Safe Haven ↠ h.s

Chapter Fifty-One

Five hundred dollars, two laughing-crying fits and three stores later, I find myself stuck in a fancy dressing room of a gown boutique. The room is lined with plush red velvet curtains and a matching bench. Harry dragged me in despite my complaints against doing so - I didn't really want to go into a gown boutique, but now I suppose I'm happy I did.

This seat in here is so nice. Not just to sit on, but I can't stop rubbing my palms across it. I watch in awe as the colour grows deeper and lighter with each swipe across. It's almost as soft as my sweater but the fabric is slightly different which makes it so much more interesting for me. I could sit here for hours just feeling it against my hands. Wow. I feel warm.

Harry's tattooed hand sticks through the side of curtain for the third time - this time, a black lace dress flows from the hanger. It's lengthy, nearly dragging along the floor even at the height Harry's passing it to me at. It's gorgeous - a halter-like neckline that dips down to mid-breast and the underarm slits even deeper than that. It shows a lot of skin, from what I can tell. The halter deviates into thin spaghetti straps right below the collarbone which cross at the back and stop mid-spine.

To say that this is a stunning dress is an understatement.

Why did I agree to dress shopping while drunk? I could barely get into the other dresses. What makes him think I can figure out where to put my head in terms of where the straps cross?

It takes me a few minutes, perhaps ten or so, but I figure the gown out. It's a perfect fit - not too tight that my boobs are bursting out, but not big enough that they sag, either. My chest looks nice, if I do say so myself. I mean, Jesus, I didn't even know I had that much boobage going on.

I'm so fuckin' plastered. Why am I here. I should go home and smoke.

"Are you okay? Did you get it on?" Harry's accent drags me back to reality.

I nod, not thinking that he can't see me, and step out from behind the curtains. Row upon row upon row of dresses fill the narrow shop, some racks so tall that it's hard for anyone to see us at the back left corner of the store. A couple of spotless mirrors lay to the right as I walk out, tilted so that I can see nearly all angles of the dress.

I turn at stop, looking at myself in the mirror. My hair hangs messily over my shoulders from the bandeau I took off. Pulling it up into a ponytail, I turn to the side and continue analyzing the dress.

How much is this?

"You look absolutely stunning," a voice breathes into my ear as I close my eyes and concentrate on his hot breath exhaling onto my shoulders. Lips press against the skin beneath my ear and move down slowly, a few light hickeys growing beneath the skin. I nearly gasp at the pleasureful sensation. My knees grow weak.

My eyes snap open when I feel a finger much rougher than Harry's slide the strap down my shoulder. In the mirror, I see myself, frightened and piss drunk, barely able to stand. Behind me stands a man sprouting dark brown hair littered with grey streaks. I nearly fall over when we make eye contact in the mirror.

Immediately, my happy, love-filled and drunken aura is shattered like a bullet through a windshield. Fantasy explodes, and reality is revealed.

"Get the fuck away from me!" I screech at the top of my lungs. "Oh my God! Someone help!"

I nearly trip over the dress as I leap a few metres forward, eyes quickly darting back and forth across the store. I scan for Harry but the only person I see is the cashier knocked out across the counter. Where is everyone? There were at least three staff in here when we walked in!