the journal - h.s.

102

[amber’s pov]

”Crap,” my cheeks turned as red as Liam had turned pale. If I could possibly sink into the ground and find myself buried somewhere deep under the city of Washington DC, that would be preferable rather than standing here in a dress I shouldn’t have tried, with Liam looking like this over my extremely outrageously stupid mouth. Why could I never keep my damn mouth shut? Think a little instead of just blasting out the first thing my unreliable mind could put together. 

Liam seemed to have frozen in his position, still holding onto the heavy curtain. I had never - or well not for the longest time - seen an expression of such regret and sorrow before; the once so friendly brown color was now the darkest color of despair. How had he kept this hidden so well? Strangely it reminded me of Harry and the way he had struggled with keeping the facade from breaking.

”I’m so sorry, Liam, I - ” I twisted under his distant gaze which slowly fell to the floor. He seemed unmovable; his eyes momentarily closed. He straightened his back, eyes flying open. 

”Ms. Moore, that dress suits you better than it would anyone else. I’d advice you to choose it. I’ll be waiting outside for you to finish,” with that he gave me a small nod, his mouth in a hard line, and pulled the curtain for again leaving me behind with a paralyzed state of mind in a dress I didn’t believe I should ever have tried. I was speechless, wanting to make up for what I had said but still couldn’t help the blue deep ocean of questions. One kept surfacing. What was his role in this? Richard Styles'. To me it seemed like he was the one pulling all the strings around here; why shouldn’t he be involved in the affair between his half sister Aria Styles Haynes and bodyguard Liam Payne? Surely that would not be a suitable relationship in his understanding. If it was even possible my loathing towards him grew more fierce.

Unfortunately I couldn’t possibly concentrate on finding another dress after this, ”Fucking fuck. Shitty-shit-fuck,” I murmured at myself as I slipped back into my clothes - feeling so much more comfortable in these. I grabbed the beautiful fabric which currently lay dead and shiny on the floor of the fitting room ready to make head rolls any night if needed, ”shit. Crap, crap.” I threw the curtain to the side and hurried to the desk to pay for the ridiculous dress with the signed paper check before hurrying out the the front door swinging the fancy shopping bag a little too wildly. My hair was all static from pulling my shirt on too quickly. 

Liam was standing at the car with an expression of steel; his brown eyes staring straight ahead not even looking my way. Shit. I bet Jenny would be remotely proud of my current vocabulary, I thought sarcastically. 

”Liam, I’m so sorry. I -,” I babbled on pulling on my jacket as the wind tore in my impossibly messy hair. 

”There’s nothing to apologize for miss, are you ready to go to the salon?” He stated scaring calmly, still with his eyes focused on something that definitely wasn’t me. As if he was some sort of emotionless soldier. 

”I’m so sorry,” I tried again as I watched his face closely hoping for some crack to show me what I could possibly do to right my wrong. But how could I possibly help? This was absolutely none of my business to put it mildly. I hadn’t even known Liam for a full day. 

He didn’t reply, simply opened the door for me - making me feel even more shitty, naturally. I sat there in the back seat with my stupidly expensive dress in the stupidly big bag. A dress which I most definitely should probably not even consider wearing tonight because I would look ridiculous. I wanted to apologize again, but Liam got into the car and didn’t even look at me in the rear mirror. 

His eyes were just like hers, I kept thinking over and over as I couldn’t stop looking at him. Hoping he would look my way so I knew I was allowed to say something.