You Can't Sing Without Air- Harry Styles Fanfic

49. Welcome to the Final Show

ONE YEAR LATER

"What time does it start again?" My roommate Tara asks me, popping her head into my bedroom for what has to be the tenth time today.

"Eight! Seriously, you have the memory of a goldfish!" I respond with a smile.

Tara puts her hands on her hips.

"Actually, studies have show that goldfi-"

"Mhm, fascinating." I interrupt. "Which dress?" I ask, holding up my two options.

One is black and slim, with a cutout near the neckline that's so low I'm sure I'd have to use tape to keep my non-existent boobs in. The other is sky blue with flowers around the trim. It's cutesy from the front, but the back has a deep cut out. I twirl the hangers in my hands, showcasing the options.

"Wow, sexy." Tara teases.

I roll my eyes, holding the dresses out in impatience.

"Okay, okay. Um... the blue would go really well with your eyes, but if you're looking to get some eyes on you... I'd go with black."

I consider the black dress again. It's skimpy for even my standards, but Tara's right. If I'm looking for attention this dress will get it.

"Okay, black it is." I say, tossing the dress on my bed.

"What about you, what are you wearing?" I ask.

"Eh, probably something with jeans and heels." She says nonchalantly.

That's one of things I love about Tara, her go-with-the-flow mentality. It was one of the first things that drew me to her as a potential roommate. After all I've been though, I don't have the energy to deal with petty roommate drama. I guess I made the right choice, because so far there hasn't been any.

"Okay but I don't want to look too dressed up." I say.

"You won't be. You know how many girls will be vying for the attention of the same guy you are? You'll fit right in!"

I throw a pillow at her.

"Hey!" She says.

"So I'm going to look like a groupie, is that what you're saying?" I tease.

"No, no." She protests. "Well...."

I throw another pillow at her. She catches it, aiming to throw it back towards me.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Darth."

I laugh. It's a nickname she gave me when we first moved in together and I was still on oxygen. I scared the shit out of her one night going to make myself a late night snack. She thought it was the dark lord Darth Vader himself invading her kitchen.  

It's been months now since I've had to use the machine, but the nickname has stuck.

"Alright, alright." I concede. She tosses the pillow gently back to the bed. "Okay I need to get dressed. Scram!"

Tara backs out of the room slowly and I close the door behind her.

It's already seven, and although I know I don't need that much time to get ready, I don't want to take my chances with LA traffic.