The Contract

Harry Styles' manager wanted to get rid of the rumors and bad media. So she hired him a girlfriend, who signed a contract. What could go wrong?

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Willow P.O.V.

"We just want to get rid of the bad media for Harry. We already have two other girls who we find perfect for the job, like you, but we've decided to let Harry choose between you three." The lady in a business suit says, smiling a big fat fake smile.  She was talking about Harry Styles. You know. The one from that famous boy band, One Direction.

"So you're serious? You are seriously going to hire a girl to be Harry's fake girlfriend?"

"Yes. It is going to be for a whole year, you will have to sign a contract. We will pay you 3,000 dollars a month. The final pay check will be 7,000 dollars. After the year is up you and Harry can stage a break up or stay together. It's entirely up to you. However, if you break the contract or tell anyone about it, I'll have to sue you."

"I'll do it." I nod.

"Good. Now all he has to do is choose you and you've got yourself a job. I'm Susan Jobbs, by the way. Harry's manager."

"And I'm Willow Jordan. I serve coffee and breakfast sandwiches, Monday through Thursday."

"Pleasure doing business with you." She hands me a card and walks off.

I look down at the slip of paper. It has a phone number, her name and where to meet tomorrow.

In all reality, I hate Harry Styles. And I hate One Direction. But I need the money. And once the contract is over I can take my money and leave.

_  _  _

"I didn't agree to this." Harry grumbles, glaring at Susan.

"I know, Harry. But if you want to continue being in a band, you have to get rid of the rumors. They think you have sex with every girl."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"Harry, all you have to do is fake it for a year. You don't have to like her.  It'll just clear up the rumors."

"Fine." His eyes scan the two girls to my left.

There's a girl with straight black hair and super dark brown eyes. Her face is caked in make-up. How lovely. The other girl has bright red hair, probably died, and she is literally freaking out that freaking Harry Styles is freaking stand right in front of her freaking self.

Harry looks at me. "Her."  He smiles but it soon fades once he realizes that I'm not going to jump and shout in happiness.

"Okay." Susan ushers the other two out of the room.

"What's your name?" Harry questions me.

"Willow."

"Cool name." I nod slightly.

"Cool curls." I speak, looking at his hair, which I didn't expect to be this full of curls.

"Cool eyes." He nods towards my bright blue eyes.

"Cool face."

"Cool shirt."

"Cool shoes." I smile.

"Cool..pants?"

"Cool socks."

"Cool.....dang it, you win." He laughs.
"Of course I win." I shrug.  

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