one hit download at a time.  ‘The strands in your eyes...that color them wonderful, stop me, steal my breath. Like emeralds from mountains thrust towards the sky, never revealing their depths’.”


“That’s beautiful...”


“That’s Edwin McCain,” I informed him.




“He was like the Ed Sheeran of the 90’s. His lyrics are amazing. I love his music.”


“Sapphires,” he said after a moment.




He stood up, moving closer and gently cupped my chin in his hand.  Tilting my face upward he leaned down until we were just inches apart, gazing intently into my eyes.


“Your eyes. They’re the color of sapphires... two gorgeous sapphires. Not emeralds.”


“That’s just how the lyrics go,” I stammered out, turning away.


He sat back down, this time closer than before. Right beside me.


I felt my heart racing. There was nothing but water rushing between our two semi clothed bodies. I tried to focus on anything but him and his close proximity.  I couldn’t-- I wouldn’t let myself look at him again.


But then I did.  


Those eyes... that smile...those lips...the hair... NO! They were dangerous I reminded myself.


C’mon, Allie snap out of it, I commanded.  Pretty boys have ugly minds.  I think I’d read that someplace or perhaps I’d made it up just now, I wasn’t sure but it was sound advice.  I was not a fan or groupie! I was a journalist! I was not here to keep him entertained!


He shifted closer.


“You know, you’re very pretty.” He reached for my hand beneath the water.


What was he doing? What was this?


And then I knew. I’d witnessed it backstage at the MVA’s and repeatedly with every female reporter or fan he had come in contact with over the last two days.  I had watched how they’d all fallen to pieces with just a few expertly chosen words and a smile from him. How they’d melted with every word he uttered in that deep British accent.  




I had to have eardrums of lead.  I had to... I had to stop this. I was not falling for anymore games!


I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I got to me feet and climbed out of the hot tub.


“What’s wrong? Allie, where are you going?”, he asked puzzled.


I scooped up my clothes and went inside without answering or looking back. I couldn’t afford to do that.  I could hear him jump out of the tub and follow me through the glass doors into the suite.


“Allie, stop. Wait a minute. What’s happened?” he called after me as I sought the refuge of my room, shutting and locking the door behind me.


What’s happened?


What had happened out there???


Had I panicked?


Yes, and I knew why.  


Its not that I didn’t trust him.  I didn’t trust myself when I was around him.  This was not me--drinking underage, undressing and practically skinny-dipping with a boy I barely knew. I had acted like an easy piece of southern trash.


“Allie?” He called through the door. “Did I do something wrong?”


He waited for an answer. I could tell he wasn’t leaving until he got one.


I finally blurted out, “No, I just can’t deal with all of the kryptonite right now!”




I heard the door to the suite open as Paul returned withthe guys.  


Saved by the boy band.


I was right. It hadn’t taken Paul long to round them up.


“Harry, have you pissed yourself? Why are you scampering about in wet pants?” I heard Niall ask.


“I took a dip in the hot tub,” Harry said without any further explanation.


“Alone???” Liam asked.


I could see Harry’s shadow move away from the door.




“Harry, you twat! I can’t believe you bailed on a mate in need!” Louis said in a loud slurred voice.


“Louis, are you bladdered?” Harry asked.


“Yes.” I heard Paul answer. He sounded annoyed. “And must I once again remind you-- all of you, that the legal drinking age over here is 21. So, give it ‘ere Harry. No, don’t try to hide it behind your back. I saw the bottle when I walked in.”


Thankfully, he hadn’t seen me with the bottle I’d been sipping from earlier.


“I must say the highlight of the evening was when one of the dancers, upon noticing his famously ample ass, requested that our little Lewy give her a lap dance. And he actually did it!” Liam said, merrily.


“Brilliant!” Harry exclaimed.


Paul sighed  heavily. “And this is how I found them-- Louis pissed and dancing on an American strip dancer whilst she stuffed money into his pants. Your mother would be proud. I’ll be sure to tell her when we get back.”


“Oh, come off it Paul. Don’t be mad. At least he wasn’t having his photo taken playing strip poker like a certain ginger haired royal,” Liam pointed out.


“Well, I’m sure that pictures of this will turn up on the web anyday now.”


“Yeh, most likely tonight since I’ll be posting these to Twitter straight away,” Zayn announced. He also sounded kind of drunk.


“Zayn, no! Give me that phone! No, you don’t! Get back in here!” I heard Paul shout as he chased after Zayn who had bolted from the suite and out into the hotel corridor. The other guys followed them out cheering him on-- everyone except Harry.


Harry approached my door again. “Allie, are you sleeping?” he whispered.


I didn’t answer. He waited a few moments then I heard him walk away again.


Paul finally got the rowdy boys back into the suite.


I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower to drown out their voices.  I needed to think, to assess this situation with a rational mind.


Harry was trouble.


I knew that the first time I met him. I couldn’t let what happened tonight happen again. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t some ridiculous fawning groupie fan. I was smart, level headed.


Stephanie Meyer was right. Boys with gorgeous hair and perfect teeth were dangerous. But Edward Cullen didn’t have anything on Harry. He might not be capable of physically ripping out my heart but he was more than capable of breaking it. I just needed to remember that none of this was real.


These guys were celebrity pop stars and just like the Cullens everything about them-- him, Harry, was designed to attract the opposite sex. Everything from the bass in his voice to his accent, the way his hair fell across his eyes...those magnetic green eyes. Like the waters off the shore of some exotic tropical island, they were mesmerizing, warm, lapping against your consciousness, threatening to wash away all and any resistance.


But I couldn’t let that happen!


On the balcony, for a fleeting moment, I’d let myself believe that he could possibly be attracted to me. Interested in me. Ridiculous. I wasn’t going to delude myself like all of those silly fans who constantly professed their undying love as they ran along behind the limos, fainting every time he flicked his hair to the side.


It wasn’t real! It was an illusion. It was media training. It was a part of the show!

But was it a game?


Or was this his way of flattering me to ensure that I wrote good things about 1D in my True Fan posts?


That made more sense.


That was it, I decided, because the alternative was just too absurd. To think that he was even a tiny bit interested in me. I mean, the boys back home never really paid me any attention. Or... had it been the other way around? I mean, over the years a few might have but I was always too busy to really notice, I guess. Too focused on the future, good grades, good schools, transcripts, building a solid perfectly balanced resume of work, volunteering and social clubs.  I never seemed to have time for fun or making new friends. It was always just Jax, Kimber and I.  


But none of that really mattered because Harry was not some country boy from Gosper County.  He was Harry Styles and he could have any girl in the world that he wanted at any time. In fact, at this very moment, there were scores of girls down in the lobby and millions around the world who would massacre their entire families for just one kiss from Harry.

So had I imagined it? Or had it been a game that he was playing? Either way, it wasn’t real and that’s all I needed to remember. It was a lie.  Plus, he had even said it himself back in LA-- that “people lie”.   


And then I thought about Eleanor’s warning only 24 hours ago. She was right. I needed to watch myself or I would never make it to the end of this tour with my heart in one piece.


(If you enjoyed this you can contact the author at www.TrueFanBook.com and to check out her book True Fan.)


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