Diana: One Direction Fanfic

Part 23: Panic and Janice

             “You know,” said Harry, “It’s been forever since we went on an actual date.” I thought back, trying to remember the last time we went out. “Well, we played laser tag a few times,” I reasoned. “Yeah,” he replied, “Which was awesome, but it wasn’t a date. It was laser tag.” “Are you asking me out on a date, Harry?” I asked coyly, but it surprised me just how fast my heart was beating at the possibility. “Yes,” he said, pulling me closer, “I am.” Then he paused. “Except I don’t really know where.” I rolled my eyes. “How about the movies?” I suggested. He shook his head. “No,” he said, “Then I won’t get to talk to you.” “Well then, we can go for dinner.” “Yeah,” he said slowly, “But I don’t want it to be just any date. I want it to be memorable.” “Then show up wearing a leotard,” I told him, laughing. “Or maybe nothing at all,” he smiled, winking cheekily. “Oh please, Harry, that would hardly be memorable. You’re always naked.” He looked down at himself and grinned. “True.” I rolled my eyes again and he kissed my cheek. “Alright,” he said, “Seven o’ clock tomorrow, we’re going on a date.” “Whe-” “And,” he added, putting a finger to my lips, “It’s a surprise.”

I had no idea where we were going. Which meant I had no idea what to expect, and no idea what to wear. I had never been good at wardrobe. If I had to describe my style of clothes in one word, I think that word would probably be ‘blah’. And that was being kind. Usually, I just bought whatever was on sale and fit me. Which meant my closet was filled with t-shirts sporting random brands I had no idea about, bland jeans, yoga pants, and sweatpants, and socks and underwear. Honestly. I had about three cardigans and a sweater, and that was basically my entire selection of clothing. I desperately swept through my closet, pushing things aside and trying to find one decent thing to wear, but it was full of the same junk. Come to think of it, I didn’t even think I owned a single dress or skirt. I wondered for a moment if there was anyone I could borrow an outfit from for tonight and realized that I had literally no girlfriends. Or friends of any other kind, for that matter. God, why was I such an introvert? Now I was in a near-crisis situation. I’d never given much thought to clothes before, being busy drowning in misery and whatnot, and now I was paying the price for it. I groaned in the realization that I was going to have to go shopping. And this time, I couldn’t just throw in whatever looked wearable. I had to go shopping. This was not going to end well.

            I pulled up at the local mall and parked my piece of shit car, looking up at the huge building. There were so many stores in there. How would I know which one was the right one? I got out of the car and walked inside, trying to look nonchalant and totally sure of myself like everybody seemed to be. As I walked down the long strip, I looked around at all the different brands, wondering which one I could even afford, which one had the right kind of clothes, and then what exactly I even meant by ‘the right kind of clothes’.  There seemed to be a lot of people in a particular store named Guess, so I walked in and looked around at everything, trying to decide if there was anything worth my while. There was a dress that I thought looked kind of cute, so I pulled out the tag to check the price: $239.99. I fast-walked out of that store like there was a fucking yeti behind me.

Okay, so at least I had crossed one place off my list. Now, there was about thirty stores left. Great. “Um, excuse me,” A woman came up to me, looking to be in her late thirties, “You look a little lost.” “Oh, hey,” I said, wincing, “Is it really that obvious?” She nodded, smiling warmly. “I’m Janice,” she said, extending her hand. “Hi,” I said, shaking it, “I’m Diana.” Janice had long dark brown hair that was pulled up into an elegant bun on the top of her head, and she was dressed like she just came out of a business meeting. At Vogue magazine. Her eyes were bright and her mouth looked like it was often smiling. I didn’t know why, but an image suddenly popped up in my brain about my mother. Of course, I’d never met her, and in fact, I’d never even seen pictures, but the image was of how I’d always imagined her to be like if she was alive today. And in my head, she had always looked almost exactly like Janice. A wave of nostalgia hit me like a waterfall and I immediately felt at ease with her, this woman I’d never even met before. “Well, Diana,” she said, “I made a promise at church today to help a stranger in need. So, what can I do for you?” I smiled in relief.