How to Be Stylish

Chapter Four

I walk out of the dance studio that has become my second home, my point shoes slung over my shoulder. With me being the last person to leave, I walk alone back towards my apartment - which is around a ten minute walk. The one bad habit I have is that, whenever I'm alone, I over think things. Things that I stress over, things that have been on my mind for a while now. The one prominent thought that pulses through my brain like an annoying bug - Harry Styles. He hasn't called, nor has he texted me since that night. A night that was over five months ago. Five months with silence from the Cheshire boy. But not just him, Liam also. My friend that I thought I had some connection with, has yet to seek me out. That hurts, no matter the circumstance that they're famous and extremely busy. I know they can find time, but it was wishful thinking in the first place. Wishful thinking gets you nothing but false hopes - which then lead to disappointment.

Maybe that's why I was in a funk all the time. Forever waking up and wishing that I'll have a new message or missed call from either one of them is proving too emotional straining. Mia, however, has kept me wide awake at the wee hours of the night chatting up Zayn, about basically anything and everything. I was jealous of my friend, but I was happy for her at the same time. I just wish the same for me.

"Baby, you don't have to worry I'll be coming back for you, back for you, back for you, you

Lately, I've been going crazy

So I'm co-"

I pull my phone out of my back pocket, rather annoyed at my new favorite One Direction song that's playing as my ring tone. I look at the screen, my eyes wide with delight, and I answer it immediately.

"Why is this the first time you're calling me?" I say, trying to hid the hurt from creeping into my face. What was suppose to be light hearted and joking, comes out almost like a choked breath. "Sorry. I just got out of practice, so I'm a litt-"

"You don't need to lie. I know I've been letting you down."

I sigh loudly, not knowing what to say. "I mean, it's whatever. I know you've been busy, with being a pop star and all."

"I could have found time."

"So why didn't you?" I question him.

The phone is silent, except for the background noise of music and chatter. I assume he's on a bus, heading to their next city, which must be somewhere in California. I've lost track of where the boys are at - something I knew even before I knew what I was going to wear.

"I honestly don't know," he finally answers in a hushed tone.

"Me either."

"I do miss you," he replies, causing me to stop walking. "I miss you more than I have anyone else."

"Yeah," I answer him, surprising myself with my answer, "I miss you too."

"I know how to fix this," he whispers.

I chuckle a little. "Oh really? How?"

"Turn around."

My eyes go wide. "No, no way are you behind me."

The phone line clicks, and that is the only answer I need. I whip my body around, flinging my point shoes on the ground and run in the direction of the boy standing off in the field next to the dance hall. I throw my arms around him, and I dig my head into his shoulder. He grunts as I squeeze the life out of him. He wraps his arms around my torso, squeezing back just as equally hard. We stand like this for a mere moment before he releases me.

"How did you get here?" I ask him, my mind burning with curiosity.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Took a flight."

"And no one is mad that you're missing?"

"Eh, probably," he says with a small smile on his face. "But its worth it."

I blush at his compliment, and I thank the Lord that it's dark outside. I need to control my stupid hormones - honestly, it's pathetic. But, when someone like him is standing in front of you, it's hard to.

"That's so unlike you," I say as we begin to walk towards my place.

"Well, I figured I'd try to be a little different, ya know?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I just don't want you getting in trouble."

"Again, it's worth it; you're the first friend I've made in a while."

"I can say the same thing, actually."

We walk towards the apartment, silence filling the void between us. Though he showed up to surprise me, as grateful as I am, I wish the other band mate would have surprised me instead. It's a sick thought, and I am disgusted with myself. I should be happy he remembers me at all.

Instead of heading to the stairs like I normally would, I head to the elevator and press the button. The door slides open and we walk inside. The air begins to crackle; but not actually. It's like the air becomes too thick, too warm and heated. It makes me nervous, and I refuse to look at him. This unwanted tension makes me uneasy. I immediately hate it.

The door slides open, and I practically rush out. I'm pretty sure he chuckles behind me. The door to my apartment is the first one on the right, secluded from the others. It's also the largest apartment. I fish out my keys from my dance bag, slide it into the key, and unlock it with a click. The noise of the TV greets us as we walk inside.

The apartment is simple, yet spacious. As soon as you walk in the door, the kitchen is immediately on the left. To the right is the dining room, and if you continue through, the living room opens up. Down a hallway on the right leads to our bedrooms and a bathroom. A door in the living room opens off to the left, which leads to a small office space/storage unit. Mia is lounging on the couch right across from the TV, a bored expression on her face. She doesn't notice us - for that I'm grateful.

"Hey Mia," I call, "we have a visitor."

She glance in my direction, and a smile erupts on her face. She doesn't speak, instead waving her tiny hand frantically. I smile at her childish gesture. "What's on?" I ask her as I head into the kitchen and open the fridge, looking inside for two bottles of water.

"Criminal Minds."

I frown at the water bottle in my hands. "We'll be in my room, then."

"Loser!"

"The one and only," I retort with a smirk on my face. "Shall we?" I gesture with the water bottle at him. He smiles and shakes his head.

"We shall."

My room is simple, accented with dark greens, blacks, and whites. It has fairy lights that run across the back wall, across my wall and headboard. There's a dresser across from the bed with a vanity mirror. A nightstand sits next to my bed with my alarm clock and a lamp. A flat screen TV is hung on the wall, next to the dresser. Nothing too spectacular, just the way I like it. I drop my dance bag next to the dresser. I climb on top if my bed, grabbing the remote off of the nightstand and flick on the TV. He stands, unsure of what to do.

"You can cone sit down," I tell him with a chuckle. He walks over with a small smile and slide onto the bed. The bed sinks down, and I lay back against the pillows.

"So, you dance, right?"

"Yeah, I'm working on becoming a professional," I tell him without taking my eyes off The Big Bang Theory. "Well, Mia and I are." I add.

"What's your favorite style?" he asks me as he lays back against the pillows, some distance separating us.

I muse the question around in my mind. "Probably ballet. Mia's into jazz."

We continue making small talk for the rest of the night, until the darkness of sleep consumes me.