The Boy Wore Black || Harry Styles

The Boy Wore Black - Chapter 4

"Claire!"

I poked open an eye and stared across the room at the door.  Surely I was imagining the beating that was taking place on the other side, and the distinctly accented voice that belonged to Jules.  This was a dream. Actually, this was a nightmare.  For someone who'd known me a day, she'd taken this friendship to a whole different level.  I needed coffee and she needed to go away.  If not, this friendship would be over before it began.

"Claire!" she repeated, her voice loud through the thick hotel door.  "Let me in."

"Go away!" I hollered back, pulling the pillow over my head to block out the noise.  "Come back after six!  Actually, come back around six-thirty.  Not a minute sooner."

"It is after six," she answered, "and it'll be six-thirty in five minutes.  Let me in."

I glanced at the clock and frowned at the numbers that stared back at me.  There was no way it was already time to get up.  This bed was either far too comfortable, or I was way too exhausted from the events that had transpired the day before.  Perhaps it was a combination of both.

"I come bearing Starbucks."

Like a moth to the flame I pushed back the covers, not hesitating for a minute to pull open the door and reveal the piece of heaven I liked to refer to as the large coffee cup with the green trademarked coffee collar.

"Good morning."  I took a sip and spun, nestling the warm cup in the space between my hands.  Perhaps she would cut it in the way of friendship.  Waking me up early in exchange for a Carmel Macchiato was fine by me.  "To what do I owe this wake-up call?"

"I'm driving you to work," Jules answered, following me through the room whilst she scanned the décor.  "This place is nice."

I didn't doubt that she'd stayed in her fair share of expensive venues, but she was right.  The hotel room was nice.  I'd stood in the doorway at first; gawking at the lush accommodations I'd been given.  I, Claire Reynolds, one of the simplest people you'd ever meet, was staying in the Four Seasons.  Yes, this was my life.

I sat down on the bed, watching as Jules entered into the room in an outfit that made it look like she was fixing to hit the runway rather than her mother's fashion house.  She wore a vibrant blue suit that consisted of ankle pants and a matching blazer that had sleeves which stopped just below her elbows.  A white button down was worn crisply underneath, and her chunky statement necklace and electric yellow heels finished it off.  It was quite possibly the most colorful outfit I'd ever seen someone wear in real life, yet I couldn't help but admire how stylish she looked.  Perhaps I was in the wrong business.

"He wore the shoes." 

The statement didn't fall on deaf ears and I straightened immediately.  "He did?"

"Yes," she answered, nodding her head as she took a seat in a chaise lounge opposite me.  "There was a party last night."

"The one Louis asked about regarding the plus ones?" I questioned, the conversation flooding back to me along with Harry's not-so-subtle comments.  That boy had kept me up most of the night, despite how much I hated to admit it.  I was worried about those shoes, and the job security they carried along with them.

"That's the one."  She took a sip from her own coffee cup and watched me over the rim.  "He did wear them.  Not all of the boys went, but he and Niall were photographed leaving the party and the converses were on his feet like he'd promised."

"Thank goodness," I breathed.  "So then I'm in the clear?  I can keep my job."

"Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil," Jules answered nonchalantly.  "As far as I'm concerned, he planned to wear those shoes to the party all along."