My Bestfriend, Harry Styles

Chapter 4

Tara's POV:

I watched Taylor uneasily in the mirror as she finished doing my hair. She'd just finished giving me advice on how to act and I have to admit that it was slightly unnerving. She was now singing along lightly to some music on her iPod, some Michael Bublé to be precise.

"All done!" She said happily. I stood up and twirled in the mirror. Not bad actually... She'd lightly curled my hair at the ends, and added some volume to the top. "Now for the makeup!" She exclaimed.

"Uh uh! No way!" I quickly said, backing away. "I'll do it myself, promise!" Taylor looked at me slightly crossly, but rather than complaining, she just stalked out of the room. Probably to find Harry. I sigh, slouching back into my desk chair. They'd been all over each other since we'd got back from Anne's. I felt very much like a third wheel, and I didn't really like it. I sat back up straight and quickly wiped a make up remover pad over my face. There, a blank canvas. I took a deep breath before beginning to work on my masterpiece. A base of foundation liquid was applied, followed by a light bronzer and a bit of blusher on my cheek bones. I continued on, to apply some gold eyeshadow and eyeliner, which I shaped to little flicks in the corners of my eyes. Finally I put on some light mascara to further highlight my blue-grey eyes. They didn't feel like they were anything special to me, so this bit of artwork should help them.

I stood up and looked at myself proudly in the mirror. From neck upwards I had to admit I looked pretty good. I admired my long gold curls which fell down my back with my sparkling blue-grey eyes. Unfortunately... From neck down I looked pretty casual, in a pair of Harry's rolled JW trackies, bra and a zip up navy hoodie.

"Bloody hell, why can't we just turn up to clubs in PJ's?" I mutter, annoyed with the fashionable hierarchy which destroys everyone's social lives.

Quickly I opened my wardrobe next to my dresser. Dresses. Fortunately for me, they were not one thing I was missing. They made me feel beautiful, and I enjoyed wearing them. However, what would fit Taylor's description? Short and tight. Short - no problem. My legs were one thing I was rather proud of, as I swam fairly frequently. Tight - now that was another matter all together.

After a couple of minutes of searching, I finally retrieved a beautiful black strapless dress that one of my school friends had once lent me for a party, and promptly gave it to me fairly quickly after I tried it on, saying that she would always feel like she was in my shadow when I looked so good in her dress. I'm not complaining. The dress WAS gorgeous. The whole thing was lightly decorated with black sequins, apart from a thick leather strip which ran around my waist. On the chest, it was structured, so that it was a push up for my boobs, but dropped down to show a v of skin in between my boobs, all the way down to my leather waist.

I pulled it from the wardrobe, closing it behind me. I stripped off everything. I then put on a black thong (so it wouldn't leave a panty line), undid the zip at the back of the dress, and hiked it up so it sat on me properly.

Now was the tricky part. The zip.

If you are a girl, you know the dilemma I was faced with.

I could either hop around like a deranged bunny attempting to do up the zip while it's still behind me, or, I could turn the dress round and do the zip up at the front and instead have to do the malfunctioning worm, while I try to wiggle the dress round to the front.

I decided on the first option.

Mistake number one.

I reached behind me to the base of the zip, which lay just beneath the top of my thong. I grabbed it and began to cautiously pull it up. When the zip got to what would be bra height (I wasn't wearing a bra), I arched my back with my head back to try and get it higher. That was mistake number two. Mistake number three was when I tried to pull my head back up.