Dress Me ||z.m.

The Article

I woke up feeling better than I've felt in a long while. Somehow, I managed to wake up an hour earlier than I actually had to, allowing me plenty of time to get dressed. After spending thirty minutes in the shower, I hopped out feeling refreshed, and maybe just a little sore in the thigh area from yesterday's trip to the gym.

A floral dress in my closet caught my eye and I matched them with a pair of boots. I put on my outfit, doing a small twirl to get a full view in the mirror. I brushed my hair, before walking out into the lobby.

To say it was chaotic in there would be an understatement, which was odd since none of the boys were anywhere in sight. The girls were going nuts and the closer I got to the crowd, the more I noticed their faces falling and their sculpted brows furrowing. Who pissed in their corn flakes?

One girl held something in her hand, showing whatever it was to one of the girls next to her, then they both glared at me. I looked away from their angered stare when a guard threw an arm around me, escorting me out of the manic hotel and into the car. As much as I hoped it would stop the fans, it didn't. They even cranked it up a notch, tossing any and all items my way. I slammed the car door shut, as a signal for the driver to put the pedal to the medal.

When I pulled up to the arena, uncrossing my legs to get out of the vehicle, I took a deep breath, thanked the driver, then sauntered through the double doors. I was half an hour early this morning, so no one was there. I decided that I would organize the dressing room to kill some time.

I gaped at the sight of the mess in the room. It made me think back to the time I got this job and the room looked like a herd of rhinos ran through it. With a nostalgic smile, I gathered some clothes and began my cleaning mission.

I've become a pro at memorizing whose shirts and pants and things went to who, so it didn't take long for me to finish. As if on cue, the door creaked open and judging by the chocolate curls I automatically knew who it was. I smiled to myself before springing up from my seat.

"Harry!" I ran to the entrance, flinging my arms around his neck and enveloping him in a hug. He gave a quiet chuckle, squeezing my waist and dropping whatever he had in his grip in the process. Smooth. I sniggered at the banana and iPhone lying on floor, bending down to pick them up, then standing to my full height to hand them to him.

"My beloved banana!" He pouted, cradling it in his arms, looking back and forth between the fruit and my face. We shared a laugh, and I sidestepped so he could fully enter the room. His viridescent eyes scanned the room and he seemed to be in awe, slowly shaking his head, then squinting at me as if I were far away.

"How do you do it, Ms. Michel?" He asked, placing his fingers on his hip, one-two-three-four-thumb. I took note of how most of the time, instead of letting his palm come in contact with his hip, he usually sticks with just letting his digits press into his side.

"I do not know, Mr. Styles." I copied his gesture, earning a chortle from the tall lad. I laid on the office lounge while Harry ate his now slightly bruised banana. I pulled out my phone, the plastic protector still covering the screen, to skim through a few fashion blogs.

"Do I look too hot or...?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him walk up, letting me know he was talking me. My phone dropped to my face, thankfully landing on my cheek as I burst into laughter. I rolled over, catching my iPhone before it fell to the floor and sat up with my back to my friend. I looked over my shoulder at him, shifting my body to see better, biting my lip to hold in my laughs.

Harry stood, a face splitting grin on his rose red lips, a crop top that looked an awful lot like one I own, stretched across his chest. Looking down, I also saw he was wearing knee high socks, the white material overlapping his pant legs, forcing the jeans to scrunch and form lumps. On top of that, his fringe was whipped the wrong way.