Disguise♔ z.m

Thirty four

Slipping on an elegant black dress, I stare at my reflection and hum along to the recent songs I listened to while showering. I put on my moderately high pumps and walk a few metres to check whether it was worth wearing. I wear my hair into a high bun, where my cheeks look more prominent and my eyes look more defined. My collar bones were showing and I slightly trace the pad of my thumb over their structure. The cellphone I had purchased today rings, and Liam's number shows up again. I am really thankful to Yves for showing up today and setting my phone and explaining the basics. He considers me really old school, I guess.

I swap my finger over to the right and place the phone to my ear.

"Why have you been dodging my calls?"

"I've been busy," I comment offhandedly. It took a lot of thinking before I actually got over the fact that had he had spent a lot of time with Elle and he absolutely forgot about me. Jealousy is an understatement.

"Is that your excuse?"

"Basically it is," I put the phone on loudspeaker and spray my favourite perfume on my chest and wrist, the aroma lingering around the smooth air before it became thick with Liam's breathing.

"Are you angry because I said I spent my whole time with Elle?"

I stop breathing and I glance at the screen, watching the time tick.

"Are you?"

"Not really," I confidently answer.

"Don't lie to me Nora," he growls. "Why does she bother you so bad?"

"Let me think. The last time I checked, she freaking snogged my boyfriend and pretended to be okay with it," the perfume bottle makes a loud sound when it comes in contact with my Vanity Table.

"I don't get why you're so upset! How many times should I tell you there's nothing, absolutely nothing going on between us," I hear him pound his fist against something and his erratic breathing makes me feel rather unbalanced and insecure with the little sanity I have wuthering in this lonely place. I am completely doubtful of anything he does when relationships are not supposed to be that way. Relationships are supposed to make me understand the actual definition of trust and respect, not anger and jealousy.

"You're delusional," he is losing his temper and I don't need my mascara getting smudged right before meeting my parents.

"I am, Liam, I am," my voice was losing its tune and my hold was weakening. All I wanted him to do was ask for an apology and express his want for me just the way he always does. Is that too much to ask for?

"I am sorry," he says.

"We'll talk later," I look at my watch. Six thirty will arrive before I know it, so I quicken my pace of putting make up with the little skill I have and put the clothes into the hamper and arrange the little things I keep forgetting to do. I have a thing for neatness and even when I am angry, I seek that as my way of releasing anger. Funny if you might say.

My phone rings again and I am highly hoping it's not Liam.

Oh wait, it's Alexia.

"Hello?"

"The chauffer's waiting for you, Nora," she happily says and mischievously hums.

"I'll be right down." I slip my phone into my little purse and double check the lights. I lock the door and skim my way down the stairs since the elevator was full.

I arrive to the exit and see a black Jeep parked right in front- should be my parents'.

Opening the door, I see Alexia's long legs appear as an appeal, and as my eyes scan her tight coral dress, and fall on her short dyed blonde hair, I know I have missed way too much of her life.

"Oh my-" We end up into a tight hug where our screams are louder than the sounds coming from kids who just opened their presents.

I climb in, shutting the car's door with one hand.

She pulls away and takes her time to absorb her view.

"You're so slim! I am literally jealous," I'd take that as a compliment even though I hate it.

"You look even better! Your new hair colour fits you so much," I take the curled part of her hair into my hold and lift it up for a brief moment.

"I've got so much to tell you," from here, she keeps rambling on about how she met Paul, her seemingly hot fiancée. She describes to me the way he proposed, you know, the most overrated way a guy could ever think of- she wakes up in the morning, she follows the red petals set on the parquet, she ends up in the bathroom in front of her egg shaped tub filled with foam, and leans down to retrieve the little red box with a marry me letter twisted into a little hole that had her favourite symbol -the ship- holding her future together. She says he had serenaded her by bringing a group of men who played the violin -her favourite instrument- and sang her favourite song - a known classic that I am not willing to remember and not willing to know because I was a fiery opposite- all at one moment before kneeling on his knee and asking her the question that she had always wanted to hear.

"He's so thoughtful," I compliment. Really, he is. It might be a horrible cliché, but it was quite sweet to remember the things she loves. I am basically surer than a scientist who is sure of pure water's boiling point being hundred degrees Celsius that Liam can never remember the things I love.

"He is," she goes again showing off his job and ever thing else about him. She does avoid mentioning our parents because I am so sure we will have a lot of time to talk about them when we get there. I am excited to meet Paul, the one with gorgeous blonde hair and gleaming brown eyes- yet another great cliché that I am surprisingly jealous of.

It's so funny that the guys I have gone out with, are all different. None of them were sophisticated as Paul and none of them showered me with love- OBVIOUSLY!

"What about you, hun? Got any man?"

Let me count= Liam, Zayn, Marcel and so forth.

"Yeah, my boyfriend," I smile.

"Oh, wow! Do you have a picture of him?"

I remove my IPhone from my purse and check through the single picture I had. He was pouting though, and it was taken by my old phone during the day he took me Go-Karting.

"He's really good looking!" He's even better in bed, trust me.

"I guess he is," I shrug my shoulders and hope she doesn't go there with me.

"Have you guys.. you know.. done it yet?"

She looked so naive with her eyes all sparkling with innocence- laughing out loud.

"Yes we have," I say lower than usual in order for the chauffer not to hear us.

"Oh my! How was he?" I hope she still knows we aren't kids anymore.

"Good?" I laugh. "Great?"

"I did it with Paul last week!" She cheers and I face palm. This should be a long ride.

And I then remember, I was once like her before I began my job at Harvey's.