STYLES | h.e.s

4

Sunday afternoon. An entire weekend has now gone by and Eliza still feels that Friday afternoon was only yesterday.

Hammersmith is still awake with locals out for the night. Trying to spend the last bit of the weekend doing something entertaining. Visiting Shepards Bush Market or drinking at the pubs before they return back to their dull careers tomorrow morning. Eliza wishes that was her, honestly.

Eliza hasn't heard anything from TeenStyles since she marched out of the office Friday. No one has called, there's no emails sitting on her laptop. Nothing. She is certain Mister Styles would have possibly reached out to her by now to let her know that she's been discharged from TeenStyles. Or at least Mister Tomlinson would have been the one to let her know. But no, Eliza now sits in her home in Hammersmith distracting herself as much as she can to not think about work.

Designing helps Eliza clear her mind more than drinking does anyway. It has been her go-to when life decides to manage against her. Sitting in the cramped design studio in her home, she silently sews on a breast pocket for a jacket she made over this weekend. In and out, out and in. The needle goes into the fabric stitching the breast pocket and is tugged by Eliza to secure it in place. Her phone wirelessly connected to the sound system in the room playing relaxing songs. Choosing not think about how she was warned by Mister Tomlinson not to lash out on Mister Styles again. To which was completely ignored.

A knock on the room's door catches Eliza's attention to pause all of her movements and remove her conscious from auto-pilot. Feeling the hours of being hunched over her desk sewing in her neck that she cranes back. Eyesight having to refocus on surroundings and seeing that the only light entering the room was the one lamplight in the far corner. Outside, only the street lamps that were turned on a while ago illuminate Hammersmith and Eliza's sorrows.

The door creaks open and a head peeks inside. "Hey," Ever York greets. "Everybody is here for Sunday book club. We're just waiting on you."

Eliza sighs eyeing away from her friend. Both had always known they would live together when they were growing up back in Carlisle. They were lucky that a family friend of the York's was leaving England to move to Belgium for the two to take the house and pay the family a reasonable amount for it.

"Start it without me," Eliza murmurs as she reals her head back down to watch where her fingers are and continues to sew. Ever eyes at Eliza with a knowing look of suspicion and opens the door wider to enter the room.

"You're sewing again," Ever points out.

Keeping her eyes down to watch her fingers that the needle isn't misplaced and enters into the wrong surface Eliza replies, "I am."

She has seen this before. Ever catches Eliza sewing when she is in a tough spot. Eliza used to sew so much when they were younger that Ever remembers she would come to school with bandages on every finger from pricking herself by accident.

With a roll of her eyes hearing Eliza's matter-of-fact tone, Ever closes the door behind her for the two to have some privacy from the people who could possibly eavesdrop from downstairs. She sits across from the distracted woman in the spare stool murmuring, "You've been in here all weekend long. Don't you want to come out and actually interact with some people?"

Eliza remains silent sewing with the music playing in the background. The song a bit up-beat not matching her mood.

"You can't stay locked up in here for the rest of your life you know."