Cliché || H.S.

Chapter 36

It took drinking a gallon of water, some ice, and a facial but the swelling in my eyes from crying is finally gone. Well, mostly. Last night was a restless night even though I was exhausted. My mind kept contemplating what is true, and what the right thing to do is. There's a knot in my stomach that has existed for months now, but at this moment it feels all consuming.

As I sit in my New York hotel room starting to get ready it makes me nostalgic for my last trip here. The last time I was in the city I was at Harry's apartment, but now I'm sheltered in a standard hotel room, overlooking the bustling west side. 

"You're quiet today," Mario remarks, clicking off the hair dryer. He sets it on the countertop and begins brushing it through my hair gently. Sometimes when he stands behind me, massaging my scalp with the bristles, it feels like he's my fairy godmother. I'd say godfather but I'm pretty sure he'd prefer mother.

"Just tired it all... I didn't sleep well last night," that's most of the truth at least. Mario inspects my face through my reflection in the mirror before going back to my hair.

"It has to do with that Styles boy, doesn't it?"

"Does everything have to be about him?" I ask. It feels like that's all anyone has to talk to me about anymore. I'm half tempted to call Harper, suddenly preferring the company of four year olds. I'd much rather talk about Peppa Pig or a princess dress right now.

"I never liked him anyways," Mario states while sectioning off a piece of my hair. He has a serious expression on his face, and it makes a smile creep to mine.

"That's a bold faced lie, Mario! You were gushing all over him. I'm pretty sure if he proposed to you right now you would say yes," I tease. Mario gets a goofy grin on his face, trying to hide his face shyly.

"Do you think I have a chance with him now that he's single?" He asks eagerly. It actually gets a laugh out of me. Everyone always feels like they have to tiptoe around the subject, but being able to joke about it feels good.

"Mario! Stop it, no you don't." He looks offended for a moment, pulling the curling iron away from my head.

"Remember who's holding the hot tools before you insult me," he challenges before going back to work, "at least I know he must be bad in bed. There's no way the boy is good at everything."

I don't respond, but I can feel my cheeks reddening. Mario stops what he's doing, his mouth agape. He lets out a dramatic gasp, setting the curling iron back on the counter and gripping my arms tightly. "He is not! Ohmygod, you lucky bitch! Have you thought about having breakup sex? I'm sure that would just add something to it."

I chuckle before answering him, "No and I'm not going to. I don't need all that stuff clouding my judgment."

"Oh, so his dick is that good? I think that means you have to, I would die for something like that. Just absolutely knock your pussy out like fight night."

"Mario! Get it together my man. It's not happening," I laugh, unable to make myself be serious, "but sometimes I wish it would happen," I smirk. Mario screams and jumps up and down once, tugging my hair. It only makes me laugh harder.

"You dirty bitch! If you do you have to give me all the details. I need to live vicariously through you, it's been a dry season over here honey I'll tell you that." Mario's mind clearly drifts to another place for a moment while he finishes curling the underlayer of my hair. I feel exponentially better, finding myself engaging in conversation willingly. I need to start taking Mario with me everywhere.

"How heavy is this dress?" I ask Annabelle, holding the top against my chest while she literally sews me into it. Just holding up the top is an arm workout, the rest of the fabric pooling around my legs. Annabelle takes the pin out of her mouth, narrowing her eyes on a spot near my ribcage.