About (Harry Styles)

18.

(CHECK OUT THE EDIT! What do you think??! It's terrible but whatever. Haha. It might or might not have anything to do with this chapter.)

Saturday rolls along too quickly like a fragmented rock, dropping from the very top of a mountain, and there's nothing at the bottom that would be capable of stopping the relentless piece of disaster.

Can't it just be Sunday already?

I decide to skip the farmer's market today because I ... I don't have a good reason for it other than not wanting to go.

There's another thing I don't want to go to today, but I promised her that I would.

Alexis' birthday party. She's turning the official 21, the legal drinking age and she wants to get all of us drunk as, and I quote, "drunk as bunnies doing crack in a barber shop."

Don't even ask. She has a strange thing for bunnies.

Her party is downtown, a private space in a public club she rented for the evening. She told us we could wear whatever we wanted because by the end of the night, quote, "no one will even remember the underwear they're wearing."

The entire day, I stared at the numbers on the clock, hoping that 10'o clock would just magically disappear from the circle. But it doesn't.

I get ready as slowly as I can, throwing on a black tee shirt along with a pair of dark navy skinnies. I debate for about a good ten minutes whether I should tuck in the shirt or not before changing into a white crop top.  I throw on a leather jacket to keep me more "womanly."

As I'm running out the door, my mother's voice stops me.

"Where are you rushing to at this hour?" She asks, walking down from the stairs, her heels clacking against the hardwood floors.

"Alexis' birthday party," I discreetly answer.

"The William's daughter?" She asks, and I nod impatiently. I just wanna get this party over with. "Don't stay out too late."

"Mother, I'm an adult. I'll be fine."

She strolls over to me, a weak smile spreads across her lips as she slowly runs her fingers down my hair and I'm growing a little concerned about her health. She's never done this sort of thing since elementary school.

"I know, but you'll always be a baby in my eyes," she says, a twinkling glow in her eyes. "My baby."

"I gotta go. I'll be home before midnight," I promise her, and she nods, warning me again to be careful as I slip out the door.

"Be safe!" She yells out before I enter my Uber.

...

Once I get off at my stop, I check my phone for the time. It reads five minutes to ten and I actually want to kick myself for not being purposely late, rather being fashionably on time.

The one place she only really wanted to go to was a club called Confetti's. It's not the most extravagant location, but they play great music and give you free, unlimited alcohol on your birthday.

As I enter the darkened club, a lanky security guard that looks like twelve checks my ID and once I get the okay, I search for my party in hopes that I miss them and turn back home. And later when she asks me why I was a no show; I'll just tell her that I couldn't find them and that my phone was dead.

I could make it work.

"You'll be okay. It's just for one night. You'll survive," I say to myself aloud, knowing the blaring music will overpower my voice.