GOTTA BE YOU
Summary: Bambi Aerith was an upcoming fashion model and actress working really hard to find her place in the industry. This is until she was advised to meet and befriend the One Direction boys and fell hopeless in love with Harry Styles, the boy who was able to take off her carefully applied mask.
CHAPTER THREE
She had exactly three hours and fifteen minutes left to shower, get ready and be at the photo shoot. Thankfully, the industry rule was that a model should never arrive to a photo shoot or filming with her hair or make up done. Bambi stepped into her shower, the hot water running other her body, and watched the glass steam up.
She had a nice house, she couldn't deny. It was bought for her by her first 'big name' boyfriend who was actually born into wealth and, it appeared, liked to shower his girlfriends with an endless supply of things. If anything, he probably never loved her any more than she loved him, but he knew he would look a lot better on the red carpet with a trophy girl on his arm. However amongst the designer clothes, jewelry, sports cars or even the star he had named after her, there was nothing more extravagant than the huge, split story house he had bought for her. The interior was incredibly modern, with only the latest in Japanese electronics. On her walls were framed fashion portraits from Vogue and her vast yard extended to a paddock and a barn for her two beautiful mares, Hope and Faith.
However, it felt like she was never at home in the richness of the place, it had always felt cold to her compared to the supermarket table cloths and old couches of her family home. Her only comfort were the family albums and private photos that she kept by her bed side and the little drawing that her baby sister gave her two Christmases ago.
When she stepped out of the shower, she examined herself in the mirror – her breasts sat perkily, and her waist was still small as ever. Her hip bones stuck out clearly and her thigh gap was still very much evident. Bambi thought about the seven vodka raspberries she was reportedly downed (or had she ended up ordering a different drink? Baileys and milk perhaps?) and felt like her stomach was suddenly hanging a lot more, her arms looked a bit flabbier and one side of her face seemed puffier than the other. She stepped on the digital scale, closing her eyes as though she was terrified of the number.
99lbs.
Perfect, she was still perfect.
Bambi smiled as she got dressed, putting on a pair of dark skinny jeans and a white singlet, then pulled a can of Diet Coke from her fridge. Her phone vibrated once again and she peered at the screen. Off to work she went.
Hey Bambs. That kiss was amazing, I miss you already. Can I see you again tonight?
Bambs you little kid. Doin anything tonight?
R U busy 2Nite?
Bambi, I don't know how to text you after that kiss.. I –
Harry groaned as he erased the text message for the fourth time. He just didn't know what to say to her. It felt odd because his whole life he had always been the sweet talker, the flirt, the one to make the first move. Talking to girls had always come easily for him, but for some reason a simple thing like asking her to come watch a movie with him and the lads was just so darned difficult.
"Did you send it yet?" asked Louis, jumping over the couch to sit beside him, "Is she coming? Did she reply yet?" He peeked over to the blank text message and sighed.
Harry hit him across the head, "Don't you sigh at me, Louis. I just haven't figured out how to ask her yet."
"Why don't you just say, 'Hi Bambi, want to come over tomorrow?'" asked Zayn, rolling his eyes.
"That's too casual for Harry," said Liam, "You know he likes to be a toothache sometimes."
"I have an idea!" cried Niall, snatching Harry's phone off him. He quickly typed a few letters, jumping up on the couch to avoid Harry attacking him, "Just. Let. Me. Type."
Harry pulled it off him before he sent the text.
RU3429?
"What does that mean?" asked Liam, confused, as he peeked over Harry's shoulder.
"RU3429 means 'Are You Free For Tonight'" stated Niall, smiled proudly.
Harry jokingly threw a pillow at him as he left for his room, protecting his phone, "Does she look like a booty call to you? You idiot. I'm going to text her in private."
Hey Bambs,
He started typing, sitting on his bed with its dark blue sheets, the light leaking through heavy curtains. Harry paused, unsure of what to ask next. Should he mention the kiss? Should he tell her that he hadn't stopped thinking about her since she left? Or maybe he should start with how gorgeous she looked wrapped up in his jumper, and how much it made him want to-
No, maybe not that.
Hey Bambs, how's the photoshoot going? The lads are pretty keen to have you back over for movies tomorrow night. Not me though, I figured you would just come and steal another hoodie, but what makes them happy. LOL I'm joking. Anyway, are you free? Harry x.
He read it repeatedly a few times before hitting the send button, content that it was not too casual or flirty enough to make their unexpected kiss this morning awkward.
Whoever had told her that becoming a supermodel would make her the luckiest girl alive had definitely never been a model, she thought as she sat in the makeup chair. The artists flittered around her, painting her face until she could barely recognize herself and teasing her hair while she prayed that they would give up and choose to use a wig instead. There were whispers around her that she should have ignored but that she found impossible to: the hair stylists were complaining about the texture of her hair, her skin was just not bright enough and her pores bigger than they remembered. She also had that dreaded scar.
It was weird, sitting in a chair forced to trust people with your appearance when all they could talk about were the problems they were having with it.
"Is she ready?" called the photographer's PA from the doorway of the trailer, "Patrick needs to get it started now or he isn't going to make his next appointment."
Yep, that was right. Patrick Demarchelier was the photographer today, one of the most renowned and in demand photographers in the world was shooting her for British Vogue and she was sitting here in the old trailer trying to ignore her hang over. Definitely not what she had expected.
"She's done," said the make up artist, "Where's Shirley from wardrobe? She hasn't been dressed yet."
"Right here!" called another woman and she stumbled through the doorway with a red Dior skirt, "Come on, Bambi."
Bambi opened her eyes and looked at herself, heavy but flawless make up with dark eyes and matte red lips, she felt beautiful. It was as though a mask had been placed over her tired, boring face and she was transformed into someone glamorous and almost otherworldly.
As she was being zipped into the skirt, her phone vibrated again. As she read Harry's message, she smiled. He was sweet and it was obvious that he was trying to hide the fact that he liked her. She thought back to the kiss that day, his warm lips on hers, and felt her heart beat suddenly faster. She must have blushed because one of the artists came up to apply more powder on her cheeks, thinking that it had rubbed off somehow.
Hi Harry, it's going fine, still in make up. I'm shooting for the cover of Vogue, you jealous? ;) Movies sound good, I'll message when we finish up here. PS Your jacket likes me more than you.
A leather bra was strapped around her body as she stepped into a pair of sky high Jeffrey Campbells. Bambi took a deep breath before putting a smile on her face, ignoring the pain in her head and stepping outside.
Patrick was a very genuine man who cared not about your fame or if you were an heiress, but focused solely on making you and the clothes look absolutely remarkable. He had a strong sense of determination in him and a look of seriousness on his face while he worked, but off set he was the most charming French man she had ever the privilege of meeting. It was people like him that made her difficult career worthwhile.
"How are you today, Bambi?" he asked, smiling as his assistants guided her in front of the reflected lights and sat her on a white garden chair in the middle of a forest, "You are stunning as always, it appears."
"Thank you, Patrick," she had worked with him just once in her modeling career when she did a Venetian themed group photo shoot two years ago, but he had good memory, "And you are still a charmer, it appears."
He asked her to smile, laugh, brood, cry, jump and sit that day. There was a certain magic in a fashion shoot that was impossible to explain. Whilst her shoes ached her feet and the skirt dug into her waist, she knew that the camera had captured her at the most beautiful moments and frozen a millisecond for all eternity. She felt like the artificial lighting was pointless as it was on a very low setting and simply there to even out the tone. The real beauty came in the flush of green through the leaves as the sunlight seeped through. There was a bit of dew still left over in this deserted area and she felt like a snow white running through the wilderness.
Albeit a little bit colder.
Bambi wished she still had Harry's hoodie on her.
She sat in the car that night, her face wiped completely clean of make up and her hair almost back to normal. The shoot was done for the night and her only plan was to cook herself a small dinner and rest her aching toes. Thinking back on the day, she thought about Harry. His smile in the morning was still in her mind, she was still longing for his almost slender body against hers and, of all things, she just could not forget about his lips. For a second, it made her forget that she wasn't allowed to actually fall in love with him.
She had to stick to Angela's plan, as usual. One Direction was hot property at the moment and many girls were vying to be seen on their arms – Harry had the exact amount of fame and a clean enough reputation to get her to the front of as many publications as possible. It was after that that she could finally prove her work doing things that she actually loved, singing and acting. She had not always wanted to be a model, but it was an easier road than going onto a talent show and getting five seconds of fame (ironic, since it was Harry she was thinking about and his fame was definitely long lasting).
Reaching for her pink classic Chanel handbag, she pulled out her phone.
Heading home now, how's your day?
She texted him before putting the phone down into her lap and leaning back into the leather seats, closing her eyes for just a second.
"Long day, Miss Aerith?" asked her driver, Samuel, "Would you like me to stop off anywhere for dinner or refreshments?"
She considered it before answering, "Could you stop off at the Starbucks near my house, Sam? It should still be open, I think."
"Of course."
It's been good, me and the lads are working on a new song. Good shoot?
She thought about their new song, wondering whether it would be something up beat and cheerful, or something a bit more romantic. In her head, she imagined Harry singing to her and her heart warmed up. She really did miss him.
Of course (: tired but, so stopping off for coffee. Can't wait to hear it.
"We're here, Miss Aerith," answered Samuel as he pulled up at the shop, "Would you like me to go in and get it for you?"
"No thanks, I'll go myself."
Bambi went in and bought two coffees, one for her and one for her driver. She had always treated her staff well. She considered buying more and heading back to Harry's house, knowing that he would not say no to her staying the night, but thought that she might be coming on a lot stronger than she should.
Usually she would only see a guy once every week, maybe twice, but for some reason it had been one day and she was wishing she could be in his arms again. She shook her head, certain that she was losing her mind.
Why would she fall in love with someone? Harry Styles, in fact. The guy who Angela had pretty much forced her to meet and then assigned her to date? She had told herself years ago that she would only ever appear interested and never give her heart to someone who was probably using her for fame as much as she was. She lived in a tough world after all.