clouds ; l.h/c.h

CHAPTER TWO

The eve of Harry Styles's party was upon us, and Darla was having a fit.

"I don't understand how you can enjoy those things," she muttered spitefully. She aggressively flipped the page of 'A Fault In Our Stars', the frown on her face prominent.

She was lying on her stomach on my queen sized bed all the way in the corner of my room, and wasn't going to bother helping me get ready any time soon.

Parties weren't Darla's thing, and they used to not be mine. I suppose I just decided I wanted to make friends and build my social skills beyond that of a seven-year-old somewhere along the line.

"Could you zip me up?" I called from the mirror doors of my cupboard.

She groaned dramatically and slugged over to me, fiddling with the zip on my studded bustier top. I had found it at a thrift shop not long ago and almost fainted because of how perfect it was. It was just my size.

"Don't be so salty Lala," I said. Lala was a dumb nickname I'd given her long ago, and it seemed to slip out every now and again. "Parties are like cons for people with social lives."

"Yeah, except you don't have a social life."

"I do ever since I heard Luke Hemmings was going to be there."

She froze and released her hold on my zip. "What?" She asked in a curt whisper. Here we go.

I tried to mention Luke as least as possible to her, because of their long standing one-sided rivalry, but whenever I did let it slip that I, Darla forbid, have news to spill, Darla goes absolutely bonkers.

I'm a little sick of it, honestly. She's my best friend though, and when she's not being a stubborn bitch she's honestly really chill. Luke Hemmings just did something to her I can't quite describe. It's like his name or presence is a grenade, and the moment it crosses paths with her, it goes off and sends her into this post-Vietnam state of annoyance.

"Is that why you're going to this thing? Because you want to talk to Luke?"

"Well,, yeah, I guess. Also because Kacey and Macey invited me, and not to mention it's a senior party."

I could see her reflection in the mirror; wide eyes and pale face.

"Well then..." she whispered. She paused for a second and I turned around to make sure she was okay, holding up my shirt my the tits because I was still yet to be zipped up.

She looked me dead in the eyes. "What am I going to wear?"

"Wha.."

She threw open my closet doors and flung clothes out this way and that, as I yelled at her to stop. It took me a whole day to arrange my closet to perfection!!

"What are you doing??" I yelled, grabbing one of her arms (my other hand still holding up my top).

"Picking my outfit," she said sternly. "If I can't stop you from going, I can at least tag along and protect you."

"You mean cockblock me."

"Same thing. Now help me out."

* * *

Half an hour later we'd strung together a look for Darla; a black tank top, white flannel, ripped blue jeans and my Doc Martins. It worked well with my floral studded bustier top, black skinny jeans and black and white Converse. I decided to put my hair up in a high ponytail for the party, something I don't usually do, but I wanted to show off as much of my neck for Luke as possible. I read in some trashy teen magazine that necks draw men back to their primitive hunting instincts or some bullshit like that.