Torn

Chapter 42

Selena...

The image reflected in the mirror is distorted and undecipherable – the aftermath of my very long hot shower, though failing to deliver the relaxation I was hoping for. Wiping the steam off its' surface, a girl with pallid skin and dark-ringed eyes is revealed.

I sighed. So much for trying to look better.

But what can I expect? It's been two tedious nights with not even a single ounce of sleep for me and now...

...now Harry's back in town and I don't have a single clue how to face him.

I've mulled it over and over again and I still haven't got an inkling on what I'm supposed to say to him. With a groan of defeat, I spun on my heel and paved to the bedroom. Since the incident two weeks ago, I haven't had the heart nor courage to stay at my house again, fueling my initial thoughts of having it listed. It felt too big for me anyway.

I knew house hunting should be up my alley soon, feeling I'd be more likely to cave in with the idea of selling my current one and quite near in the future. But for now I can't be bothered with it, having no qualms on staying in hotels for the meantime.

My hands toy with the different fabrics of my many clothes. There was already an ensemble waiting readily for me on the bed. I chose it before I went to the bathroom. But eyeing it now...I've no clue why I felt any sort of preference towards it in the first place. It was too...floral and I wasn't in the mood to be so cheery as of the moment.

My eyes scanned the pieces in front of me again.

Cashmere...hmm, no.

Crop top...too revealing.

Long skirt...too breezy.

Sheer...I'm not going to a club.

One after another, I choose a garment and after much ill-earned reviews from my own scrutiny place it back. And when I pick on the last piece I ask myself if I've always been this picky. Instantly my subconscious answers with a 'no'.

Just as a scream of frustration bubbles in my throat, I am distracted by a ping from my phone.

From: Harry

Babe? What time will you be here?

It's already 9:45. I could just go to yours, if you want.

Tossing my phone, I arbitrarily snatched a pillow and release the scream since I felt there was nothing more that would hinder it except for the fluffy material.

I don't want this day to end even more than I didn't want it to even begin. But it's here now and two hours later than our rendezvous time, I'm still here having accomplished nothing. I guess I've exhausted every possible reason I could and should finally get a move on from my dilly-dallying.

A tear escaped my eye and I wipe it angrily, grabbing the first outfit I could. Upon inspection, it's a black, long-sleeved, form-fitting mini dress and even if I first thought it's a tad bit inappropriate for the situation, now as I look at it, I'm thinking why the hell not. Sniffling softly, I put it on top of the bed, replacing the dress that was previously there and with the afterthought of dressing up for him one last time, went on to grab a red, sleeveless undershirt and a pair of stockings from one of my suitcases.

(o)

Ever since Harry sold his LA home, he's usually holed up in some hotel. It's quite risky seeing each other this way, but the one time I'm praying for some sort of delay, everything pans out smoothly. The back entrance is miraculously void of a single pap, an elevator is available with just a second from pressing the button and not one person disrupts my ride from the basement to the 42nd.