Something Great

Chapter 14

Natalie's POV

Harry and I spent the rest of the morning lazing around the house, watching mindless television, while snuggling (and occasionally making out, which was obviously quite a bit of fun) on the couch. I felt like a giddy teenager again and was terrified that the feeling would dissipate at some point. After he left, I was in desperate need of a diversion, something to keep my brain from doing what it does best - over-analyze, and over-think. I decided I would spend the afternoon doing a little bit of much-needed self-care. Hair, nails, the works. That, and my first "date" in almost ten years (when you're married it just doesn't count anymore) was definitely cause for celebration...and a new outfit. A few hours later, after a shower and a quick lunch, I head out to the outlet mall for some retail therapy, bracing myself for the New Year's day crowds.

Making my way through the throngs of people all desperate to return that unwanted tupperware set, or sweater that was gifted two sizes too small, I head into Maurices, in the hopes that I will find something on the sale rack that will a) fit Harry's cryptic demand to "dress warm" for the evening, b) "wow" him, and c) somehow convey that I am hip and stylish. Which I'm really not. I'm not expecting a moment of jaw-dropping, stunned silence as I grace him with my presence. But a "you look really pretty" wouldn't suck. Nor would whispers of "they're a really hot couple." I take a moment to put that thought out into the universe. It's that moment in every woman's life where she faces the delicate conundrum of how to send the message that you are trying, and want to look good for the other person, without looking like you're trying "too hard." Seriously, someone needs to write a dissertation on this or something. Who knew that the chosen wash of your skinny jeans could be such an important consideration? Thankfully, I hit pay dirt out of the gate. I grab a new pair of my favorite dark gray skinnies, combining it with a white tank, and plaid tweed blazer in shades of berry. It's stupidly cliche, but I look pretty good in pink. Mentally, I pair the ensemble with my favorite pair of dark brown riding boots, that have been sitting in my closet waiting for a night out. Score. Stepping up to the counter, I pay for my purchases and head out of the store, making my way over to Forever 21 for some accessories.

I decide to take my time though, enjoying a few moments to myself, with nobody to answer to. I window shop for a bit, eyeing wistfully all of the items I can't afford. Glancing around me, I take note of the fact that there are more teens out shopping than I would've expected. But then I remember that it's the last day of winter break, and Vegas kids return to school tomorrow. Dismayed, I realize that Forever 21 is probably gonna be packed with teenage girls, and the lines will be murder as a result. Picking up the pace, I make one last stop in front of the Coach outlet. I mean, do I NEED a $200 purse? No. And I'd probably hate myself if I blew that much of my well-earned money on one. But it doesn't hurt to ogle. It's actually while I'm standing there, in front of the window, that I'm struck with the odd, uneasy feeling that I'm being watched. Instinctively turning around, I think I catch two or three girls, who are standing in a huddle less than five yards from me, look away quickly, but I can't be certain. Turning back to the pretty satchel in the display case, I'm briefly embarrassed by my own paranoia, the prickly sensation now a thing of the past.

Walking on, I look over my shoulder for a moment as I let another shopper pass me. Those same girls are now only a few steps behind me, and this time, one of them blatantly makes eye contact with me before turning and whispering something to the one next to her, all while keeping her eyes on me. Hurriedly spinning away, I rack my brain. Do I know these girls somehow? Have they been to the salon? Do they live in my neighborhood? It then dawns on me that my own mental inquiry doesn't make much sense. If they know me, on a personal level, why don't they just approach? I now can't escape the suspicion that they're being covert or deliberately trying to avoid detection. What could they possibly want with me? Rounding the corner into Forever 21, I decide to push these girls from my mind, as I have much more important things to be considering, like whether to pair a scarf or a necklace with my new jacket. I quickly start perusing the shelves and accessory racks.