Eucalyptus & Honey |H.S.|

Chapter 7 - Comfortable Silence Is So Overrated

"Margot!" I yelled, my voice high-pitched and ugly.

I was late for rehearsals. Like, really fucking late. As in forty minutes late, not including the twenty minutes it would take me to drive to Harry's.

He had texted me last night after my shift. Just three straight-to-the-point sentences.

Meet at my house tomorrow. 5pm. Don't be fucking late, angel baby.

-Pretty

I rolled my eyes at the "pretty," knowing he was making fun of me, but I couldn't deny the way it made my stomach flip while reading it.

I actually wasn't even sure how he had gotten my number, but I also wasn't necessarily surprised. I had a feeling that getting information from people wasn't exactly a struggle for him.

Pretty privilege.

I was currently throwing my clothes onto the floor behind me. Somehow, every single thing I owned had turned ugly overnight, and nothing seemed good enough for my first day working with Harry.

I was a fucking anxious mess.

The plan was to leave the house at 4:45, knowing I would arrive at around 5:05, just to piss Harry off a little. But, I had gotten home from work at 4:00, meaning I only had forty-five minutes to shower and pick out an outfit before I had to leave. And I didn't account for my clothing to suddenly turn on me.

I was biting my lip—hard—nearly breaking the skin. I fucking hated being late, and by this point, I knew it would just be embarrassing for me and hadn't been worth pissing off Harry.

"Go Go!," I practically whined. No response. Again. "MARGOT!" I yelled this time, knowing she would hear it.

The sound of her bare feet slapping against the wooden floors sounded in the hall as she approached my door. I could hear her slight panting breaths from behind me, and I turned around to face her.

Her hair was wet and sticking to her cheeks, and her damp skin was covered by a towel. Her hand was placed over her chest, as if attempting to calm her heartbeat, and her brows were furrowed in concern.

"Oh my god, Stevie, are you okay? What the fuck happened? I thought you were getting kidnapped or some shit!" She said, and her expression shifted to a mix of relief and exasperation as she could clearly see that I was okay. Well, physically okay.

"You thought I was getting kidnapped, and your first response was to confront the attacker in a towel? With no weapon?"

Margot let out a breathy laugh and rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Steves. What's wrong? I was showering. That's my me time. Like me time, y'know? You know that."

I groaned, and continued chewing on my lip, the pain causing tears to prick my eyes. "I have nothing to wear, Go Go! Absolutely fucking nothing. Just stupid pants and stupid shirts. I'll look stupid. And I'm already fucking beyond late. Harry probably already replaced me. Help, please?"

She watched as I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the tears to leave. Her face and tone softened, realizing I wasn't really okay.

"Oh my god, Stevie," she said as she sat cross-legged in front of me, doing her best to cover herself with the towel. "First of all, you are literally incapable of looking stupid. Seriously. That's not even an option, you're so hot." Her small fingers quickly brushed away one of the stubborn tears that was cooling my burning cheeks.

I was beyond fucking aware that crying over clothes was ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. Anxiety coursed through my veins in the way it loves to do, and at this point, I wouldn't put it past me to cry over spilled milk. Oat milk, though. Cow milk can spill all it wants.