Ambition || Harry Styles

*22*

"I look ridiculous," I huff in front of the mirror.

Katie is sitting on the end of my bed as I dissect every inch of my appearance, her outfit choice for me and my expertly applied makeup, making me feel less like myself than I have ever felt.

We shopped for hours today, trying on a million different things before she finally convinced me that this outfit was both casual and sexy at the same time and that a house party does not call for the little black dress I was leaning towards.

"You look hot!" she retorts back for the hundredth time, fiddling with the sleeves of her top that sit above her elbows, her long blonde hair sweeping across her bare shoulders.

I self consciously pull down the black cropped t-shirt that sits loosely just above a pair of black high waist jeans that are so tight I can barely breathe. I'm uncomfortable about the strip of midriff showing despite Katie repeatedly reassuring me that I can pull it off.

Although I appreciate her efforts, I never wear clothes like this, and if I'm being honest, most of the time it's so I can uphold the squeaky clean image of being Alan Patterson's daughter. 

I never want to step out of line or be judged by what I wear or how I act outside of work. 

Alexa Patterson - Development Manager, would never wear this.

It's not been a goal of mine to be found attractive; intelligent and capable but never sexy. And I'm not sure when I got it into my head that all of those things have to be mutually exclusive. 

Regardless of the reasoning, I still feel like I'm trying to be something I'm not in these clothes.  I'm not fun, I'm not confident and I'm the furthest thing from being sexy.  Maybe if I was, men like Adam wouldn't leave me for women who are all these things.

They are red, not beige.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I mumble as I run my hand along the strip of bare skin, twirling the end of my hair out of habit which Katie instructed the hair salon to blow out to look like, "A Victoria's-Secret-model meets Beyonce-with-a-wind-machine."

She rolls her eyes and stands behind me to talk to my reflection as I over-analyse.

"Lexi, I think you're amazing, you know that.  But you're 26 not 66, you have a banging body, and you are going to a party, not for a man but to have fun... for once in your life.  Be the fearless woman I know you are and I guarantee if you just relax a little, Harry won't be able to keep his hands off you."

She sounds so sure about the plan, before she adds, "And if he still isn't interested, then we cut our losses and look for someone who's going to give you something back, something other than sleepless nights and mind games."

With that, she spins me around, her delicate fingers on my shoulders before she touches up my red lips with a tiny brush.

"Go hard or go home, boss lady," she smiles sweetly and I sigh as I whisper a, "Thank you."

Just as I'm starting to feel like I can do this, my brows crease into a confused frown when the doorbell ringing cuts through my quiet home.

"Shit, he's early," Katie hisses and my eyes widen as she checks the time.

"Katie, who the fuck is that?" I yell, my mind swirling with images of Harry at the door and my nerve not yet ready.  My instincts kick in and I swirl on my heel in a flurry, my hands reaching up to fluff my hair and fix my shirt one more time in the mirror.

I storm towards the door as Katie hits the button to unlock the lift from the intercom.

She swiftly runs ahead of me, holding her back against the entrance, her arms comically spread wide across the frame, her body resembling a starfish across the ocean floor.