PARKER | Dark H.S. AU

xxix. it's harreh bruh

Copyright © zylgnagnaba 2014

Charlie fidgets on her fingers, picking on her nails like what a five year old would when she's under stress. She's a bundle of nerves as she stands by the social hall's entry way, craning her head while scanning the location trying to spot that one person among the crowd entering the venue.

Disappointed, she takes a step back as few more guests arrive to grace the occasion. A big sigh of tenseness leaves her parted lips and she scours her phone from her purse. Soon as she feels the device touch her fingers, she fish it out and flips it over to look at the screen.

No message. She opens the message icon to send what seemed like the 20th worried text for the past thirty minutes.

As she taps the phone with her quivering fingers, thoughts of pessism flood her already filled and jambled mind.

What if he backed out? He never really liked the idea of this all in the first place. I'm screwed if he doesn't show up.

She grimaces when no response came after two minutes. Usually, he'd reply like 15 seconds after he'd seen her text. She hides her gadget back to her purse and then her fingers start fidgeting once again, scrunching her skirt by her side as she does so.

Her expectant gaze darts outside the gate, at a fair far distant, and then back to the hall where it holds the already increasing guests mingling with one another. With the song playing along with the lively vibe of the event, she reckons that the party's about to start. The noise only makes the nerves take even more toll on her.

She's dressed in a snug midnight blue dress that extends only above her knees, with sleeves that cover her shoulders down to her elbows. Exquisite flower patterns knitted around its v-cut collar. She decided on a pair of white pumps. She leaves her face free from too much make-up, only settling with natural shades and light pink lipstick; hair pulled up in a ponytail allowing her curls to fall from it in an elegant way. Charlie remains classy and simple, not wanting to catch everyone's attention by wearing something scanty and racy -- a vast contrast to what Trishia thought would be appropriate for the night.

The redhead wears a matching red tube dress, extending just her mid-thigh though with little movement it rides up even higher, leaving little to the imagination. A disdainful smirk is swirling across her lips as she walks towards Charlie from where she comes from inside.

"Hey, waiting for someone?" Charlie jumps a little at the sound of her voice from behind her.

She turns to look at her, hesitating for an answer. Trishia's condescending presence only makes Charlie even more anxious. One of Trishia's brows is raised at her, one hand placed over her hip as she waits for Charlie to answer.

Charlie only nods and looks back outside as if to support her simple response to the redhead.

"Heard your lover is coming. Is he the one you're waiting for?" Trishia's nosy question pulls Charlie's attention back to her, deep grudge apparent in her tone. By the challenging and disbelieving features, the blonde is sure Trishia is not genuinely curious, nor doesn't care. Charlie knows her ego was wounded from the day she became the lead model of the agency in place of Trishia, and right now, she's just trying to find something that will also wound Charlie back in order to get a rise on her -- not knowing she's inflecting the pain to herself even more by digging deeper holes in hopes to plant Charlie back to the ground under her feet.

Charlie is tempted to give her a sassy response, a quick comeback saying "if it still isn't obvious, seeing as you haven't checked the invitation...or perhaps, you haven't got one, then yes, I am waiting for my lover, the honorary guest, Harry Styles." Instead, she keeps her defensive instinct at bay and settles with a simple 'yes', and then looks away again.