Chapter 4

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Addyson's point of view.

I sigh, raking my slim fingers through the ends of my hair as I decided what I should tell him.

“Not much to tell, got fired, couldn’t pay the rent and got kicked out.” I shrug, choosing to save the truth for a later date.

“You know I have this friend in my band called Niall..” He begins, pausing as he turns on the gas stove, the flames flickering out on demand. “And he’s a really really REALLY bad liar. But I think he can still pull off a lie better then you can.” Harry smirks, glancing at me over his shoulder. I slip my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down until I taste the copper flavour of my own blood.

“Oh come on, I won’t judge you. What, you’re a pirate? An assassin sent to kill me? You turn into a green monster at night? You’re a-“

“I’m an orphan.” I cut him short, rolling my eyes at his pathetic guesses.

“An orphan?” He asks, as if confirming what I had just said.

“Yep. As in I have no parents. No idea who they are or where they are or if they’re even alive.” I explain, sighing as I sink into the chair further.

”Shitt. I’m sorry..” He trails off, running a hand through his chocolate curls and spinning on his heels to look at me, a sincere sorrow in his eyes.

“I don’t want your pity.” I laugh weakly, shaking my head at him.

“Do you have any family?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing together. I simply shrug.

“Dunno, never met any.” I answer honestly, avoiding eye contact with him as I stare down at my knees. It made me nervous talking about family.

“That must be hard.” He sighs, spinning around once again to continue cooking.

“Yeah, I guess it is. But I’ll live. I can just keep coming home with random boys I meet in coffee shops.”  I tease, gaining a chuckle from him as I tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

“Go home with all the boys you want, none of them will be famous pop stars that can cook a decent meal.” He shoots back, a strange sizzling sound coming from the pot.

“You can cook?” I raise one eyebrow sceptically as I watch him dash around the kitchen, throwing various ingredients into the pot.

“I’m the master chef of One Direction.” He nods to himself, his curls bouncing around the back of his head.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I smirk.  “Um, can I uh, have a shower? If you don’t mind of course.” I ask as politely and quietly as I can, fumbling with my fingers as I do. I can hear him smirk as he turns to look at me, his eyes sparkling in the bright kitchen lights.

“Sure love, dinner should be ready by the time you’re out. Down the hallway, first door on your left.” He informs me, pointing at a corridor leading off the lounge area. I smile at him and throw my bag over my shoulder before walking in the direction I was told. I turn into the bathroom, dropping my bag in the centre of the room. The white bathroom was beautiful, not overly large but clean and luxurious.  (PICTURE ON SIDE --à)

I spin around and close the door, making sure it’s locked before continuing into centre of the room and stripping off. I turn the shower on, watching the steam fog up the glass pane as I wait for it to warm up. 

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