bare [h.s.]

Return

I adjust the strap of my purse as I walk throughout the store with confidence. It has been a long time since I could go out in public by myself without being afraid. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what I was afraid of before, but now, since the talk I had with Harry nights before, I knew it was judgment.

From the moment I entered the store,
people looked at me like I was a captive animal on display at the local zoo. This town is small, and rumors spread like wildfire. And now,
it is my turn to get scorched.

I keep my head down as familiar faces whisper to others as I walk by.
A part of me wants to know what
they're saying about me, since
no one will ever know what really happened that night, and another
part tells me that if I find out,
I'll go back to being bad again.

I hide myself in the back of the store
and search the clothing racks for
an outfit to wear to a special
occasion; my eighteenth birthday.
Between keeping up with school work, therapy appointments, and
spending time with Harry,
I had completely forgotten that my
birthday was a week away.
I hold dresses that range in style
from black to polka dot patterns
up to my body, keeping the ones
I like draped over my arm as
I continue to peruse the selections.
My phone buzzes in my purse
and I balance the dresses on one
arm as I answer the call.

"Hello, you've reached the Hot Sex Hotline," I bite my lip to stop the laughter to avoid anymore
unwanted attention.

Harry chuckles on the other line,
"I meant to call my girlfriend, that's odd. But while I'm here..."

"Gross," I wrinkle my nose and start
walking toward the dressing rooms.

"Are you still coming over, babe?"

The dresses fall from my grip
before I can reach the rooms, and
I curse at my clumsiness before
kneeling down to gather them all.
"Yeah, I just stopped at the store first.
I was thinking about buying a dress."

"An early birthday present to yourself, huh? Fancy, fancy. I can't wait to rip it off of you--" he begins and I gasp
into the phone, causing him to laugh again.

"What are you trying to do here, Styles? I'm not having phone sex with you, pervert," I tease, my hands stopping from folding each dress over my arm once more when someone touches my shoulder.

"Oh, I thought this was the Hot Sex--"

"Harry," I panic, my fingers clenched
tightly around the phone.
My blood runs cold when I glance up slowly, the man keeping his hand firmly pressed onto my shoulder.
The phone is taken from my grip
before I can yell to Harry for help.

"She'll have to call you back," Elijah says, hanging up the phone before sliding it into his pocket.