Caroline Flack's Daughter

“What the fuck?” I gasped.
“Shhhh. Will you please do it?” Paul shushed. Mom had a twinkle in her eyes.
“Hell no. Nope. No way. Not ever. No.” I shoved my chair in the table. Then Mom grabbed my wrist.
“Look, Amanda. I’m sorry. Really, I am. But please do this for me. Please.” She begged.
“Fuck. No. I am not pretending to be some dick’s girlfriend because my mom is… a slut!” As much as it hurt to say it, it escaped from my lips. She gasped. Tears rolled down my face.
“Amanda…” She sobbed. She fell to her knees. I hated seeing my mom like that. Hated it. She was practically begging me.
“Mom. I’ll do it. If you would please stop crying.” I whined. She looked up at me and smiled.
And that's what happened. That day, I had to go out with Harry Styles because my mom is 34 years old. Management said it would be a bad idea for my mom to go out with Harry. He's 20. She's 34. I'm 18. So now, to protect my mother's identity, I have to fake go out with Harry Styles. So my mom can hang out with him too. It sucks.
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"Hey gorgeous." Harry smiled to my mom before planting a kiss on her lips. I cringed.
"I'm doing this for my mom, dickhead. Not you." I hissed. He smirked.
"Guys get out there! The fans are waiting." Paul hurried us out. I linked my arm with Harry's and we walked out to the arrival of screaming girls.
"Ugh. No way." I said, trying to turn back. He tightened his grip.
"Harry are you and Amanda Flack dating?" The paparazzi came up and asked. He smiled.
"Kiss me." He whispered in my ear.
"Go fuck yourself. No." I whispered back. I smiled at the camera.
"Yes were dating." I grinned cheesily. They snapped pictures.
"Amanda could you kiss Harry?" One reporter begged.
"Sorry. No."
"Please? It would be a great cover for the magazine."
I sighed. Then I stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek.
"Happy now?"
"I meant on the lips? Could you guys snog."
"Fuck. No. Take me back ,Harry." We turned around and walked back up the red carpet.

Notes

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