The Things You Mean to Me // Harry Styles Series #1 - Holmes Chapel

Pretty When You Cry

Sammi lived in a little development a mile out of town, where the houses were all separate, and bigger, with nice gardens, which are yards not vegetable patches.  Hers was really pretty, red brick with white trim. It would have fit right into my neighborhood at home.

There was pizza delivered for dinner, and we ate off our laps in front of a crackling fire and the finale of a show called Celebrity Big Brother. The other girls loved it, but I'd never been a fan of trashy reality TV. It was cozy, and Sammi's parents were nice. She gave one-syllable answers to their questions, in a tone that said 'you're stupid,' and they seemed pleasantly surprised when I had an actual conversation with them.

The four of us went up to Sammi's room for makeovers. There was so much makeup and skin care in the bathroom that she could have opened a Sephora right there. I've never been much for makeup, so I just let the girls work on me.

It wasn't bad. They had managed to make my cheekbones seem more defined, and my eyes looked the most violet I'd ever seen, surrounded by charcoal liner and shadow and lots of black mascara. I didn't dislike it, but it was more than I'd even wear to prom or something like that, much less a regular day at school.

Sammi's mom came to see us before she went to bed, and took a minute to make nice comments on each of our makeovers. After a big hug for Sammi, and sweet pats on the head for the rest of us, she said goodnight.

Almost before she had left the room, Sammi was rolling her eyes and complaining about how dumb and annoying her mother was. Of course I was thinking of what I'd give to have a mom like that. To have a mom at all. Before I knew it, I was crying.

"What're you crying for?" Imogen interrupted Sammi's diatribe.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed, "I was thinking about my mom. I just miss her a lot, and sometimes it's hard seeing my friends with their moms. I'm ok." I looked in the mirror and was amazed by the rivers of black that flowed down my cheeks from my eyes. It was impressive. I frowned a bit, thinking I looked a bit like a ghoul, which made me smile.

"See, I'm good now."

Soon it was time for the high school confidential part of the night. I had already decided to be very careful about what I told them, and they were obviously frustrated when I wouldn't give them details about stuff I'd done with Jason. Then they wanted to know about Callum. I made it clear that some snogging was the extent of things. Sammi really wanted to know if his equipment was adequate, and although I did have a rough idea, I pleaded innocent. Disappointed, Sammi seemed to decide she'd get a rise out of me another way.

"D'you know I dated your friend Harry? The things I could tell you about his... what do you yanks call it? His junk."

I didn't take the bait, so she went there all by herself.

"I suppose he was an ok kisser, but didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Or his wee willy!" She gave one short, ugly laugh, then leaned in conspiratorially. "I'll tell you why we never shagged... I was afraid I wouldn't know it was in there." She straight up cackled.

Imogen gave me a sly side eye before she chimed in.

"Might not want to get too friendly with him now, Olivia. You're probably used to big strapping cowboys."

I was done with this.

"I was having a lot of fun, ladies, but I'm not really interested in talking shit behind people's backs. I think I'm going to go to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning.

I used the bathroom, washing my face clean, and took the quilt I'd been given down to the living room, where I snuggled up on the sofa and watched the dying embers in the hearth until I fell asleep.