Silk || hs

That's What She Said

"Harry, I literally have nothing to wear to this thing, you should just go without me," I groan, looking through my closet in search of an outfit for this birthday dinner. Harry told me it was this weekend, but he didn't tell me that it was Friday night... aka literally the day after he invited me to the damn thing. Boys really are stupid; they don't understand that girls need at least a week of prep time, like c'mon man.

Harry is laying sprawled across my bed, flipping through my copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, literally contributing no solution to my current predicament. The party starts in three hours, and he can't seem to focus on anything other than the stupid comments I wrote in the margins of that damn book. I'm just kidding, I adore that book. Harry is just frustrating me, so I apologize to Oscar Wilde for bringing Dorian Gray into this.

"No, I already told mum you're coming, and she is not the type of woman that you want to disappoint," Harry says nonchalantly, like there is no problem in the world. He stops flipping through my book, and looks up at me with wide eyes.

Temporarily ignoring my impending wardrobe malfunction, I turn to Harry and huff in annoyance, "What is it, now?"

Harry sits up on the bed, holding the book out in front of him dramatically, and begins to read, "'I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.'"

Ha, the ability to control your emotions would be nice. It sure would save me a lot of worrying.

"What about it?" I ask impatiently, hoping to get back to the task at hand.

Harry frowns, "Next to that rather depressing and ominous passage, you wrote 'mood.'"

I shrug with a quiet laugh, "I mean, that is my mood."

"That's really not a healthy mindset," Harry scolds me, standing from my bed and walking over to my closet. He begins looking through the many shirts and dresses like he actually knows what he's doing, and I can't help but scoff at the fact that he thinks he can find something in here that I couldn't.

"That's what Basil told Dorian, but look where that got him," I counter, hoping he'll get too annoyed by me to let me go with him tonight. This scheme has worked with my parents once before, so maybe it will work with him as well.

Harry rolls his eyes and continues looking through my closet, his eyes lingering on that slutty red dress I wore that night I slept at his apartment for the first time. I smile at the memory as Harry rather aggressively pushes it away and pulls a hanger from the rack.

"You should wear this." Harry holds up a cream-colored dress that I forgot I had. Okay, wow. Let me just say this is like one of those moments when you lose something and you spend hours looking for it with no success. But then your mother comes around and literally finds it in four seconds so that you look like an idiot. Yeah, that's the feeling I'm sporting just about now.

"Are you sure?" I ask, trying to make his choice seem less like the obvious one even though it totally is. If I question it, then I'm not as stupid-looking.

He nods, handing it to me and resuming his place on my bed, "Yes, now can we please watch a movie or something? I'm tired of sitting here watching you stress out about this."

First of all, rude. This is a very important evening for me, so pardon me if I don't want to fuck it up. Second of all, does he not realize how long it's going to take for me to get ready for this thing? I tried to convince him not to come over because I knew he would get bored, but he insisted that he wouldn't. Here we are not even thirty minutes later and the man is complaining. Hm.. I wonder why?