Lennon Allen prided herself on being a person who wasn't phased in the face of any situation or celebrity, embodying the very definition of 'zen'.
But even she finds herself flustered suddenly surrounded by seven YouTubers who want nothing more than...
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"HARRY YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS," Lennon deadpanned, staring at the absolute monstrosities the man was currently trying on and stretching his feet into. To call them shoes would have been an unfair representation, as the utterly hideous purple and neon yellow Nikes Harry was currently contemplating buying were like nothing that could ever, or should ever, be worn.
"What do you mean am I serious?" He spluttered in surprise at her contempt, looking at the mirror with an impressed expression. His fashion sense was always a little out there, but Lennon couldn't quite believe he was genuinely debating buying the trainers - which were £145 no less. "These are sick."
"If by sick you mean they're vomit inducing then I'd have to agree with you there," she laughed, setting down the pair of Adidas she had been eyeing up once she noted the price on the bottom. Lennon envied Harry for how he could spend money on seemingly whatever he wanted - anything she ever dreamed of owning she had to save for months for, and by the time she had the money she'd usually have talked herself out of it by then.
"Just for that I'm going to wear them the second we get out of the shop," he pointed at her, lips lifting into a wicked grin as he kicked the shoes off and placed them back into the box to take them to the till. True to his word, Harry sat down on the nearest bench outside of the shop and swapped his current perfectly plain sneakers for the horrifyingly bright ones now in his possession.
"At least if you ever go running at night the cars will see you from miles away," Lennon nodded towards his feet as he tied up the laces, "and then they'll run you over anyway for wearing them."
"You know what I was going to get you a '99 but if you're going to be a shithouse you can buy your own!" He threatened teasingly as he marched off to the ice cream van parked on the side of the road. It had been a shockingly warm day for the end of March in England, leaving Lennon to dress in a t-shirt and jeans and somehow still feel a little warm from all the walking they were doing. Harry however, still wore a rather cozy-looking but altogether too hot hoodie, seemingly unaffected by the mild temperature rise.
They stood in line to the truck, looking a little out of place standing behind an abundance of children who were divulging in spending their pocket money on ice cream cones. Harry kept throwing furious glances over his shoulder at Lennon, dramatically pretending to be annoyed by her teasing. In actuality, he didn't really care all that much. The majority of his clothes were bright in colour, and these shoes would be no different.
"Hi," Harry greeted once he finally reached the window, "can I get two '99s with a flake please?"
As the man swirled some ice cream onto two wafer cones, sliding a chocolate flake into each and dousing them with sprinkles, Harry took one last glance over his shoulder towards Lennon.
"Don't get excited," he warned, "they're both for me!"
Lennon didn't doubt he'd be willing to eat both, but after he paid and she stepped toward to buy her own, he broke character and told her the truth whilst handing her the cone in his left hand.
