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I can feel my cheeks burning and I wonder if he's as embarrassed as I am. My arms are still partially frozen in the air, my t-shirt hanging shamelessly in my hands like a trophy.

In moments like this, it can only go one of two ways: I scream and he runs into the distance, or we suddenly have a steamy make-out session. He does neither, though, and what happens next almost has me burying myself a grave as we speak.

He points, and he laughs.

If you haven't guessed already, this is the part of the story where I die inside– I mean, who wouldn't? If this was a stranger, someone I didn't know, it would probably be different. I'd of course be embarrassed, but with a stranger you don't have to see them again; strangers just part ways and maybe even laugh about it later on. It's not that much of a big deal. Because the difference with strangers is that you don't have to live with it for the rest of your educational days...

Unfortunately for me, this isn't a stranger. In fact, this is Harry Styles.

Who is this, you ask? Harry styles is by-far the most popular, most arrogant male you will ever meet in your lifetime. Yes, he's beautiful in all the ways you can define it, but despite this and his golden reputation, I've personally always thought that he was pretty average– not that I'm saying that his array of basketball awards and his collection of people swooning at his very feet is exactly average, but you know what I mean.

The point is, if I didn't like Harry Styles before– I definitely do not like him now.

I quickly pull my shirt to my chest, grabbing my bag and running out of the bathroom. I shuffle past him in the process and he's leaning on the door frame for support, holding onto his stomach as if it's causing him physical pain to hysterically laugh in my face.

I manoeuvre around the house, avoiding anyone seeing me, what a sight I must be...

I open a door. However, this room is obviously occupied. "Ah!" I scream and cover my eyes, quickly slamming the door behind me. I rush into the room opposite, thankfully this one is actually empty this time.

Leaning against the wall, I cover my eyes. I can hear the party downstairs, music louder than ever, cannonballs into the pool, girls squealing as boys threaten to throw them in.

How do I get over something like this? I wouldn't be nearly as mortified as I am now if not for the colourful selection of Care Bear's all over my bra. I bet no other girls at this party wear babyish underwear like that, they instead wear sexy, lacy ensembles, or a bright, skimpy bikini.

I flop back onto the bed. My head is pounding, I'm not too sure if that's thanks to the blaring music or to the fact that Harry Styles just got a dazzling show, featuring my bra.

This is the lowest point of my life.

It's t's safe to say I've had my serving of humiliation for tonight. God forbid something happens like this again, I'd surely die of embarrassment.

Notes

for some reason the prologue just isn't working out for me? i guess it doesn't affect much of the story since it's set 3 years ago but i think i might grow to love it, i'm not sure...

please give feedback, it's always helpful! thank you (:

-GV