The Devil Wears Saint Laurent (h.s.)

chapter twenty

SORT OF DOUBLE UPDATE FOR YOU ANGELS!

One of the hardest things I've ever had to do was go back to work, pretending nothing happened. Pretending Harry and I were never a thing, pretending I never loved him, pretending I wasn't completely heartbroken.

I was at his fitting for The Burberry fashion show. I stood alone and stared at my feet as the day went by. I couldn't bear to look at Harry, I knew the minute I looked into his eyes, I would break down completely. He didn't bother to look in my direction either, so I guess that made it a little easier. Liv, his stylist came up to me and suspected I was upset and I just shrugged her off, telling her I was just dealing with personal stuff. Like that wasn't the understatement of the year.

"Charlotte! Please come here." Liv called and I dreadfully walked over to where her and Harry were standing.

As I approached them, I looked down at my feet avoiding his gaze. "Charlotte we need your opinion honey, does this look too bland for the show?" Liv asks.

I turned my head up, and felt my chest ache as soon as my eyes met with his. I shook my head quickly, not even taking the outfit into detail. "It looks fine, but what do I know about fashion?" I mutter and walk away.

I try and find a bathroom to cry my eyes out for the second time today and make my way over to the one near a table with jewelry on it. As I was opening the door, I felt someone grab my wrist. I turn and see Harry looking at me with sad eyes.

All of my sadness and heartbreak in that moment, turned to anger and hatred towards him. I yanked my wrist away from him, "Don't fucking touch me." I spit and his eyes widen.

"You're not gonna quit right?" He asks and I stand confused as to why he cares.

"Why would I quit?"

"Charlotte-" I interrupt him from speaking.

"It's not like anything happened right? So why would I quit my job I've killed myself to get? Over some spoiled little man brat and his shitty attitude, get over yourself Harry. Better yet, go ask Tea to help with you that. I'm sure she'd love to." I manage to say without any sobs or tears.

He stands speechless and I walk into the bathroom and I let out everything I had been holding in. Although it felt good telling Harry off, it was also extremely painful. I didn't at all feel bad for doing it, it felt amazing, but facing him was something I was planning on pushing off for a while. I am glad to get it off chest and out of the way, I guess.

After the fitting, I drove back to my apartment. I opened my door and found little Cheeto laying on a shirt I had left on the floor. My daily routine, ever since what happened was depressing to say the least. I would wake up, cry, eat breakfast, cry, go do whatever I had to do, cry some more, come home and watch tv with Cheeto, skip dinner, lie in bed and cry myself to sleep.

Maybe the skipping dinner part was a lie, I was one of those people who wouldn't eat when I was upset, but surprisingly I had been craving so many sweets and junk food. So really, my dinners included Nutella and peanut butter sandwiches, along with cheeze doodles, and lots of strawberry kiwi Snapple. I don't know what had gotten into me.

Cara and Abbey would usually call me throughout the day and ask how I was doing, I'd lie to them and say "better" just to keep them from worrying about me. I was fine though, I was miserable yes, but I wasn't suicidal or anything. I knew that one day I'd get over all of this, I was just heartbroken.

I was sitting on my couch, petting little Cheeto who was laying on my lap. MTV was having reruns of Jersey Shore that I was invested in. My phone rang, interrupting me and Cheeto's reality TV marathon. I picked up my phone seeing it was Abbey, "Hello?" I answered.