if you guys want me to read your fanfics go to the part i added to the beginning of the book (fanfic 101)

chapter forty seven

N.J.H.
When Tiffany has our attention she smiles, folding her hands primly and properly. Harry grips my waist tightly, his palm barley wrapping around but making up for it by squeezing my hipbone.

"So, tonight I was in my room, and I started thinking, what am I going to do for my bachelorette party?"

We all give her a look and though I don't know any of these other boys, I already know we're on the same page; this girl is crazy as fuck.

"In conclusion, with a long talk and some serious convincing from daddy..."

Louis chokes, holding his throat and falling onto the floor, making small vomiting sounds. I chuckle as Louis recovers from his overreacting and Tiffany rolls her eyes.

"Thank god I'm doing this; there's a boxing ring here, and every single one of you is going to fight."

My eyes widen and Harry gets up almost immediately,

"No. We're leaving."

"No you're not," she chuckles, "or else you're flying back to America, and,"

She turns to me and smiles,

"One complaint to Mr. Styles from me and your new job is terminated."

It's then when I yank Harry down into his seat, sending him a glare,

"Not worth it," I scold him as if he's a child, "stop it. Now."

He rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, an obviously snarly glance headed Tiffany's way as she gives us instructions for the fights. Well, if men fighting is what she wants to see, it's what she's going to get. Louis and I are completely 100% untrained in the art of fighting, while our boyfriends train together. It's going to be quite an interesting night, but not for us.

Once the rules are explained and she's satisfied with our appalled looks, she snaps her fingers and the two men appear at her side,

"We need to get all these scrawny boys to the ring; can you drive them?"

They nod and by this point, I'm not surprised if they would break the steering wheel with one grasp.

•

For Jamaica, the quality of the boxing ring is insanely incredible. Seeing the setting of the fight only made me feel more afraid for it, as Harry gripped my hips once again, tighter than before.

"If she forces you up to fight, you keep your ass on that bench," he tells me sternly, and I pinch his arm,

"Okay mom," I mutter, "last time I checked I was in charge of myself. Not my fiancé."

"Calm down," he sighs, rubbing his forehead, "I'm just trying to--"

"Protect me? Harry it's become a faded topic. I get it; I'm a gift that needs to be treasured. But what's gonna happen when you can't be there all the time? Or at all?"

His eyes widen and he pulls me to the side, now grasping my shoulders,

"Please don't ever say that again."

"What, the truth? Harry you're going to die soon, just like everyone else. Who knows, you may die before me, or vice versa! The difference between the two of us is that if you were to pass away tonight, yeah it would hurt, but I would be capable of taking care of myself, and eventually letting go."

I feel his palms become clammy as his eyes hood over with tears,

"I don't want to think about that now..."

"It's inescapable," I continue, "but baby steps, okay babe? The first step is to..."

I take his hands off my shoulders and hold them in my own,

"Let loose a little. Stop being an overprotective boyfriend. Take it with small doses Harry...I love you, but seriously, this is getting old."

He bites his lip consciously and I push his shoulders down, kissing his forehead,

"I can take care of myself. If you can't trust anyone else's judgement, trust mine."

"Well...I still want to get you a new phone."

"I was wondering when that's going to happen," I say, curiously looking up at him as he chuckles,

"When we get back, I swear."

"I want an iPhone 6S," I tell him, "I need to one up Louis in something."

"I will make sure that happens."

"Oh, and another thing," I say, looking over to the crowd of boys and pointing at the one that was fairly familiar to me,

"If I do fight, I'm fighting him first."

"Who is that?"

"He was sleeping with Tiffany when I was dating her. I mean so was your dad, but this was before we hooked up."

"Shit," he chuckles, "kick his ass."

"Absolutely."

We rejoin the group and Tiffany greets us with gloves and a change of clothes,

"The other boys are changing; let's get to it, and quickly."

Harry takes our clothes, handing me my own as we both head to the bathroom. We open the door to a group of boys, all anxious as they change. Harry and I stand by each other, stripping out of lazy clothes and putting on the shorts,

"I knew she wasn't going to give me a shirt."

"And why is that?"

"Because, well, do you remember when we first got into your car, and I told you Tiffany had been insulting my weight?"

"Are you kidding," he groans, "that's why?"

He takes off the shirt he was putting on and hands it off to me,

"Put this on. Right now."

I smile slightly, pulling it over my torso. He's always got me, regardless. The other boys watch as Harry comments very loudly on Tiffany's insensitivity and when I hear a specific voice, I almost go ballistic,

"She's a total bitch," the boy that slept with her oh so long ago says, and I retaliate,

"You fucked her," I mutter and he looks up almost immediately,

"Wanna fight faggot?"

"Oh please," Louis shoves him straight to the sinks, surprising me, as he appeared out of nowhere, "it's 2015 dip shit; nobody says that as an insult towards gay men."

"You know what--"

"No," I stop them both, "what's your name?"

"Darek."

"Well Darek, we both got screwed by the same bitch," I snort, "so suck it up, and stay away from me and my boyfriend."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if we get in that ring together, I'm going to knock every single one of your teeth out."

•

When I walk out with a shirt on, Tiffany looks at me in disbelief. I smirk, giving her the infamous middle finger before sitting next to Harry, who looks like an intense stud without a shirt. I see Louis looking at his chest and I smack him, giving him a glare,

"Eyes off my bod."

"You wish that was your bod."

I reach over, running my hands down Harry's chest and sticking my hand right down his shorts. He looks at me in alarm and I smirk at Louis,

"My bod."

Tiffany claps again and she points at two people in the row of boys; Harry, and Zayn.

"You two," she says, "into the ring first. Maybe you can teach the amateurs something."

Harry gets up reluctantly, picking up the gloves under his chair,

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

I shrug, leaning up and kissing his lips before he goes,

"Good luck."

"I'm afraid to fight him," he chuckles as Zayn punches his shoulder with a smile,

"Let's see how training worked out overall."

They both step up, holding up their gloves as Tiffany blows the whistle. Louis and I are both grinning, watching our boyfriends fight each other in a vigorous match.

"I bet you thirty bucks Zayn wins."

I hesitate, wondering if it's okay to bet on your boyfriend, but remember that I love money, and beating Louis.

"You have it on you?"