Polite//l.s

Twenty Two

"Louis invited my to a party," I told Gemma as we walked through the garden, the beautiful flowers surrounding us were only in season for a few weeks; so it was nice to enjoy them while we could.

"When?" She asked, twirling the umbrella she carried to shade her from the sun.

"Tomorrow," I replied. It had been a couple days since I had seen Louis, but he had left a note at the hotel saying that we should meet at his house at 6:30 so we could get ready together and eat.

"What the fuck?" Gemma gasped.

"Please watch your language," I spoke quietly, being ignored as she talked over me.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Was this an event you felt you should have been informed about?" I stopped walking so we could sit at one of the tables set up through the garden.

"Uh, yeah?" He spoke as if this was something I should have known, "What are you going to wear?"

"What I always wear to parties," I frowned, she knew how to dress for a party. I don't know why she was asking.

"Oh god, Harry you are not going to wear a suit to the party Louis invited you to,"

"Why? Do you think a suit is too casual? Should I rent a tuxedo?" I didn't know if I could get one on such short notice.

"We're going shopping," she grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards the door leading to the house.

"Right at this moment?" I gasped as she had pulled me through the entire downstairs and out the front door.

"Yes," she motioned for me to get into the car with her, "I'm driving,"

"There's no driver?" I didn't know Gemma could drive. I've only seen the professionals do it.

"Nope," she let the sound resonate loudly through the vehicle, "Don't want anyone to see the things in going to force you to buy," she smirked wildly for no obvious reason.

"What kind of things require hiding?"

"Lingerie," she spoke shortly.

"That's for females," I had seen pictures in the magazines Louis and Zayn had showed me. All women.

"I'm sure Louis would appreciate it."

"Really?" I felt my face brighten. As long as Louis will like it.

Sister only laughed at that, pulling off the interstate after a couple of minutes and swinging recklessly into the mall parking lot.

I felt surprisingly at ease with her reckless abandon of the fear of death.

"Let's go to American-Eagle," she suggested (sorry I don't know any English stores)

I only nodded at the proposition, having never been to a store of that name.

"Oh yeah," she held up a plaid red shirt as we entered the store, "I'm thinking 'Rich-Lumberjack-Fuckboy' type of thing,"

"What?" I furrowed my eyebrows, taking the shirt from her possession. She only loaded several more pieces of apparel into my arms.

After ten minutes, I could feel my arms growing weaker. "Can we just try this for now?"   I spoke from behind the mound.

She didn't reply; well she might have nodded her head, but I couldn't see over the pile; leading me towards the back of the store and pushing me into a secluded room with mirrors all around.

That was sort of rude. She might be menstruating, and it would be very unkind to bring that kind of subject up. I silently promised myself I wouldn't press Gemma about her mood.

"Put on the black pants," she called through the door.

"Which ones?" I held up three. One of them was plain black and loose fitting, the other two looked extremely tight. The second of the last two looked like a little less than what I would qualify as pants. There were more holes than fabric.

"Just pick one and wear one of the shirts with it," she called back, "Do I need to come in there and dress you myself?"

"Please do not do that," I slipped the torn jeans over my pale legs. I needed a tan rather badly.

There was silence for a while as I tried on a plain white shirt and pulled the plaid shirt over the top of it, buttoning it all the way up to the collar, "Is this what you wanted?" I stepped out of the dressing room for Gemma to see.

"Uh, no," she stood from the bench beside me, unbuttoning the shirt. "This is what I'm talking about.

She turned me around to face the mirror and scuffed up my hair a bit, sweeping it up a bit.

"I look like a homeless man!" I protested as she rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, I had to let her; as not to be rude.

"You look like a teenager," she corrected, finding a few necklaces to slip over my head. I looked like I belonged in a band.

"Are you going to give me a hat to collect the money I earn from begging in the street?" I asked, turning around to see her holding a pair of boots, "Maybe a sign reading 'Will strip for food'?"

"Louis' really gave you an attitude," Gemma widened her eyes as she set the boots down, motioning for me to put them on.

"I'm sorry," I laced the boots quickly, hopefully to make up for my mouth, "I didn't mean to offend you,"

"Harry! It's good that you are speaking your mind! You need to develop a personal opinion, you need a personality!"

"I do have a personality," I grumbled quietly and stood up to take in my appearance.

"Yep, we're buying it," She spoke when she saw the whole thing together.

"Which one?" I pointed to the getup. I don't particularly like the pants.

"All of it," she pushed me into the dressing room.

"Change into your normal clothes and gather up the rest of the stuff you've got in there," she slammed the door behind me, scaring me.

"I haven't tried it all on yet," I stripped of my shirt and pants, folding them nearly with the rest of the clothes.

"Shutup and do it,"

It wouldn't be very polite to disobey, even if her harsh tone stung.