Meant for each other?

-20-

Um I feel like you're all going to hate me
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Flying out of the sky reaching building, the model hails a cab, slipping in and ordering the driver to Bond Street. All she's thinking about is the blonde she's just fled from.

How could she?

The brunette wonders. All she'd been is honest with the older girl even if it had taken some to get it out of her, she'd been honest. The truth was the only thing at came from her mouth. Taylor had seen her cry over her but yet she didn't even trust her enough to tell her. No other feelings flow through Karlie at this point apart from betrayal. Keep calm, she tells herself, curling her fists into balls to stop the anger from seeping out. You'll be shopping soon. The driver pulls up outside the top of Bond Street and the young girl hands him a £50 note and tells him to keep the change. He looks surprised but pulls away, leaving her to splash all her cash.

Karlie's phone is smashed: shattered on the floor and probably trodden on by hundreds of pairs of heels. But at least no one can contact her now as her phone had been buzzing all evening from emails and texts, some even starting to come from Krissy and Kimby. Kariann hadn't got in touch but she's wrapped up enough and the model wants her younger sibling to concentrate on getting better herself, not the mess she's getting into.

She'd snuck into a bar hours previously with some other girls that model for IMG as well. As models should, they all know how to party hard, the liquor appearing within seconds of gaining access to the exclusive destination and not disappearing since. The school girl has had too much to even remember where she is, let alone how much she's taken in. Things are getting harder now though, the three skinny girls with her producing powders. It's Karlie's old friends back again. "Are you joining us Kloss?" Behati slurs, producing a small bag of white powder and waving it in front of her.

"Sure, I'm no pussy," the brunette retorts quickly, all her words jumbling together as she follows the older model off the room and into a side room where the other girls are already waiting. They all look at her, smirks lighting their faces as they see her perching on her knees while Behati arranges a straight line of white powder for all four of them. The seventeen year old had vowed never to go on these or take them again but the anger, betrayal and sadness coursing through her is enough to tell her brain that once won't hurt. "Do you know how?" One of the other models, whose hair is darker than Karlie's and the model remembers is called Adriana, asks. Out of the four of them, she's probably the most responsible and feels the youngest of them needs to be careful.

Pulling her messy hair back, the teenager looks at her incredulously. "Of course, I used to do this stuff once a week at least." The two others share impressed looks but the oldest girl feels slightly worried about this. Having not had as much to drink, she wondered if they'd be starting the new model down a dangerous path that she'd only just recovered from. But as she zones back in, she realises it's too late as the school girl has snorted half the line up already with a practiced ease. The others have too, leaving her out. Yet now Adriana doesn't want to. This is all wrong.

"Ladies, I'm going to call it a night and I suggest you do too," she announces.

"Sure," Behati answers easily, standing up with a grin on her face. The white powder has already got to her. The other two don't reply though, a miserable look overtaking the newest member of their group: Karlie.

"Do we have to?" She almost whines, "I'll have to go back then."

The model she's become closest with answers that for her. "Come back to mine," Joan suggests.

"Really?" The model asks, hugging the Puerto Rico native affectionately. When high or drunk, she tends to become more cuddly, touchy feels some may say.