Perched upon my bed with my laptop upon my knees, I stared at the screen, which had been displaying my business assignment for all of ten minutes in the last hour. Although I wanted to get the work done, the computer clearly had other ideas, bewitching my fingers to constantly sneak the mouse across to my mail icon to check if there was a reply from Taylor, or tap away at the keyboard with my response to him.

I needed a diversion; business wasn't cutting it. My earphones dangled from the edge of my desk, temptingly near by, but I knew if I started listening to Taylor's music as well as reading his opinions then there really would be no hope of getting any homework done.
A sudden crunch of gravel stole my attention, though my thoughts remained upon Taylor, now upon if my present for him had arrived.

Pushing off the silky throw that had been covering my bare feet, I got off my bed and hurried across to the window. When I first peered through the glass, all I saw was my own reflection, the hazy semi-darkness of outside slowly becoming discernible. My heart involuntarily sank slightly at the glimpse of a BMW, rapidly replaced by surprise at the realisation of who was actually at the door: Mum.

'Wait, is it seven already?' I glanced over my shoulder at the cream wall clock that hung beside an Audrey Hepburn poster. The ornate hands were rigidly pointed upright, dividing the clock with a straight black line. 'Why is Mum back early- or rather, why is Mum on time?'

Knowing there had to be a reason, and assuming it was probably something not so great, a tinge of dread began bubbling as I watched a shadowed figure gracefully get out of the car; I could imagine the click of her heels upon the gravel. Figuring that I might as well find out straight away, I crossed to my bedroom door, quickly checking my laptop as I went (Taylor still hadn't replied-probably retyping his argument so that it flowed with a sarcastic, lyrical witticism.)

I hurried down the hallway, the house silent except for music trickling from somewhere. I vaguely recognised the song-my desire to know what was playing was too strong and so I followed the sound to an ajar door.

Poking my head through the gap, I found myself blinking several times, as I often did when laying eyes on my sister's room, my brain trying to comprehend the inordinate amount of pink. My gaze focused, the music now recognisable as One Direction (Taylor would hate me if he knew I used to be obsessed with them as a thirteen year old.) Reclining upon her bed was my sister, an iPhone case replacing her face.

"Chloe- Mum's back," My voice was lost beneath Harry Style's croon, and I grabbed the remote and jabbed at the volume button. "Hey, can you get off Instagram for one second and listen to me?"

The phone snapped down to reveal Chloe's impressively made up face, the amount of time she spent adoringly watching YouTube beauty gurus evident by how well her blush coloured eyeshadow had been applied.

"What are you doing? I was listening!" She pouted sullenly, dimples prominent, making her immediately looking more like a girl in her final year of primary school.

"Mum's back early Chloe- don't you think we should go say hey and see how she is?"
I received an 'are you out of your mind? That's so lame' stare.

"Fine, just me then," I turned to leave, but something made me glance back over her. "Hey, that's my top!"

"Yeah, and?"

"You didn't even ask! God, Chloe, you can't just nick my stuff!"

Chloe shrugged, "I'm trying to watch something Lil- gimme the remote back."

Realising that I still held the remote, I moved to the plasma screen, and holding it up over my head to block out Little Mix, who were now onscreen. "Not until you give me my top back."

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