a taste like kiwi ↠ [h.s]

X. Sex Object

↠  

Your shift was cut an hour early. Mr. Styles informed you through email saying you needed to go home and get ready for the party. So you left home, taking the expensive clothes you and Mia had shopped for earlier that day. Once you were home, you searched through the various bags for a dress. All you knew about the party was it is very formal, so you grabbed a strapless tight black dress. The fabric was very soft, feeling as if it could easily slip off your body. You groomed your hair as best you could and slipped into some heels. You knew you'd regret wearing such high heels, but it matched your dress perfectly. 

A soft ringtone escaped your phone, turning your attention away from the body mirror. You grabbed your phone, reading over the text message from Mr.Styles.

You replied:

Soon enough, there was a honk outside. Just to be sure, you looked out the window down below. Sure enough, there was a black limo parked beside the curb just outside the apartment building. You grabbed your small purse, walking out. You stepped in front of the side door and swung it open--Layla's eyes stared at you, "Hi sweetie." She smiled, adjusting her arm so it was locked around Mr. Styles's. She waved you in with her free hand, "Don't be shy, come on in."

You climbed inside, sitting a fair distance away from Layla and Mr. Styles. Her eyes burned into you, as if she was daring you to speak.

You didn't.

Your eyes glanced to Mr. Styles who was focused on his phone, staring down to the screen. You quickly looked away, knowing damn well Layla saw you look at him. Layla spoke in a petty tone during the drive, "I didn't know you lived in such a slum area--"

"Be nice."  Mr. Styles said in a blunt tone, his eyes still locked on his phone.

"I'm just saying,"  Layla shrugged at him before turning her attention back to you, "Why do you live there? You seem like the type of person who takes very good care of themselves, knowing how dangerous it is to live in such an area."

You bit your tongue from shouting words. You replied softly, "It's not a slum area. You just have higher priorities."

Mr. Styles sighed as he stuffed his phone inside his blazer, "It's true, Layla. (Y/N) is middle class."