*** I CHANGED VIOLET'S NAME TO MIA. I THINK IT SUITS HER BETTER. OPINIONS?

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  mia

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  Needless to say, waking up in Harry's bed the next morning was very confusing.

  There was sunlight streaming in the open window and the bed I was in was completely unmade because of the tossing and turning I usually do in my sleep. I tried to remember of how I must've gotten in here last night, but all I remembered was falling asleep on the couch.

  Had I walked here in my sleep?

  The mortifying thought made me cringe. How embarrassing would it be to have to explain to a famous boyband member that you accidentally hopped into bed with him? Thankfully, I hadn't sleepwalked in years, so I decided to myself that wasn't even an option.

  When I unlocked my phone, something I do routinely every morning, my stomach churned. I had still been receiving texts from my persistent family and ex-fiance, all of which were telling me to "come back home." Some of the ones from Matthew were threatening and contained colorful language, so I deleted them all without a second thought. Since I had already gotten this far in my little escape, it would probably make sense to change out my sim card.

  I got out of bed with a loud yawn and walked out to the main part of the tour bus, where Harry was making what looked like to be oatmeal in the kitchen. Despite my thoughts telling me to act natural even though I woke up in this man's bed, I immediately blushed a furious shade of pink.

  "Um... hi." I said. 

  "Good morning!" He grinned, walking over to me and embracing me in a big hug. I molded into his big frame, feeling a lot better about the whole waking-up-in-Harry-Styles'-bed thing since he wasn't acting uncomfortable about it. How do I approach him about this without ending up acting like an awkward 12 year old boy?

  "So, I woke up in your bed this morning." I made it sound more like a question than an actual statement.

  "Yeah, about that." He giggled. "I couldn't help but notice you toss and turn around a lot last night, so I carried you to the bed and slept on the couch. And I wasn't watching you or anything, it was when I had to piss in the middle of the night."

  "Oh." I smiled. "Well, I have a bad back, so thank you." 

  "You should have told me yesterday!" Harry exclaimed. "Plus, the couch is very comfortable for me, anyways. It wasn't a problem." I nodded and walked past him to the fridge, where I got out some orange juice and poured it for myself. 

  "So, today we will be continuing our journey to the Statue of Liberty." Harry announced. "We're about two hours away from the city, and then we'll get to Lady Liberty by boat, and then we'll go up to the crown."

  "Sounds like a plan." I nodded, taking a gulp of my orange juice. I pulled a face when I realized that it was loaded with pulp and I spit it back into the cup in disgust. If there wasn't anything I hated more, it was the pulp from orange juice. 

  "Are you okay?" Harry asked. His face looked extremely concerned as he grabbed the carton of orange juice that I had gotten my drink from and read the expiration date. "This isn't expired or anything, is there something wrong? Are you allergic to something?"

  "I hate pulp." I coughed, pushing the cup away from me. "That was awful."

  Harry's face broke out into a goofy grin as he laughed at me.

  "That's what that was all about?" He laughed. "It's just pulp! All it is is pieces from the orange! How can you not like pulp in your orange juice?"

  "It makes me wanna throw up." I shook my head rapidly. "That stuff is literally the spawn of Satan in orange pulp form."

  Harry sat beside me at the little kitchenette table that I had been at and took my glass away from me before chugging it down within a few gulps. When he was finished, he wiped his hand on his mouth and laughed at me because I most likely looked absolutely horrified.

  "I'll tell you what." He began. "I'm going to fill a little shot glass up with this orange juice, and if you can drink it, I'll give you a hundred dollar bill. Got it? We're going to get over your fear of pulp." 

  "Never." I insisted. "Never, never, ever."

  Ten minutes later, I was laying back on the recliner with Harry Styles hovering over me with a shot glass filled with orange juice. Somehow, someway, by naming all the things that I could do with one hundred dollars, he had convinced me to go through with this. There was a big bucket sitting next to me in case I threw it up, and on my other side was a hundred dollar bill.

  "How about you just give me the hundred for effort?" I squeaked, looking up at the cup of orange juice. He shot me a wicked grin and shook his head rapidly.

  "You have to drink every drop of this orange juice and then you can have my money." 

  "Or you could just be my sugar daddy and give me the money." I blurted.

  Harry threw his head back and laughed at me, almost causing the orange juice to spill from the small glass. We had only known each other for a very strange twenty four hours and this was just how we bonded, I guess. If you had told me two days ago that Harry Styles would be paying me to drink orange juice with pulp I would have probably laughed, but now here I was. 

  "You ready?" He asked.

  "I think." I said nervously. "Okay, hand it to me." 

  "What's the fun in that?" He asked. "I get to hold it." 

  "Fine." I grumbled. "Let's get this over with." 

  "Okay, let's do a countdown." Harry instructed. "Five... four... three.... two.... one!"

  As quickly as I possibly could, I downed the orange juice. The slimy pulp almost immediately triggered my gag reflexes and I covered my mouth. Harry ran to the kitchen, got me a glass of water, and gave it to me almost instantaneously so that I could wash it down.

  "I just saw my life flash before my eyes." I said breathlessly. 

  "Well, now you've gained yourself one hundred dollars, fair and square." Harry said, handing me the bill which I gladly took. The mere thought that I had just gone through that made me literally almost gag, but then the thought of how many Chicken McNuggets I could buy with this made me feel a lot better.

  After that whole traumatizing fiasco and brushing my teeth twice to get all of the remaining pulp out of my mouth, I dismissed myself to the small bathroom and got a shower. It took me a half an hour to get completely ready, mostly because I didn't want to get out of the shower, and Harry had knocked on the door at least ten times to ask when I was going to get out.

  "Give me like three minutes! Getting ready is a process!" I called out, feeling a little bad.

  Fifteen minutes later, Harry pulled us out of the parking lot and we were on the road again. I was the designated "GPS reader", so whenever Harry would almost miss I turn I would yell for him to swerve over. It probably wasn't the safest thing to do on a major highway, but so far we had made it out alive. 

  "According to this, it says we'll get there in an hour and forty five minutes." I sighed, pulling the blanket I had on my lap around my shoulders. "Do we have specific reservations for this thing?" 

  "No, but we'll be fine. They know I'm coming sometime today." Harry said, going over a lane. Being in a tour bus was a weird feeling- every other car was so far below you that you felt like you could see everything that was going on. It was really cool, but also a bit frightening.

  "I thought that they didn't let people up at the crown anymore?" I frowned.

  "You're right," He began. "The general public isn't allowed up there, but with special permission you can. We'll have our own personal tour guide and strict rules to follow as we go up."

  I nodded and reclined my seat a bit so that I was more comfortable.

  "So," I sighed. "How is it that you can take such a long vacation from work? I thought that you would always be so busy doing what you do." 

  "I am." Harry smiled. "But since Zayn left and our last tour has ended, we've been given an extended break before we record some of the last songs on our newer album. And we have to write just a few more, so I decided to take a road trip for some inspiration. Plus, I've always loved America." He explained. 

  "Oh." I said. "Do you still talk to Zayn regularly?"

  Harry glanced over and smirked at me, keeping his focus on me for only a few seconds before returning his eyes onto the road. I was worried that I was prying to much, but if we were going to be together like this for so long I wanted to know a little bit about him.

  "You sure you don't work for any magazines?" He teased.

  "Oh shoot, you got me." I said sarcastically, raising my hands in surrender.

  "If I'm being quite honest; no. I haven't talked to Zayn in a few weeks, and even then it was pretty brief. He's doing his own thing, we're doing our own thing, but that doesn't mean that I don't like him. What he did took a lot of courage and I'll be proud of him through whatever he decides to do, really." I smiled at how genuine his answer was.

  "And if it makes you feel any better, Naughty Boy looks like a greasy chicken wing from KFC." I giggled. This comment caused Harry to roar with laughter as he tried to keep his focus on the road.

  "That was a good one." He remarked. "A few weeks ago, Louis got in a twitter fight with him. It was the funniest thing ever."

"I'll have to stalk his Twitter later." I smiled.

"M'pretty sure you weren't supposed to say that out loud." He noted. I shrugged and pulled the blanket that was wrapped around me to my chin. I had been rather chilly ever since I had gotten out of the shower.

We sat in silence for a good fifteen minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable like I had pictured, instead, it was rather soothing. I was looking forward to climbing the Statue of Liberty, despite my nervousness about heights. If I could run away from my own wedding with the help of a famous boy band member, I was sure that I could climb some giant green woman.

Biting my lip, I unlocked my phone and went through the messages I had gotten. Not only had I gotten several from family members, but also from old high school friends wondering what was up. Everyone seemed to know about the wedding it seemed, and everyone wanted to know why I fled and where I had fled to. As badly as I wanted to reassure some of my more trustworthy friends, I decided that it was best not to risk it.

I noticed that a few of the many text messages were links to things. I debated whether or not I should click those links, because I knew by now someone from the press had picked up on the story and written something about it. Just because you might not read it doesn't mean that it'll go away. You might as well. I wrestled with my subconscious for a good thirty seconds before clicking the link.

Sure enough, it was an article about the wedding. I rolled my eyes in disgust at whoever wrote it and rubbed my temples. Not only was there an article, but there were several more articles and pictures to go along and it was already making me develop a headache.

"Something wrong?" Harry asked.

"People are writing things." I murmured. "I can't even."

"So you're a bit famous in your own way, then." Harry concluded.

"Well, not necessarily because I did anything." I explained. "It's just because of my father's company. It's like how the Kardashian sisters are famous because of Kim's sex tape, only not as upscale. And there is no sex tape involved whatsoever."

"I understand." Harry chuckled.

And for once, I felt like someone actually did.

"Look," Harry said, pointing to our right. I peered out the window to see a bunch of skyscrapers in the distance and I smiled.

"Time to climb inside a giant green lady."

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 a/n:

 fun fact: i wrote half of this chapter thinking about orange juice