𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

(28) 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵

"Got an eyeful, have you?" Emma snapped at the older-looking man who cat-called her. We were aware Soho could have been a bit dodgy, but nowhere near what it actually was.

"Not an eyeful, sweetheart, but I'm sure you'd sound much better with a mouthful." He retorted; the alcohol fresh from where we were walking.

"Yeah, I'll bite your fucking dick off, mate!" Emma started to move forward to get at him, but I grabbed her arms and successfully pulled her back in the direction of which we were heading. St Anne's Court was just around the corner and I didn't feel like getting arrested or being witness to a death. Because let's be honest: Emma would have killed the fucker.

"Go home, mate, before you get yourself into trouble." I scolded the stranger, to which he waved his hand in dismissal and drunkenly stumbled away.

Emma shrugged me off her, huffing to herself and straightening out her attire. "You are so lucky you don't get cat-called." She began walking again. I raised my eyebrows, slightly hurt by her assumption, but she wasn't wrong. I quickly caught up with her, turning the corner and heading in the direction of Trident Studios.

"Like you don't like being cat-called, Emma. You love it, bitch." I rolled my eyes, checking the road and pattering across; whenever Emma was a bit pissed off, she would walk about ten times faster than she usually would, so it was a job to keep up with her.

This was the first time we were going to see Queen in action in the studio, watching them play their hearts out. I had to make sure my appearance was as perfect as it could be, as well as my behaviour. Of course, nobody had told me I needed to do that, I just thought it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to show Brian up. And as soon as I noticed we were but a couple of feet away from the main entrance of Trident Studios, my heart dropped into my stomach. I couldn't get over the fact that Queen were in there, in a real professional studio, recording what would be a huge break for them.

"Emma, Emma, Emma!" I babbled, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. "Um..." I stuttered for a bit, feeling my throat close up. Calm down, Maria. "D-do I look okay?" I asked quietly, patting myself down. Emma scanned my body briefly, looking over my outfit. I'd decided to wear my nicer flared jeans, the ones that were darker and had nicer stitching around the waist. The fitting was a little off, being tighter around my thighs, but when I looked in the mirror a minute or two back at the flat, I realised that it was actually very flattering around my hips and my backside. Brian did always like the extra weight I carried on my person. I spent hours going through shirts I had in my drawers, even though I didn't have that many to look through in the first place. I settled on a pastel blue, off the shoulder shirt with three-quarter length sleeves. They didn't cover up all of my scars on my arms, but I was trying to be less insecure about myself. The tips of my scars were only just showing, barely noticeable to anyone unless I was to actually mention them. But of course, it was just playing on my mind non-stop so to me, anyone could see those marks from space. It was still pretty damn chilly, with it only being January, so I had to cover myself up in a coat. The last thing that emphasised my look was my slightly platformed boots and my subtle use of mascara. When Emma and I left the flat, I was pretty confident with my look, but walking must have made my mind wander, and I soon found myself becoming increasingly insecure.

"Yeah, you look great. Only..." Emma reached out, slipping her hands into my coat and to my shoulders, pulling my sleeves down, exposing more of my skin. "Need to look perfect, right?" I furrowed my eyebrows, pushing her hands away a bit. She must have noticed my offended expression, because she shook her head wildly. "No, I didn't mean it like that! You just... You might as well go all out, you know?" She shrugged her shoulders, turning to walk again. "And tuck your shirt in. Fashion is a statement." She said with a smirk over her shoulder.