The Boy Wore Black || Harry Styles

The Boy Wore Black - Chapter 11

"What do you think of this one?  Is it too outlandish?"

I glanced at the blouse in Jules' hand, the neon print pattern threatening to blind me.  It was cute, and completely in style, but not something I would be caught dead in.  You had to have a certain amount of confidence to pull something like that off.  Jules had it, me not so much. 

"I like it," I answered honestly, "but you'll need to wear simple pants.  Anything but black, white or blue leggings would clash with it terribly.  You'd look like a walking flashback to the eighties."

"I know, I know."  Jules rolled her eyes and moved down the rack, pulling a more subdued shirt off.  "Are you not getting anything?"

"No."

I shook my head and glanced at the phone in my hands.  This was her shopping trip and Neiman Marcus was way out of my price range.  While I loved the beautiful clothes, I was hired to find the fashion steals.  There was no way I would be purchasing anything from a store of this caliber.  I would stick to Target and thrift stores. 

"Why?" She lifted her hazel gaze to mine and frowned.  "It's on sale and we both know you need some new things.  So help me if you resurrect that ruffle contraption you wore yesterday, I will murder you."

"Oh, that's pleasant."

"Just saying."  She shrugged and held the blouse out, examining the aquamarine color against my otherwise pale skin.  "This would be fabulous with your complexion.  Go try it on."

"I'm not trying on anything," I argued, stepping away from the clothes.  "You try it on."

"Why are you in a crappy mood?"  She put it back on the rack and followed after me.  I hadn't quite regained the upbeat persona that I had earlier in the day, and I knew exactly what the cause had been.

Harry.

"Claire, for real?  I'm in heels here.  Slow down."  I hadn't realized how quickly I was navigating through the racks, even in my ankle booties, and I slowed to a walking pace as Jules caught up with me from behind.  "Okay, stop right now or you're going to have one very pissed off woman to deal with."

I obliged, coming to a halt in front of a rather ornate display of handbags.  "Sorry," I breathed apologetically.  "I just really need to go to the bathroom."

"The loo is over there," Jules commented, pointing to a black and white sign that hung very visibly just across the room.  "You're going in the wrong direction if that's really where you're headed."

"It is," I answered assuredly.  "Just go back over to the clothes and I'll find you once I'm done.  That shirt really was cute.  You should try it on."

"Okay."

She didn't seem convinced but I didn't wait to stick around and find out if she had any more questions to ask.  Though I knew she hadn't done anything to deserve my irritation, she was the only one in the line of fire and I was finding it increasingly difficult not to snap.

I stepped into the bathroom, the lavish interior doing wonders to remind me how out of place I was in a store like this.  Jules might have been born into and lived in the life of fancy things and expensive goods, but that wasn't me.  It never would be me.  I liked things simple and I loved clothes.  That was it. 

I walked into one of the stalls at the end, putting myself as far away from the door as possible and leaned against the wall.  I needed familiarity.  Someone who knew me for the person I was.  Not someone who'd known me for less than a week and had made decisions based upon what they'd seen thus far.