Forevermore {h.s}

1.

A/N: the first chapter is officially here, I cannot wait to share more with you.

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Phone ringing.

One of the most annoying sounds to ever exist.

The vibration is so loud that the sound echoes against the wooden bedside table which makes an even worse sound.

The continuous ringing forces me to open my eyes and grab my phone. I yawn from exhaustion and my eyes widen when I finally discover what time is it. 11:15. I hop out of bed, rushing to my bathroom and almost tripping over. Looks like I'm gonna be late again.

"Hello?" I hum in a sleepy voice, aggressively rubbing my eyes with my fingers.

"Where are you? I've been waiting for 2 hours! I called you 15 times!" Stacey screams.

"I'll be right there! I just...I just needed to prepare some documents and-" I lie, and catch a deep annoyed sigh at the other side of the line.

"You fell asleep didn't you?" She asks as I prepare my clothes and furiously brush my teeth until my gums bleed. Doing more things at once isn't as easy as it seems.

"How'd you know?" I question when she exposes me and spit the water from my mouth to the sink. "I'm a fucking Sherlock. Anyway! I'm going to hang up, be here in 15 minutes!" She states.

Yes mom.

I throw my mobile on the bed and start my skincare. I rinse my face with cold water, put on a bunch of creams for my skin and pull my hair down from the bun.

My long hair sometimes causes me a problem, so I curl them with a curling thingy my mother gave me on my 22nd birthday. Quick makeup has always solved everything. Red lipstick, mascara and soft blush.

From my large closet, I pick denim jeans with a tiger pattern, a simple black top and a long leather jacket. I grab my small purse and throw in my phone, wallet, publishing card, and my diary. I quickly check myself out in the mirror, fix my hair and kiss the mirror to taste the lipstick stain.

I'm only 8 minutes away, so I speed through the busy streets of New York City. Being a writer in New York was not always easy. Okay, that's a lie.

I started writing when I was 11 and at the age of 22, my biggest dreams came true. Already sounds like a fucking fiction.

Sometimes it still seems unbelievable how quickly I got recognized, but then reality slaps me and I find out that being a writer is not about writing an entire novel in one sitting, and then publishing it.

It was months of hard work, ripping papers, inspiration, no motivation, staying up long, making up random plots, writer's block, ripping my hair out and other bullshit. People mainly know me through my mother Vivienne Green. Or at least they think she has a daughter that's doing some job.

Vivienne Green is a famous fashion designer here in New York. She's doing fashion collections for well-known fashion brands and that's a pretty busy job. My mother is a woman who has achieved a lot and is still busy with her work. When I say still, I mean it.

We only meet occasionally but it doesn't bother me because I also have a very busy schedule.

I'm known as Amanda Green or Amanda Faith Green but that's too long.

If you're wondering why Faith, I asked my mother several times and she always replied that my middle name was given to me by my father, who passed away 8 years ago. My father, Victor Green was a businessman. To be real, I didn't even know what he was doing. I just knew he was selling stuff.