vegas | H.S.

p a r k e d i n s u l t s

"Peasant?" Now, I'm questioning her citizenship rights, and mental stability.

"Listen. Do not talk to my fiancé again, understand?"

Fiancé..fiancé..what is she talking about?

"Slow down. I'm not following here. Who is your fiancé?"

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Her hand covered the surface of her crimson-colored lips, the color matted to them.

"Who is he?" Please..please don't say him..

"Harry. Harry Styles. He is my fiancé, the Duke of Holmes Chapel, yes?"

At the darkest corner of my stomach, landed my heart, in the remaining pieces that stayed hoping that it would be repaired with the touches and words of someone that I could possibly like. It sank, the feeling of complete sickness hovered over my throat, clenching for me to keep all the emotions inside of me, and not on the concrete below.

The rapid heartbeat was resounding through the hollow, while the pain settled at the top of my vocal cords, impairing my speech.

He has a fiancé..a fiancé..

"Oh..Don't tell me you thought you had a chance with him, eh?" She taunted, just as everyone else would.

This was the moment that she was waiting for. The part of the movie where the perfect cheerleader is led to dump the wasted milkshake over an innocent girl's head. Something that would take her days to remove from the strands.

Even if I did believe it in the slightest, I do not have a single probability with him as I stand here, wounded with heartbreak.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I countered, my brain computing the only way to come up without shedding a tear in front of this awful woman.

"What?"

"I don't have the slightest feeling for him. I am merely a friend, that is all," I scoffed, kneading my eyebrows together to successfully pull together a performance to end this confrontation.

She stood, defeated, "Whatever. Let's go, Monty and Jeff," She snapped at the hefty men that followed her when she approached.

They both gave one lasting look over their shoulders at the broken me, their expression communicating their sincerest apologies until the darkness sucked them into its clutches.

"Then there was one.." I muttered, the tears tempting to wail from the bottom lash of my eye, and onto the freezing cheek below it.

As much as I would hate to admit it, Liam was correct. He knew something like this would happen, and he warned me. He warned me of this, yet I showed up on my own accord, willing to accept whatever that jerk said.

The front of my UGG boot dug into the dirt between the cracks of the concrete squares, deciding that being alone would only result to me sulking in my own self-pity as I do. I collected my keys, and my buckling emotions, and ventured back to the scene of my Audi parked on the curb.

-

Liam's apartment building was a mile, or a twenty minute walk from the lovely bakery that he stops by every morning to grab his favorite assorted bagel, paired with a fresh cup of joe. I would join him, but the prices do not look good with the competing budget of my bills.

Somehow, that did not matter.

I squeezed twenty bucks out of my weekly allowance for lunch, and picked out the bagels he loves, along with the cookies that Mrs. Graves supplied that he dreadfully enjoyed.