Your Creation • Zarry

61. She

The news was quickly spreading around that I was dating Camille, especially after we were seen together at the Fleetwood Mac concert. I wanted to keep us as private as possible because every time reports in the media said that I was dating someone suddenly everyone went snooping into my business and I just didn't want the world to know everything about me.

Zayn and I seemed to be on some mutual understanding that we were seeing other people when we weren't seeing each other and although neither of us found it to be the ideal situation, it was the only one we knew. It just felt like I was leading two different lives and I tried my best to avoid looking at pictures and videos of them all over the internet because that was just too difficult of a pill for me to swallow.

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in the middle of August and I had just gotten out of the shower and was laying on Camille's bed at her house in the Beachwood Canyon part of Los Angeles. I heard her speaking on the phone in french to someone in the other room, admiring her accent as my eyes glanced over at her rather large walk-in closet.

I got up and casually walked towards it and began looking through the racks of dresses, blouses and skirts. She had this eclectic taste in fashion with many bold colors, unique patterns, stripes, paisley prints, band t-shirts, all things that I would wear. I came across this over sized bohemian style long sleeved dress that was burnt yellow with blue and red flowers on it, long ties in the front and lace trim on the sleeves and thought briefly about how it would look on me.

Then Camille came up from behind, her chin suddenly resting on my shoulder.

"Whatcha doin?" she asked in a sing-song voice.

"Oh nothing, I just like this dress thing you have. I bet it looks great on you."

I felt her smiling and she hopped in front of me, snatching the dress from my hand. She turned around and held it up to my body, looking me once over and nodded.

"This will fit you. Put it on."

"What?"

"You know you want to put it on so why don't you? Here, let me help."

She lifted her arms up and removed the white t-shirt that I was wearing, then unbuttoned my shorts and slipped them off onto the floor. She removed the dress from the hanger and began placing it over my head as I reached my arms up to fit into the sleeves.

Camille took a step back and looked at me, grinning.

"You look hot," she said.

"Really?" I asked and turned to face the mirror.

I was brought back to old memories in my mind just then, memories from when I used to think about wearing things like that, when I used to look through fashion magazines and browse the ladies clothes racks when no one was looking, when I used to steal nail polish bottles from Lou and paint just one nail backstage before our shows sometimes or when Zayn used to paint them for me but I was always told to take it off. I thought about how Zayn always encouraged that side of me and was the only one who really knew about it. I hadn't thought about that me in awhile.

"Yeah, really. Men can wear women's clothes if they want to. Who's to say it's even for a woman? If you like it then wear it. We had Freddie Mercury, David Bowie and now...Harry Styles."

That sounded exactly like something Zayn would say.

"Comparing me to Freddie and David Bowie is a bit of a stretch don't you think?"

"No it's not. You're going to end up being a legend just like they are."

"You think too much of me."