PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Forty Six

☼☼☼

And it was like slow motion

Standing there in my party dress

In red lipstick

With no one to impress

And they're all laughing

☼☼☼

Jaime's P.O.V.

December 31st 1997

(yes I can hear all your gasps)

The TV drones on as I tuck myself tighter into my blanket. I am the enforcer of my own torture.

"She broke up with me. What do I do? Can she come back? How can I get her back? I can't--I can't get her to talk to me. It's all so fucked up. I feel like crying. She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart and she gave me a pen."

My front door slams causing me to jump, but my anxiety is quickly dulled by Jess yelling my name.

"Jaime? I have something for you."

I shuffle for the remote and turn the movie off, hoping she didn't notice what I was watching. My heart stops racing by the time she flops down on the opposite couch. Christmas was last week, and we do presents a few days before anyway. What could she possibly have for me?

I stay silent as she pulls out a small envelope from her pocket.

"I didn't want to give this to you in front of everybody because I didn't know how you'd react. I debated giving it to you at all, but here."

I take the envelope from her hands and pull out an ornate red invitation with gold lettering. I read it over multiple times, but my brain struggles to comprehend the information. I finally give up and ask, "What is this?"

"It's an invitation to an art show in my hometown."

"Yeah, I got that. But why are you giving it to me?"

I read it again and it finally clicks. Artist to be featured: H. Styles. Harry's being showcased. It's his art show.

Jess and I sit in silence. She can see the thousands of questions I have circling my head. Rather than let me ask them, she starts rambling.

"When I was home visiting my parents they gave me a stack of mail that had been accruing. Why they didn't just send it down here, I don't know. Before I got into music, I tried a few art classes at this small studio a few towns over. Anything for my parents to get rid of me, you know? Anyway, the invitation is from my old art teacher. She must've invited all of her old students. Or maybe she sent them out to everyone in her address book. But, I saw the name and it stuck out to me, so I called Augustine and–"

"Wait, you know Augustine?" I run my finger over her name embossed into the invitation. Someone took great care when creating these. Or spent a lot of money to make them look that way. Augustine's name is featured on it so she must be the one hosting the event.

"Yeah that was the name of my old art teacher. How do you know Augustine?"

"Harry talked about her all the time. He lives in the apartment above her studio."

"Woah. I never put that together. Really small world. He mentioned where he grew up, but I never put together how close we lived. Anyway, I called her and asked her about this. She told me that it was supposed to be this small and intimate thing, but then she got carried away and wanted to make it a big party. I didn't ask about Harry, but it's obviously him. I think we should go."