Misconceptions 》Styles

12.00

Then

    “Hey there Speckles,” Harry calls, a smirk on his lips and an evil glint to his emerald eyes. “What are you wearing a dress for, Sky? Hoping to impress me? I’m not attracted to fat zombies, by the way. Speckled faces either.”

    “Go away.” I growl, my grip tightening on the bottle of water I held within my grip. The room was spinning and Harry was doing nothing to lessen the feeling, only angering me and causing my body to react even worse. I stare at the lone apple that sits on my tray and I slowly uncap the bottle of water in my grasp, bringing it to my lips.

    “Is that all you’re eating?” He questions, sliding into the empty seat beside me, his tray joining him.

    “I had a big breakfast.”

    “Big enough to last nine hours off of water and an apple smaller than my hand?”

    “You have big hands you arse. Leave me alone.” I feel his eyes drilling into my skin and I glance upwards, our gazes locking together.

    “Skylar-”

    “Why are you talking to pizza face? You’ll catch her disease if you’re around her too long. You know, insanity ridden fat arse? Who is also hideously ugly, by the way.” One of Harry’s mates comments, his arms crossed over his chest. I press my lips together and continue to stare at Harry who’s hands are twitching. He looks over at his mate and then smirks at me, rising off of the seat across from me. His fingers curl around his tray and before I can react, he flips it over above my head. The ice from his lemonade drips down my back and I jump up in my seat, screeching. My hair is stuck to my face, the sticky texture from his drink gluing it to my skin. Chips are down my shirt, ketchup staining my dress.

    “Thought maybe you were hungry, Specks.”

Now

    “Aren’t you going to eat something before the show? Work with a clear head?” Harry says softly, his hand resting near mine. I swallow the lump in my throat and blink slowly, wishing that for once I could be honest. I wished, I honestly wished that I could eat. If I could, I would eat that entire table. I would have one cookie, then another and another. I’d shove the miniature sandwiches into my mouth as if my tongue were on a conveyor belt. Scarf down so many pizza bagels that I wouldn’t be able to move. Instead I reach a shaking hand towards a slice of watermelon and I put it on the plate in my hand, Harry watching my every move.

   “I’m already not feeling well. Too much food would make it worse.” I say almost automatically, a string of excuses always at the ready and installed into my brain. I cut the watermelon into eight slices and then shove it into my mouth, chewing eleven times before swallowing. “What are you staring at me for, Styles?”

    “I’m just observing you.”

    “Well knock it off,” I snap, placing another wet slice on my tongue and chewing it the same number of times as the last.

    “Where is Raoul? Where?!” Randy screeches, breathing heavily and running frantically.

    “Oh dear.” Raoul mutters, swiping cookie crumbs off of his  vest and adjusting his head piece. “Over here Miss Randy-”

    “Styles and Grayson to your dressing rooms, Lawrence is on his way and we’re bringing out the new pieces. Raoul, hurry up!”

••••

    “Can you turn the heat up?” I say quietly, my arms around my body.

    “I will try, Miss Grayson. Here, put this gown on with the shoes. Don’t forget Harry’s necklace.” I nod slowly and wait until he leaves the room before I begin to peel off my clothing. Avoiding the mirror, I tug the dress up over my tree trunk legs and boulder of a stomach, moving all too slowly because of the pounding in my head.