Lucia swirled her spoon in her tea, watching me over the breakfast island.
"You look like a twat."
I turned to look at her, my jaw slack. I was wearing one of her dresses, but it hung loose on my frame where it would usually hug her hips. I danced around in it anyway, to her loud amusement.
"Well, that's it then. We better look on Boohoo, you still have next day delivery?".
She hummed yes, unlocking her phone and pulling up the app.
"We can't spare any expense you know, her wedding has to have high security measures because apparently some of her guests are just that famous." Luci muttered, scrolling past dress after dress. I looked around at our small two bed apartment with the awful worn sofa I'd got for fifty quid from The British Heart Foundation on our high street.
We just weren't meant to mingle with celebrities. We were entirely normal. Our friend Danni, on the other hand, had made it big as a fashion designer, her life picking up speed faster than any of us could have predicted. I remember flipping through a magazine on my bus home and being shocked to see her beautiful smiling face staring up at me from a double page spread, talking about the wardrobe behind another hit television show. She took it all in her stride, and carried herself with confidence and class. It was impressive, really.
"Oh, now that would suit you." Lucia gushed, holding up her phone to show me a fitted red slip dress with an appealing 40% off.
I nodded, "It's nice."
My mind immedietly jumped to Dan, who loved when I dressed up all nice, especially in the little red dress I saved for special occassions. I'd given it to the local charity shop after he left. I just couldn't stand to look at it. His new girlfriend was more dressy than me, better suited to him by all means. There was no chance he was coming back.
Lucia added the dress to her basket and I pulled my seat closer so I could see the outifts she was considering for herself. Naturally, she noticed my silence and pulled my head onto her shoulder.
"You never know Soph, you could meet the love of your life at this wedding, and you'll never think of that stupid twat ever again."
I laughed and wrapped my arms around her, "Don't get my hopes up like that."
We had to drive up into London for the wedding, where we were staying at the Richmond Hill hotel. The day was bright and gorgeous, and hanging my head out of the window whilst Lucia blasted upbeat songs made me feel like a teen in a coming of age movie where everything truly would be alright. I kept reminding myself that I was actually 25, single and hopeless, with my writing making next to no money and the rent on the flat only getting higher as the years went on. The time for making mistakes and being young and dumb was well and truly over. 17 year old me would be thoroughly disappointed at the life I was living, I was sure of it.
We arrived mid morning, and became giddy with excitement at just how fancy our cosy little hotel room was. We were sharing a double bed, which was draped with expensive linen and velvet pillows. Immedietly, Lucia threw herself on top of it, gasping at how comfy it was. I watched her curl up, perfectly content.
"We have a wedding to get to Luc" I reminded her, holding up our dress bags, "And I want you to curl my hair before we go."
She groaned, but sat back up and nodded, "You're right."
When we had both squeezed into dresses, zipped them up for each other, refreshed our makeup and styled our hair, we stood in front of the full length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at ourselves.
"I still don't think we look A list enough for Danni's wedding." I smirked, smoothing my hands down my dress.
Lucia shrugged, unbothered, "It's fine, we have each other."
I grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly, "I love you, you know."
She nodded, "I know. I saved you from the big scary heartache and now you owe me everything. I know."
I shoved her and we were laughing again, our spirits high.
Luc grabbed her phone, her eyes lighting up, "The taxi's here, let's go!"
I grabbed my clutch from the bed and made towards the door, teetering slightly in my tall heels.
The wedding was more than extravagant. Held in a huge, airy conservatory at the Royal Kew Gardens, the place was overflowing with lush greenery and flowers. We walked in through two huge white glass doors that had been flung open, and rows of chairs lay before an altar decorated with delicate pink flowers. Guests were taking their seats, gathering up long elegant dresses and adjusting ties on expensive suits, which only added to the grandeur of the scene. Our heels clicked loudly against the floor as we made our way to a row towards the back, sitting on the left. I didn't recognise many people, just one or two members of Danni's family towards the front, and her future husband pacing nervously up and down the altar.
"Where's all the famous people then?" Lucia whispered, digging me in the ribs. As if on queue, two members of a security crew took station at either side of the doors, calming watching the room. Luc and I both shamelessly stared, not used to such things, and a few moments later a man in a fitted baby pink suit entered with who I presumed was his bodyguard. The guard was huge, at least seven ft tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms.
"Go and grab yourself a drink at the cafe, this'll be fine." the guy smiled, nodding to the guard, who turned away and left him by himself. He walked in, adjusting his cuff links and admiring the beautiful location. I recognised him immedietly, and turned to Lucia in excitement.
"Is that-?" Luc grinned.
I nodded, stealing a glance in his direction in disbelief, "It's fucking Harry Styles."
We both clasped our hands to our faces, supressing giggles. He strode past us and greeted someone else, hugging them tightly.
"How the fuck does she know him!?" I whispered, watching him take a seat three rows in front of us, chatting casually.
"She worked on Dunkirk, didn't she? They must have gotten along."
I shook my head, completely amazed. He gently stretched his arms above his head, his tight sleeves rolling up slightly to show his tattooed arms. He wore several rings and I noted that his fingernails were also painted pink. My stomach was doing flips, and I found myself taking a few deep breaths to calm down. God, what was I? Some crazed fan girl? I had to pull myself together. This was a very fomal event, and I would behave myself. Right?
