𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑! | harry styles

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈

THE dress code for today is all white. I have to attend a women's luncheon outside of the city. It is being put on by a nice group of women who live in the Boston area and help out with the arts. I had donated some money a couple months back and as a thank you, they invited everyone to a light lunch party.

I was going to decline the invitation, but since my name is on the program as a "Gold Member", I thought it might be prudent for me to attend.

My crisp white dress is perfect to catch some of the breeze that is flowing through the city. Wonderful day for a lunch outside.

The drive is pleasant and the scenery fades from tall buildings to thick green trees as I leave the city. The gathering is going to be at a country club, on a golf course specifically, and I don't really know how today is going to turn out. I usually have to keep to myself at events like this. I'm young enough to probably be some of these ladies' granddaughter. Yet, I'm going to be conversing with them and talking as if we're old friends.

My phone rings while I'm on the highway, and I put it on speaker when I see Phoebe's number.

"Hi," I say loudly.

"Hi. You know, I was thinking, maybe you should go see a therapist or some shit like that."

"And why would I go see a therapist?"

"For someone to talk to. Someone who won't judge you or have any prior knowledge of the situation. It might be nice to get a third party view."

"I think I'm okay, Phoebe. I don't need to be put on suicide watch."

"I'm not saying you do, but it might help."

"Help? Help with what? I'm fine."

"You are most definitely not fine." She scoffs. "You didn't see what you looked like a month ago. It was scary, Alyssa. You were so withdrawn and sad. I don't ever want to see that again."

"Phoebe, listen..."

"No, you listen, it scared me. Obviously this thing with Harry is affecting you more than you want to realize. I'm not trying to push you around, but please promise me you'll think about it."

I sigh, defeated. She's my older sister and as much as I hate to admit, she knows me rather well.

"Okay, I will think about seeing someone."

"Good." Phoebe lets out a deep breath. "Now I can sleep and not worry about you so much. What are you doing?"

"Driving to that ladies' lunch I told you about last week."

"Oh, yeah. That sounds like fun."

"Are you being sarcastic? I can't tell."

She laughs at me, "Have fun at your old people's thing."

Phoebe hangs up on me a second later, and I roll my eyes at her immaturity.

I only drive about ten more minutes before I arrive at the country club, and a nicely dressed valet is there to take my car. Another valet leads me through the nice restaurant and out the back towards the golf course.

The lawn is beautifully done in circular tables under light blue tents. Bright green centerpieces sit on each table, which also hold place cards with seating arrangements.

Men walk around with appetizers and flutes of champagne. I snag one and take a small sip, letting the bubbles fill my throat.

Time to mingle.

Several of the ladies know who I am and make a point to say hello. Many of them ask me how my mother is doing, and I only say good things. They also ask me how I'm coping with the passing of my father. Even though Carl died almost a year ago, people still feel the need to show me sympathy. Maybe they're just being nice, but I'm kind of getting tired of it.