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Scarlett’s POV
I was standing between Elise and Ryan from Up-Down. Nicole, who was both mine and Elise’s mentor, stood slightly behind the two of us, her hands one each of our backs. She rubbed mine lightly in a futile attempt to calm my nerves. I kept on my best stage smile and beamed out into the crowd. I couldn’t see them, of course, as the lights were too bright, but I pretended, waving a bit to a few places where I saw some movement.
“And the first contestant going to the finals is…Elise Lane!” The voice echoed through my head a dozen times before it registered, and my heart fell. I’d always known that it was either me or Elise going to the end. We were the two strongest in the girls’ category of the competition. I knew that we could, conceivably, both go through, but I just didn’t think it likely. Elise screamed and hugged Nicole, then me. I gladly wrapped my arms around her. I was going to be a good sport about losing. As I released her, she said a few words to Dermot and ran to the spot on the other side of the stage. Nicole stayed with me. I glanced over to my left, offstage and saw Harry and Liam. Liam was grimacing, but Harry gave me a huge smile that calmed my nerves. I had to tear my gaze away from him and his deep green eyes. Eyes that I could get lost in.
My heart fluttered, and I was broken out of my reverie by the announcer. “The second act going to the finals is…Up-Down!” My heart sank even further in my chest. They answered a few questions from Dermot, the host, and stood next to Elise with their mentor Tulisa, who was congratulating them. I looked over at Brett, hoping to catch his eye, but his were closed. I turned back to the crowd and gave another smile, smoothing my dress.
“And our third and last contestant going to the finals…is…” My heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through my veins. I glanced to the side and saw Harry, eyes closed, fingers crossed, his face tilted slightly upward. Niall had appeared, and he also had his eyes squeezed shut, mumbling something to himself that looked suspiciously like “Please.” I felt a shy smile come to my face, knowing that they were hoping for me, and a rush of happiness surged through me that had only half to do with the words that I heard boom through the auditorium next. “Scarlett Cross!” I stood unbelieving, taking everything in in flashes.
Nicole screaming and hugging me.
Brett giving me a labored smile.
Me throwing my arms around him.
Dermot clapping me on the back.
Harry giving me that smirk, clapping.
Niall whooping, practically running onstage.
Niall, again, yelling into a stolen microphone, “Congrats, Scar!” over the cheers.
My head didn’t clear until I was offstage, done for the night. It had been about an hour since my name had been called, and I still felt the tingles rushing down my spine. I spotted Harry and Niall chatting, leaning on the wall next to the exit. Niall saw me and waved, giving me the largest smile I’d ever seen. I started walking towards them, but stopped when I heard a voice. “Scar.”
I whirled around to see Brett, and, without hesitation, threw my arms around him. “Hey, Brett.”
“Congratulations.” He said.
“Thanks.” I answered.
“I—I’m sorry, Scar, I just really have to do this.” I was about to ask what he was talking about when he pressed his lips against mine. I heard Niall from behind me. “What the fuck?” I tore myself away from Brett, but not after kissing him back, if only for a moment or two. I couldn’t help myself—I, also, had wanted to at least know what kissing him would be like. It had been a good ten seconds when I had come to my senses and pulled away.
I swallowed. “Don’t apologize.”
“I just wanted to know if you’d kiss me back.”
“Look, Brett, I—”
“No, Scar, I know you like Niall. It’s fine. He’s a lucky lad.”
“No, I don’t.” I lowered my voice. “Maybe Harry, though.”
He gave me a half smile. “No, Scar, you like Niall.”
I rolled my eyes and punched his shoulder. “Whatever, dad.”
He gave me a final peck on the cheek. “I have to go. We’ll hang out again, sometime, right?” I nodded, and he smiled. “Good. It’s been a pleasure being in this competition with you, Scarlett Cross.”
I mimed tipping a hat as he turned to go. “You as well, Brett Daniels. Never let go!” I yelled after him, quoting one of our mutual favorite movies, Titanic.
“I won’t, Rose!” He yelled back, and then he was gone. I turned, smiling, to walk over to Harry and Niall. Niall was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, looking away. Harry had his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Way to get all touchy-feely right in front of us, Scar.” Harry said, his trademark smirk on as I reached them.
“Shut up, Harry. We just kissed.”
“Hmm. There’s definite sexual tension there.” I slapped him with my purse. I stretched my back a bit, yawning, thankful that I had changed into the outfit I’d brought this morning—my galaxy tights and black tank top—as it was far more comfortable. The outfit that Harry had called hot. I shivered, just remembering what had happened in his and Louis’ dressing room.
“Ready to go, Nialler?” Harry asked. Niall nodded and looked at me with a slight frown. I’ll be honest—it hurt. Something about him made me get attached quickly, and I didn’t want him to be mad at me. I didn’t understand why he was mad at me, but I could figure that out later. Whatever it was, I’d only known him for a week and I just wanted to be his best friend.
“Alright. Paul sent someone with a car. They should be waiting outside, but they’re almost a block away.”
We left and I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering from the cold. Niall muttered something and, in one swift motion, took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. “Niall, you don’t have to—”
He gave me a tight lipped smile. “Just keep it.” I fell into step next to him, behind Harry.
“Why are you mad?”
“Because you kissed him.”
“I don’t see why you should be mad about that.”
“Look, Scar, I know it’s not my business, you’re right. But you said that you didn’t like him. So why kiss him?”
“He kissed me.”
“Maybe he initiated it, but you didn’t pull away.”
“But why does that bother you? It was just a kiss, Niall.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s just…I don’t know. Forget about it.”
“Scarlett, he’s just upset that Brett got to kiss a really fit girl and he didn’t. Don’t mind him.” Harry sounded from in front of us. Niall shoved the back of his head. “Shut up, Haz.”
Niall turned back to me and finally smiled, tugging on a lock of my hair. “Congratulations. You’re going to the finals.”
I felt the tingles come back—probably from a combination of Niall’s gesture and the fact that I was through to the next round. My thoughts drifted to my parents, and I considered calling them. I wanted them to watch. I didn’t want them to hate me for this. I just wanted their support. “I know. I can’t believe it. I didn’t expect it at all.”
“Hey, you deserve it.” Niall wrapped his arm around me briefly in a sort of side hug. I smiled up at him, and for a moment I was looking right into his eyes. The moment ended as quickly as it started. We finally reached the car and I piled in the middle seat. This one had three seats in the middle, and Harry and Niall insisted upon sitting on either side of me. I had been chatting with Harry when I heard my phone buzz. I pulled it out and saw that Niall had mentioned me in a tweet. I looked at him and rolled my eyes. “I’m right here, blondie. You could just say it to me rather than put it on the internet.”
“What? Afraid of more Niallet shippers?” He asked with his eyebrows raised and a laugh on his lips.
I ignored him and opened up my phone while Harry said, “Maybe if you two stopped talking about doing it then people would stop thinking you’re a couple.”
“Fuck off, Harry.” Niall and I answered at the same time. I looked up at him, grinning, and we high-fived. “Score one for Team Niallet!” Niall laughed.
“Gosh, I fucking wonder why people think you’re dating. You’ve known each other a week and you’re already like an old married couple.”
“Correction, Harry: he’s my boyfriend and ex-fiancé. But we’re not dating.”
I looked at my phone and saw what Niall had tweeted.

@NiallOfficial: Congrats @Scar_Cross for making it to the finals of @TheXFactor! You deserve it Scar !

I tweeted back at him, surprised by the huge increase in followers I had, which I assumed was due to my conversation with Niall—I had almost 10 thousand new followers.

@Scar_Cross: Thanks @NiallOfficial! You did amazing as well :) ow!

I had gone with a message that he couldn’t really respond to. No reason to give the shippers extra fuel. If anyone got pictures of us tonight it would certainly be enough for that. No need to make it worse.
***
From: Harry
Come down to the lobby. Now.

I groaned and sat up. I had been lying in bed, half watching TV, half on my phone. It was two in the morning, and I was tired. I’d been having trouble falling asleep. I’d gotten back from ice cream with Harry and Niall at midnight and had come upstairs. I was so jittery that I couldn’t nod off, so I had just changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and tied my hair up above my head and relaxed. I was just on Twitter when my phone vibrated with a text from Harry. I decided to comply, because, what the hell. If a member of a famous boy band texts you and tells you to meet him somewhere in the middle of the night, you do as he says. I grabbed my key and padded over to the lift. I was glad that the contestants weren’t in a house together this year, because it made it far easier to sneak out. They didn’t even bother having guards to make sure we stayed in bed. I pressed the button on the elevator and yawned. Of course now I was getting tired.
The lift came quickly, most likely because no one normal was using it at this hour, and I stepped in, staring at my reflection in the polished gold paneling. My thoughts drifted back to uni. I wondered what classes I was missing, what my friends were doing. How different my life would be if I hadn’t gone for the show, or if I had been turned away in that first round. The elevator dinged, interrupting my thoughts, signaling that I was on the first floor. I walked out and around the corner into the swanky lobby. Harry was sitting in one of the red plush chairs around the fireplace. I saw the back of his head, his curly hair, as always, disheveled and ridiculously sexy.
I shook my head. Ridiculously sexy? I thought to myself. Scarlett Cross, you are not seriously falling for international pop superstar Harry Styles. “Hey.” I said as I reached him.
He turned around and it was only then that I realized he was absolutely hammered. I felt my heart sink a bit, stupidly, at that. I was starting to feel like this was a booty call. His face lit up. “Oh, hey, Scar.”
“Care to explain why you called me down into the lobby of my hotel at three in the morning?”
“Yeah, I was just—oh wow, you look really nice.” Yep, definitely a booty call.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He knitted his eyebrows together. “Why are you so mad? Anyway, I came over to say hi.” He looked at the ground, now, and blushed. “Also, I’m pretty far from my flat, and I can’t call anyone at management to pick me up, because they’ll kill me for being out so late.”
“Why can’t you call a taxi?”
“I’m not allowed, not when I’m on my own.” I raised my eyebrows. “Something about it being dangerous.” He added.
It dawned on me why he was here. He was, even in his drunken state, too polite to ask it outright. “You want to sleep here.” He nodded shyly. “Harry, I’m not sleeping with you.”
His eyes widened before a smirk grew on his face. “That’s not what I meant, but you know, I wouldn’t be opposed…”
“Not a chance, fuckface.” Even though he really did have a pretty decent chance of wooing me, at some point—especially with those eyes of his—I was definitely not going to have sex with him tonight. I’d tried the ‘drunken hookup with the guy that I don’t really know’ before, and it had been a bad idea.
He raised his hands in defeat. “I’m joking, Scar.”
“Really, Mr. I’ve-slept-with-dozens-of-girls?” I hadn’t meant to say something so mean, but it had slipped out. I saw the hurt in his eyes.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” He started to stand up and walked slowly towards the door. After a moment, I ran over and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Scar, I told you that I’m not what they make me out to be. It’s not true.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I just thought—” As I spoke, realization dawned on his face, and he cut me off.
“You thought that I was just here to fuck you again, didn’t you?” He spoke quietly at first, gaining volume with every word. “I told you that’s not fucking true, Scarlett!” He was yelling at the end, and the woman at the desk looked over at us. I gave her a wave and she looked back down at her computer, obviously keeping an eye on us.
“I’m sorry, Harry, okay? You’re right, I did. I don’t know why, you haven’t given me any reason to, have you. I’m sorry. It’s perfectly alright with me if you sleep here.”
He stared at me for a moment. “Okay. Fine.”
“Or, I can ride with you in a taxi back to your flat, if you really don’t want to stay with me, which to be honest, I’d understand.”
“No, I want to stay here.” I nodded and we started walking over to the lift. His thumb hit the button, and I found myself staring at his hands. They were larger than normal, and somehow seemed so…perfect. The perfect cross between soft and rough.
“Scarlett, are you staring at my hands?”
I blushed. “Lost in thought, I guess. I thought you were drunk. You don’t seem drunk at all.”
“We discussed this. I handle my alcohol pretty well.” We rode in silence the rest of the way up, stepping out onto the carpet of the sixteenth floor. We finally reached my room, and I felt my heart pounding a bit. I opened up the door and we walked in.
“Um, so…” I started to say, but trailed off.
“I’m not really all that tired, if you’re not.”
“No, not especially.” I answered, gulping. I decided to act normal and I flopped down on the bed, switching on the TV and pulling out my phone. There was only one bed in my room, and he seemed unsure of what to do. “You can sit down, or whatever.” I motioned to the bed. He tentatively sat down, putting his feet up on it and resting his back against the headboard, watching the BBC show that was on.
I was lying down, holding my phone above me and scrolling through my Twitter mentions—most of which had something to do with Niall and I—trying not to think about Harry. It wasn’t an overly large bed, just queen size, and neither of us were exactly on the edge of it, so we were quite close to each other.
“Why do you always assume I want to fuck you?”
The question came out of nowhere, only about five minutes after we got into the room. I had heard perfectly clearly, but I still answered, “What?”
“You know. Why do you always assume that I want to fuck you? Well, I guess that’s bad phrasing, because you’re a very attractive girl, so of course I want to, but that’s not all. I want to be your friend.”
“You are my friend.”
“Yeah, but you don’t even trust me enough to not have my way with you. I wouldn’t, just so you know.”
“I guess…it’s the way you’re always smirking. Sort of the cocky little smile that you always have. And how it’s true that you could have almost any girl you wanted. And when you text me, drunk, at three in the morning, telling me to come meet up with you, it seems a lot like you want to hook up.”
“Oh. That actually makes sense.”
“See. I’m not a complete arse.”
His hand snaked out and rubbed my shoulder. “You’re not an arse.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I said. All of a sudden, he grabbed my phone out of my hands, placing it on the nightstand next to him. I dropped my hands to my chest and huffed. “Well.”
“Sorry. I just want to have a conversation.”
A slight smile touched my lips. “You could have asked.”
“Yeah, but that was a lot more fun.”
I rolled my eyes. “So what did you want to talk about, hotshot?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Trousers. Curtains. Lamps. Fucking chairs for all I care. I just like talking to you.”
“See, I actually like drunk Harry. Because sober Harry wouldn’t have the balls to actually outright say that. He’d be all flirty about it.”
He mocked offense. “Sober Harry would so have the balls for that. Except sober Harry knows that…never mind.” I raised my eyebrows. “No, Scarlett, I’m not going to tell you, so don’t give me that look.” I sighed and hoisted myself up.
“I’m going to go take my hair down.” I said, wanting something to do. I walked over to the bathroom and pulled my hair out of its bun, fixing it so it didn’t look too awful. As I walked back I tripped and grabbed Harry’s leg to stop myself from falling. “Oh, that’s fucking fantastic.” I mumbled before standing up and releasing him. The ever-present smirk was, of course, on his face.
“You could have asked. You know, if you wanted to grope me so much.”
“That wasn’t groping, Styles. I’m a bit tired, are you?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Okay. I’ll grab the spare sheets from the closet. I’ll sleep on the floor and you can have the bed.”
“No, it’s fine, you can be in the bed.”
“Harry, I’m not having you sleep on the floor.”
“I wouldn’t be. I mean, like, you…and me…in the bed…together.” He smirked and raised his eyebrows.
“And you wonder why…never mind. There’s no use arguing with you so I’m not going to dispute that.” I sighed. He stood up and started to take off his shirt. I was speechless for a moment when I saw him tugging at the waistband of his trousers. He pulled them off, leaving him in just his boxers. He started to take those off, too. “No!” I yelped. “Um, sorry. Harry, if we’re sleeping in the same bed, you’re wearing boxers.”
“Come on, Scar!” He whined.
“Boxers.”
“Fine.”
We stood awkwardly for a while before I sighed. “Okay. Um, I’ll just get in.” I climbed into the bed and positioned myself under the blankets, feeling him do the same. I reached over and turned off the lamp on my nightstand, plunging the room into darkness. Neither of us had moved for a solid five minutes when I felt his hand move over and tug at my side. “You’re all the way over there.” He whispered, and pulled me towards him. I felt his body behind mine, not touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat coming off his chest. My heart was fluttering, adrenaline making it impossible for me to even think about sleep. I thought that he was done when I felt his hair tickle the side of my face. His lips were right next to my ear, brushing the skin as they pushed out slightly while he talked. “Come on, Scar. I know you’re awake.” I felt him brush his lips right behind my ear, and I gasped. He laughed lightly. “I knew it. Come closer to me.” I tried to resist, but I couldn’t. I rolled over so that I was facing him, and through the movement, I ended up with my face just centimeters from his. “Hi, Harry. What do you need?”
“Nothing.” I sighed and rolled back over, so we were facing the same direction. His lips brushed lightly against my neck “You’re drunk, Harry.” I mumbled, making no effort to pull away from him.
“You said earlier, Scar, that you could pull away whenever you wanted. Prove it.” I gulped and scooted away from him, freeing myself from his arms. “You’re drunk, Harry.” I repeated. All I could think about was his naked chest, rising and falling behind me.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Go to sleep.”
He sighed. “I won’t unless you come back over here.”
“You were the one who told me to go away.” I whispered.
“I…I didn’t think you would. Please just come back here. I get needy when I’m drunk.” I didn’t bother to argue that he’d just denied being drunk. I stayed where I was.
He sighed again. “I’m coming to you, then.” He moved over to me and wrapped an arm around my waist. I felt his bare chest behind me, and one of his hands snaked up and stroked my hair once. “You’re drunk, Harry.” I whispered one last time before drifting into sleep.

Notes

I hope you like it! If you do, it would be awesome if you left a review. Just sayin'.

Do it. Do it for Niall and a puppy. Niall and the puppy want you to leave a review.
Sorry for being such a review whore - I just like em'. Haha.