A very Harry Summer

At such an early stage of writing, the story is set to develop over time depending if anyone is interested in it :)

Phillipa Oakley and Harry meet when Pippa, a model, is doing a shoot with teen boy band One Direction. We join the story when Phillipa, a girl of natural beauty is forced to hide under thick coats of makeup after been severely beaten up by the night before by her dominate ex boyfriend. Harry, who's mood mirrors Phillipa's of emotional exhausation when he finds out his girlfriend has been cheating on him, notices a sadness in Phillipa and finds himself engrossed by her. Can the two act as a distraction from their problems or does their past make it hard for them to love again?


1. "Im Phillipa, and its okay"



I sat emotionless in the white room, that was occupied by nothing more than a back drop and a small wooden bench that me and Frankie were sitting on. Photoshoots were never as glamorous as they looked on magazines, no fancy props, they were always edited to fuck. I circled the top of my costa plastic cup and stared around the room, looking for any sign that my costume team had arrived. Impatiently, I dug in my bag and looked for my pocket mirror, my attention immediately been attracted to my eye, where a dark purple bruise was becoming more and more vibrant with each second. I squirmed uncomfortably on the bench, my full body aching and tender. I felt exhausted and drained, and longed to be in the comfort of my room, hiding my bruises from the world.

“This is a bad idea, I look hideous Frankie, they’ll no something’s up”, I turned to stand up but Frankie placed a soothing hand on my knee and tapped it lightly.

“Phillipa babe, look its fine, honestly, people will know something’s up if you keep acting this solemn. Here let’s get you some more concealer”.

Frankie was my makeup artist. And all round gay best friend. Ever since I got my first modelling contract, I got paired with Frankie, and although all my jobs had been small, he had been with me through them all. This was my first photoshoot for Vogue, and really I should be ecstatic. For months Iv been waiting for this, not believing I actually got the shoot after being put back so many times when agents presented Vogue with portfolios.

But how could I be excited? I thought back to last night and the events that happened, almost too surreal to believe. How could someone I loved and trusted, felt safe with, destroy me like that? I closed my eyes and clung to Frankie’s hand, wishing and wishing to be out of this place, to be at home away from the cameras.

“Frankie people will notice, look at my eye for God sake”, I bit back tears as Frankie stood up and turned to apply cover up to my eyes.

“Look Pippa, we’ve gone over the plan thousands of times lovey, remember, we say your makeup has already been applied and the flashes are too a minimum, no one has to know. Its just one photoshoot baby, then we’ll go straight home. Promise’. He finished touching up my make-up and squeezed my chin before kissing me on the forehead.

Maybe Frankie was right, after all, I only played a small part in this photoshoot. But still, it was a part that got my foot in the door that could determine the rest of my career. I was to play a fan of pop music band One Direction, playing the part of a hysteric fan girl as I watched them pose, and getting pictures with them. The photo-shoot was aimed to make them look desirable, make them so priceless and smooth. The article was totally based on them, no recognition going to me at all.

Frankie had been particularly keen for me to do this shoot, being what he proudly calls himself a ‘directioner’.

“What does that even mean”, I asked him when he first titled himself.

“Holy Shit Pip, do you not even read pop magazines? You need to seriously get your head out of the 80’s, One Direction are so fit”, he then proceeded to use his hands very vigorously whilst he talked about how ‘super hot’ Harry was and how he’d ‘give him one’.

 I snapped out of my trance and nodded my head in order to pull myself together, smiling as I tried to put myself in a better mood.

“See, there’s my beautiful girl!” A  raspy knock at the door made my smile dissolve and butterflies quickly submerged my nervousness.

“Don’t panic, It’ll probably just be Mel and the team with your outfits’, he stood up, smoothing down the lapels on his blazer and heading for the door, “Come the fuck in, your half an hour late”

“Oh, sorry, we didn’t realise we had to be here earlier, we got told 11:00?” a voice spoke but it wasn’t Mels. Or Carrys. Or Deans. Or any of my costume team. Instead it was a clear Irish voice, and I realised as Frankies face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet that he had just accidently shouted at  One Direction.

And then something bizarre happened. Something that you would literally have to see to believe. Frankie skipped, yes skipped over to the four boys that had now entered the room and fell on his knees in front of the Irish one.

“Niall, oh my Lord Niall you do not know how much of a fan I am. Oh my God- and Liam’, he then stood up in Louis Spence like manor and cantered over to Liam, “You just have fabulous hair, so light’.

When he started to run a hand threw a slightly scared Liams hair, I knew it was time to go and save Frankies dignity.

“A yes, boys this is the lovely Phillipa Oakley, the girl who youll be working with, although im sure you’v already been debriefed, and Pip this is Niall, Liam, Louis, Zayn!’ he pointed at them as he said there names, obviously proud that he knew them perfectly. The boys stood by and smiled, the boy called Liam stepping forward to shake my hand, “Hello Phillipa, it’s a pleasure to work with you today”

‘Yeah thanks Phillipa for doing this, we hope it doesn’t cut into too much of your time’, the boy called Zayn shook my hand and tapped me lightly on the shoulder.

‘Oh that’s fine’ I mumbled, eager to stop exchanging pleasantries and get this photo-shoot over and done with.  I wasn’t myself today, although I wasn’t the most outgoing of people, I always made a point of trying t get to know the people I was working with, but today I felt too drained. I looked around the room for any sgn of life suggesting the shoot would start soon.

‘I did get that right didn’t I boys’ Frankie again pointed and named the boys who smiled and nodded, confirming he guessed that name correctly, ‘ Only there is 5 members isn’t there? One running late?

‘Yeah that’s Harry’, Louis spoke up, ‘he’s just lagging behind, he had to take a phone call’, Louis looked me for the first time straight in the eye before smiling and saying,’ He shouldn’t be too long our Haz’.

‘We must apologies in advance for Harrys behaviour today, he’s going through a pretty rough time at the minute’ said Niall, glancing over his shoulder at the door, ‘He wouldn’t like me saying this, but yeah, he’s not usually this unsociable when it comes to these things’.

An excruciating pain in my waist distracted me from the conversation. The biggest bruise I bared ached against my flesh and it felt like a roaring fire and I could hide the pain no more. Feeling my face giving my emotions away I excused myself from the boys, in admittedly not the smoothest of ways.

‘My teas cold’ I stated, like a baby, pointing at my costa cup. Frankie stared at me in a ‘what the fuck did you just say manor’ as I continued

‘I’ll urm, just go find a bin’. I dashed out the room and headed down the corridor in search for the bathroom, hoping the Vogue team wouldn’t be starting for a while to allow myself ten minutes escapism. The pain in my waist suddenly roared and pulsed, so severe I felt sick. I felt my body give up against the pain as I felt myself fighting to stay conscious.

‘Hey will you watch where the fuck you’re going!’ A harsh voice made me alert,’ fuck sake, look what you’ve done to my top, I’ve got a fucking photo shoot!’ I stared at this boy who looked back at me with a tone similar to a murderer, hatred in his eyes. His top was sopping wet with a fresh tea stain on, my cup lying guilty on the floor.

‘Aw Christ sake’ he yellowed reaching in his pocket. For a second, when he reached his arm out, I was brought back to last night, when the man I loved raised his arm to me. My waist ached with pain, and a reflex was to flinch away from him, stepping as far back as possible. Instantly the anger left his face and was replaced by a confused look.

‘wo- wo –wo, whats happening here’ I heard Louis voice and the sound of running footsteps emerge, ‘Harry was that you shouting? Fuck your tops dripping mate’. Louis looked at the empty cup on the floor then glanced to me, then Harrys shirt.

‘Ah, I see. Harry there was no need to be so rude’

‘Yeah mate, I know you’ve had a bad day, but don’t take it out on Phillipa’, Niall said, putting an arm around my shoulder. I refrained myself from wincing this time and glanced up to catch the boys eye that I spilled my tea on. This boy called Harry. I dared glance at him, and realised what all the hype about him was. I looked directly in his eyes, and they had softened, I noticed they were a brilliant green.

‘Haz, this is Phillipa, she’s going to be in our photo-shoot today’ Louis said tapping Harrys back, ‘I think you should apologise to her mate’. Harry shuffled slightly on his feet, before pulling his hand through his wave of curls.

‘Hello Phillipa, I’m Harry Styles and I’m sorry’ Niall squeezed my shoulder and smiled, obviously feeling easier that the tension had diffused.

‘Hello Harry, Im Phillipa Oakley, and its okay”

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