The Timeline

48.

February 1st, 2017:

In true Harry Styles' Fashion, Claire had been sent a private car - a Range Rover, at that, because everyone in Los Angeles seemed to have big ass cars - to be brought to the birthday party.

In a - now - uncharacteristic loquaciousness with her, Harry had asked her the address of where she was staying, not commenting about the fact she was staying in a cheap ass hotel, and had asked her how she planned to get to the location of his birthday party. To which, Claire had answered that she had no idea, she would've probably called an Uber or gotten a bus there. Harry had scoffed - or, the text equivalent of that - and had informed her he'd be sending her a car around 7PM, so she'd have time to get changed after her full day of waiting to be called in. Claire hadn't opposed the idea, once she had discovered that it would've taken her about 1 hour and a half to reach the place by public transportation.

Her group of "friends" at the Talent Works establishments had diminished, as also Gavin and Benny had been called in the morning. Now, only Dinah remained. And talk between them wasn't as frequent as it used to be, because time was running out, and the two of them were on edge the whole time, waiting for their name to be called.

Claire had gotten home feeling all queasy, and not even the shower had been able to wash that feeling away. She didn't regret the fact she had accepted Harry's invite, not exactly. She was still of the idea that the two of them needed to talk it out before spending time together in any capacity, but as he had said, they wouldn't have been alone, not completely at least, so she didn't have to worry about that, at least.

She just hoped whatever happened that night, wouldn't have jeopardized her emotions to the point where she would've fucked up her audition, messing up a once in a lifetime experience.

Even that day she had felt exhausted, after her not-fight with Harry, and the two of them hadn't even interacted for the 90% of the night, since he had been pissed at her. And now, he wasn't pissed at her, she expected the two of them to interact a bit more that night, and she had no idea how she would've felt the following day.

Being around Harry had become exhausting, she realized, not because he was exhausting as a person, but rather because their situation was confusing and energy-draining. Claire's defenses were up around him, trying to protect her feelings and her mind, and every interaction took three times as much energy as it would've in the past. If they didn't sort things out soon, she thought she was going to either lose her mind or simply collapse from all those unspoken feelings.

Obviously, she hadn't brought with her clothes that could be considered fit for a millionaire's birthday party - the 23rd, to be exact! - because she hadn't planned on meeting with him at all, during her stay in Los Angeles. After her shower, she stood in front of her suitcase (she hadn't bothered putting things out and into the wardrobe) and studied what she had with her: comfortable clothes for her audition, and those wouldn't do, since it was all leggings and t-shirts. Mh. Her outfit from when she had boarded the plane also wasn't an option, because she hadn't washed it, and even if she had left it hanging in the room to get air, she still felt like it smelled of airplane, and she hated that.

She had her returning outfit, which consisted of a shoulder straps mini-dress that reached her mid-thigh and a long-sleeved white t-shirt. Plus thighs, obviously, because London was cold, unlike Los Angeles. And that day wasn't cold either, temperatures getting to 22°C. If she swapped shirts and thighs she could wear that, she reasoned.

She got dressed, opting for one of the short-sleeved white t-shirts; she could wear a jacket, and she bet the insides of the cafe would be heated. She opted for minimal makeup, because she didn't want to look like she was trying to over-do it for Harry's friends and all the famous people that would be there, but she also didn't want to look like she didn't care about her appearance. She knew how much all those people cared for it, and she knew that if she wanted to get into that world, she should start playing by its rules a bit. There wasn't much she could do for her hair - she had no hair straightener or curler - so she only tried to tame them into pliable waves using the phone and the broom the hotel had given for her inside of the bathroom.