Dearest Riley

Riley Horan. Sound familiar? Probably not. According to Modest! Management (a.k.a. One Direction’s management company), Riley doesn't exist. She is Niall Horan’s sister, but she goes by her fake name: Riley Gibbons. Management has asked (more like forced, actually) Riley and her family to keep her identity a secret from everyone else. No one knows that she has a famous brother, or that her famous brother has a sister. And it seems that Niall is absolutely fine with this situation; he seems to enjoy Riley not being in his life. Depressed and quite pissed (because her life is pretty bad at the moment), Riley thinks she has no one to turn to for help. That is, until another member of One Direction strolls into her life and changes things.

And don’t worry; this isn't a typical “teen-age-ery” love story. In fact, Riley doesn’t even like Harry Styles when he enters her life. If you really want the truth, Riley thinks Harry Styles is an asshole…….

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7. A Compliment and a Tender Touch

The next morning I woke up super early; I just wanted to get ready before Harry wakes up, so I could avoid the awkwardness that was bound to follow last night's events. Harry just crossed a line last night, and, even though I promised I would be polite (for Gemma's sake), I couldn't just let that pervert get away with thinking he could sleep with me. But, as I wash my face in Emer's bathroom, I decide to start fresh with Harry. I'm still pissed about yesterday's ordeal, but, after all, he was probably jet-lagged. I know I get pretty crabby when I'm jet-lagged and sleep-deprived, so maybe he does, too. Besides, Gemma seems like a really nice girl, so her brother can't be that bad. Their parents couldn't have raised an angel and a devil under the same roof.

I laugh at my thought. After all, my parents raised me and Niall under the same roof.

After getting ready, I pour myself a bowl of cereal from the kitchen. I was starving; I didn't really eat much at dinner last night (because of you-know-who). I entered the dining room and ate by myself at the table. It was only about 6:00 am, so I assume that Emer and Gemma were still sleeping. And I know for a fact that Harry was still sleeping, considering his snores echoed down the hall.

I look down at my bowl of cereal. It was some kind of knock-off brand of Fruit Loops. But, in the dining room lighting, the colored pieces seemed to form different shapes, creating an illusion of a picture. It looked like something I would paint.

I smile at the thought. Painting was a passion of mine, just like it was for charcoal, sculpting, and sketching. I just had a talent for art, but I haven't really been drawing as much as I used to lately. In fact, when Niall first went on the X Factor, I drew him a huge picture, to celebrate his accomplishment. It was of him standing on stage, and I drew thousands of people cheering for him, because that's what I had hoped would happen. And, yes, I am sort of proud for my brother on some level, because I know he's living his dream, and it's what I prayed for all those weeks he was on the X Factor. But at the same time, it's hard to be proud for someone who isn't proud of you.

I sigh at my stupid thoughts. That was the last time he acted like my brother.

Returning back to my previous thoughts, I drew a lot while Niall was away. In fact, I drew all of the members of One Direction. I was going to send my drawings to them, but I gave up once Niall gave up on me. Since then, I've continued drawing (and painting, etc.), but it's not the same. I still love it, but not as much as I used to.

I create art for myself, because it makes me happy, but it's not as rewarding when no one cares that you've created something special. Niall used to love watching me draw; he would sit there for hours while I sketched away. He always was mesmerized by my creations. And, in return, I would sit and watch Niall sing and play guitar, feeling proud of my brother's talents.

I was so consumed in my thoughts that I barely noticed when Harry walked into the dining room.

"What's up, babe?" he asks, chewing a banana.

"Just eating my cereal," I mumble, biting my tongue. I so badly wanted to snap at him. How the hell does he have the nerve to call me 'babe'?

"Fascinating." Harry smirks at me while I roll my eyes.

"Listen, I already have a very low opinion of you, so please, I'm begging you, please don't make it even worse than it already is."

"Begging? Did you just say 'beg'? After last night, I thought you would never beg for the 'Styles'." He grins his cocky ass grin, and I almost choke on my cereal.

"Excuse me?! What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! I was going to forgive you after what happened last night but--"

"What happened last night?" he asks, trying to sound innocent and naïve.

"Listen, I don't even know what the fuck happened either, but I do remember you being a perverted asshole, and if you think you can get away with that then you are fucking mistaken."

"Listen, babe, I'm sorry if I upset you. I was just trying to be funny."

"Yeah, right," I snort.

"Come here," Harry says, holding out his arms and gesturing for a hug.

"If you think for one minute that I'm going to hug you, then you are just a big fucking idiot. Never in a million years would I ever hug a pervert like you; knowing you, you would just take the opportunity to grab my ass."

"But you do have a nice ass," he comments, his eyes hovering down my body.

"See, this is exactly why I don't like you!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

"Well you fucking should be."

"Sit," he commands, pointing at my chair. I was so angry I hadn't even noticed that I stood up.

"You can't go around telling people to 'sit' like they're a dog. I'm just so pissed off right now I can't even begin to describe how fucking messed up you are."

"I don't understand why you're that mad at me. I was just joking around, and besides, I gave you an apology and a compliment."

"Compliment?!"

"Yeah, when I said you had a nice ass."

"If you think that's a compliment then you're just a fucking douchebag. I'm just so done with trying to be nice to you. I haven't even known you for 24 hours, and already I want to throw you off a cliff."

"I guess I'm special, huh?" he asks, folding his arms.

I just roll my eyes for the hundredth time and walk into the living room. I pray he doesn't follow.

But, as I approach the couch, I can hear his footsteps following, and I can feel his touch as he softly grabs my arm.

 

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