"Be yourself- not your idea of what you think somebody else's idea of yourself should be." -Henry David Thoreau
The winters are fading away ever so slowly, which is a bit annoying. It's hot as my mother's anger at day time and cold as my father's heart at night. The sun makes an appearance for a day while the next whole week will be raining as if the city was planning to turn into a sea.
Winter is not my kind of mood. The weather makes me lazy and sleepy while my heart is forcing me to go out and get some fresh air, like now. It rained the whole night yesterday, and as the morning came it turned into drizzling. The kind of weather when you'll prepare a nice cup of tea or anything warm and sit beside your window with a phone in hand. That is exactly what I was enjoying until my mother came bursting into my room and gasped, making me jump and the hot liquid falling on to my arm and stomach. I yelp in pain, standing up from the couch only to drop the cup and managed to catch my phone.
My skin on the hand was irritating so was the small part on my stomach, the now hot, soaked shirt pressed to my skin adding to the pain. I shake my hand and grab a hold of the shirt by the other hand to pull it off my skin. My mother sighs heavily and walks in my direction, all dressed nicely for some reason.
"You're turning 20 and instead of being responsible, I see you getting careless day by day, Indiana." She scolds, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the mess. This is the new mocking line she started to use just after a week I had turned 19. And there are still 2 or more weeks till I turn 20 and she makes turning 20 depressing. My hand still irritates, so does my stomach. I blow at my hand, shaking and squeaking at the same time.
"Enough of this," She exclaims and I pause, looking at her. She really thinks I'm doing this for her show. "Why aren't you ready yet?"
I give her a confused look before walking off to get a new shirt. Pulling out my yellow t-shirt, I walk behind the panel screen to replace the wet one.
"We are leaving for the dinner." She informs with annoyance clear in her voice.
"The Styles' one?" I ask.
"Yes, now get ready."
"Mother, I already told you I'm not going." She stops walking after my words and sighs.
"We are not having this conversation again." She looks at me over her shoulder. "Get changed, we're waiting down stairs."
She waits for my answer, "Alright."
With that, she leaves me alone; making me glad she did not pick any dress for me. I wanted to pick one for myself this time.
The impression that Harry left me with, I doubt that anyone would be joyed or even satisfied with the chance of meeting him again. I'm not least thrilled, nor am I looking forward to it. They called the whole family for dinner and according to my mother it would be disrespectful if I do not visit, and she would not hear anything less than that.
I slide my closet door to the left revealing my dresses that hung neatly on the metallic rod. I push my way through the dresses, paranoid at how I cannot find the one I wanted.
You can do much better
That is what got me in the desire of wearing something...better. I wanted to push him back, actually, out of my mind and tell myself that there is nothing wrong with being myself. But there was something inside me that wanted to look good, to show him that I can do way better than whatever he thinks is better. He really had to make no special efforts to climb on my nerves.
After shuffling multiple times, I decide on a royal blue dress. It had short sleeves, adorned with a lace pattern. I hurriedly dress into it after realizing how much time I took only in picking one, simple dress. It came above my knee, just enough to reveal, tight enough to show that I only looked fat on the previous dress I wore. I felt out of place by thinking such things.
I smile to myself when the wings of my eyeliner were perfectly even and finished rest of my makeup, keeping it minimal. 'My life is in my favor today' I thoughts to myself. 'Just wait.' My sub-conscious informs.
I had to hear all three of them scolding me for being so late while I kept apologizing uncountable times, only to get taunted again. The car ride was silent, but my mother was intently watching me through the rare view mirror. Her gaze told me how suspicious she was about something but I was least bothered.
Mr. and Mrs. Styles were overjoyed as we made our appearances, something odd for people like us. She hugged me and told me I looked extremely gorgeous, which also confirmed my thought that I actually did look hideous that day.
We all settled in their fancy, yet classy drawing room. Not a minute passed by that our parents laughed and chattered around. It was actually nice to see my parents being so happy, and so...real.
Me and Iris sat their awkwardly, looking at each other. Her urging me to ask Mrs. Styles about Gemma while I totally refused. Clicking of multiple shoes takes my attention and Gemma and Harry enter the room. Gemma was dressed in a shade of light purple which went great with her hair and made her complication fairer. She greeted us with a huge smile and a nice embrace.
I fight from gazing at the male who was greeting my father but my eyes landed on him eventually, who had his lips pursed and a straight face. Before he could catch my gaze I turn away and debate between getting seated or keep standing. His gaze was on me, I could feel it from the corner of my eyes but stood tall and broad, shrugging it off but a part of me was jumping in success. He exits the room after our acknowledgement without greeting me once. Not that I care either.
"Come along, let me show you around." Gemma offers, referring to me and Iris. I smile shyly in her direction and follow both of them. The house was quite nice and neat, considering they recently moved. She showed us almost every room and I noticed how their house was mainly black or white. It's quite classy if you ask me.
"I should show you our chickens." She informs, "I don't know why but my Mom has some kind of obsession with them." I can't help but notice how sweet and friendly Gemma is, the complete opposite of her brother. Where is he anyway? I mean, it's a good thing he isn't anywhere near me. I'd rather stay away than have another conversation with him.
"Funny thing is I have a thing for chickens too." Iris lies, making me bite back my laugh. Why would someone lie about liking chickens? That is just ridiculous.
We walk by, what I assume is the T.V lounge and spot two bodies on the sofa. Harry was settled with another brunette female next to him. May I add, I bit too close. Before Harry could notice my presence, I find myself looking down at the floor and flowing Gemma to their backyard quite quickly.
Gemma explains how they had to pay extra money just for these chickens to fly back to London. She also doubts they charged them extra, unnecessary money. You would be absolutely insane and out of mind if you did not enjoy Gemma's company. She is humorous in her own way and she never fails to keep the conversation alive.
She pulls the hook out of the small lock on the cage of the chickens making the door wide open. The 3 chickens waste no time to take advantage of the freedom and flee towards the corner before coming back, this repeated twice and I watch in amusement, even the way they walked got my hooked with the view. I notice one of those brown shaded chicken bobbing his head in my direction, realization hitting me hard. My little panic reaction caused me to jump back and bump into some chest. My heels dug themselves in the ground and I grab a hold of the shirt to balance myself. After recovering, I jerk away from whomever that has saved me from breaking a bone.
"Wow, that was a good start." I mentally slap myself for my unintentional action. I'd rather choose broken bone than bump into him.
"I..ah, I'm sorry. It's just that ch-" I'm searching for words, unable to keep my cool in front of him.
"Calm down, it's alright." He ends the sentence with a small chuckle which lightened my mixed up mood. But it won't really change my decision on not talking to him. Aware of the eyes Gemma and Iris have on us, I walk past Harry cautious not to fall again and rest my shoulder against the sliding window. I watch as he approaches his sister and commence a conversation with Iris. Of course, she laughs and I, for some reason, roll my eyes.
My body tenses up when he ambles in my direction, his gaze down, a smirk clear on his features. I foolishly expected him to stop next to me but instead he walks inside. My shoulders relax as he passes, his strong cent lingering in the air and I find this crave with in me to sense it again.
"Want some?" The rasp of his voice offers from next to me, unexpectedly, and I stop myself from showing him any kind of reaction. A wine glass is kept in front of my gaze by him, the brown, crystal liquid clear.
"Thank you, but I don't drink." I state, flashing a small smile upwards before looking away. I hear him chuckle next to me, making me think of yesterday again; my mind prepared for another of his cruel comment.
"It's just apple juice, not wine." He smiles when I look at him, embarrassing myself yet again. I nod like an illiterate human and fight whether to take the glass or not. Hesitation and nervousness creep in my brain again and I keep my eyes on his hand, how he wore rings and had that cross tattoo on it. It is actually quite nice.
"Just take the damn glass will you?" He breaks me from my little trance. I grab the glass cautiously from the very bottom, not wanting to make any contact with his flesh. He smiles wider at my actions and I sheepishly look away, hiding the heated cheeks with my hair.
"So, what brings you here?" He speaks.
"Well, now isn't that the worst way to start a conversation." My mouth blurts, he is amused by my answer; chuckling along. "Isn't it obvious by now?" I refer to my parents and can't help but enjoy his entranced expressions. He chuckles fairly once more before silence engulfs us.
"You did quite better tonight," He states, taking a sip. "I'm impressed."
'It's not like I wanted you to be impressed.' I wanted to say but I knew, deep down inside, that was my mission for tonight. I bring the glass to my lips and take multiple sips so I can avoid talking to him.
"You can just tell if you don't want to answer that," He speaks, "No need to shove the whole glass in your mouth." Seeing his confidence triggers my own and I take a last sip before speaking.
"What exactly do you expect me to say to that?"
"A thanks would be nice, maybe." He raises his brows, shrugging in a playful manner. My brain tells me that there is a possibility that he is drunk or something. Why is he nice today?
I take the last sips of my juice so I can get over it and join Iris and Gemma with whatever they are doing. Talking to this guy just exasperates me.
Before I could turn around, Harry's hand demands for the glass and I quietly place it there, mumbling him a 'thank you' which also made him chuckle for some reason. I walk towards my sister and her new friend beforehand, joining them as they laugh. When my eyes force towards Harry, he is leaning against his previous place, smirking in my direction.
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