Look at Me - H.S.

~ Chapter 2 ~

I have never been this nervous and excited all at the same time. How do people do this?! I'm a flippin wreck! My palms are sweating, my heart feels like it's trying to escape from my chest and I keep holding my breath without even realising it. Number 15676 in the queue...I'm watching as the number goes down every time the page automatically refreshes. It's going quicker than I thought it would but it still feels like I'm slowly being tortured.

Thank God it's my day off again...what a stroke of luck that was. I wouldn't have even been able to do this if I was at work so thank you very much whoever chose which day these tickets would be released. I owe ya one!

It's 9:02am - the tickets have been on sale for all of 2 minutes and I swear it's the longest 2 minutes of my life! I daren't blink in case I miss my slot, the screen is becoming blurry and my eyes are stinging but I can't bear to look away.
Another 16 long minutes go by and it's finally my turn. I click the 'best seats' option and choose the first ones on the list. I honestly don't care where I'm sat, as long as I'm there. Quickly hitting the checkout button, with my bank card perched on the arm of the sofa next to the iPad. I enter the details as swiftly as I can, one more click and it's all done! We're going to see Harry Styles Live at Wembley Stadium!!

I release the breath I didn't know I was holding and blink furiously. I can't believe it. I'm actually going to see THE Harry Styles! I let out a triumphant squeal to myself and switch off the iPad. That was bloody exhausting but I couldn't be happier.

Only 86 days to go.

Now to crack on with the housework. As usual I twist my AirPods into my ears, select my favourite playlist and make a start.

After a couple of hours, I've managed to get the majority done, the beds have been stripped and remade with fresh sheets, the washing machine is whirring away, the bathrooms have been cleaned and the whole of the upstairs has been hoovered. I decided to take a quick break and flick the kettle on.

Pulling out my favourite mug (which just so happens to have Harry's smiling face plastered all over it. It was a secret Santa gift from someone at work. Meant to be a joke present, well... jokes on them because I bloody love it!) I chuck in a teabag, fill it with the boiling water and a splash of milk. I take a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and start to think back to the other day and the letter I wrote to Harry. My anxiety is starting to peak and I get a heavy feeling in my chest. Why did I do that?! I slap my palm to my forehead and groan. "Whoever gets a hold of that letter is going to think I'm a bloody lunatic" I mutter to myself. "Shit, I put my fucking phone number on there! Why Cassie, why would you do that?!" I scold myself. Huffing, I slouch down and rest my elbows on the table with my head in my hands. Idiot.

The loud 'ding-dong' of the doorbell yanks me out of my thoughts and I hurry to see who's at the door.

Pulling it open, the sun that's unusually bright for late January, blinds me temporarily before I can make out who it is. Putting my hand over the top of my eyes with my thumb against my forehead and my palm flat, making some sort of shield, my eyes adjust to see my Mum standing there with her arms folded across her chest. Her hair looking pristine as always, a chocolate brown, dead straight bob that reaches just below her jaw, her makeup is perfect with subtle pink lipstick that she wears every day without fail and a long navy blue wool coat hugging her body. The large gold buttons catching the sunlight as she stands. I don't even get the chance to say hello before she's huffing. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"

I open the door wider, giving her enough room to step past me.

We make our way into the kitchen and she stops. I can see her scanning the room until she spots my mug on the breakfast bar. Rolling her eyes, "Didn't fancy doing any cleaning today then Cassandra? Honestly, I don't know how Mark puts up with you. Working all those hours to come home to such a mess, that poor man"