I couldn’t wait for rehearsals the next day, so I could see
Tiffany and, well, just see her! I was really confused when I had received a text from Kevin, Tiff’s boyfriend, asking if Jamie knew her favourite film! I instantly replied, knowing the answer myself, and then the idiot asked, ‘was I sure?’ Of course I was bloody sure! I went to see it with her when she proclaimed, ‘This is my favourite film ever!’
Why did the rich twat not believe me? Did he think I would try to mess up his relationship? I couldn’t do that, because it would hurt Tiffany, and I would never do that. I could never do that to her!
I looked at Jamie and wondered what she would think of her best mate and me as a couple. It would be wonderful if we could be a couple, but I had to think of the position Jamie would be in.
I imagined how I would feel if Darren and Jamie were together. Not that they would get together, seeing as Darren had Olivia and Jamie had… Who did Jamie have, actually?
“Jamie, who are you interested in?” I called, as I followed her into the kitchen to watch her make her dinner.
“Wha- what?” she laughed, sounding shocked. Was it so wrong for her brother to be wondering who she ‘liked’? I mean, I was meant to be the older, protective brother – I was supposed to care. Her reaction made me more curious – she clearly liked someone, but the question was who was it?
“I said, who are you interested in? Like, who do you like? Like, like?”
“Like a girl is going to tell her brother that!” Claire said, intervening, and getting Jamie of the hook. Sly, I thought, girls are always looking out for each other, sometimes it’s really infuriating.
Why did women do that? Look out for each other and was always there for them. Why did women go to the toilets in groups? Were they incapable of peeing alone? What went on in the girl’s bathroom?
I looked at Jamie more closely and tried to forget I was her brother. I aimed to detach myself from my soul and pretend I was an average bloke, and her an average girl. Jamie was pretty – she had beautiful brown hair we both inherited from our mother, ‘brown and boring’ she told her. Her hair was wavy and she hated it – she also inherited that from her mum. Her eyes were weird: they were brown near the pupil, but they got progressively lighter until it looked nearly green, then pale grey. On her left eye, there was a dark brown mark that made her unique. It was a freckle, she told me, on her eyeball, in the shape of a heart. It was amazing that something as small as that could make her so unique and special. Of course, that as my dramatic brotherly side coming through – though any lad that didn’t think Jamie was unique and special was a fool – a foolish fool, too. Her skin was always pale – she hardly ever went out these days, due to a certain idiot ruining her life. However, she regularly went out with Tiff, and had her drama clubs on Wednesday nights too, that I was thankful for. She had a freckly face that I knew she hated. She had once told me she Googled celebrities with freckly faces, and her Google search had come up with nothing – of course, I knew she was lying, seeing as I Googled it later that night, and plenty celebrities popped up.
Jamie liked to drown herself in clothes because she wasn’t very confident as herself, with new people. She was awfully shy when she was with new people. Her drama was good for her – it gave her more confidence, and she flourished when acting as someone else. I knew she loved to escape from her life and pretend to be someone else – it gave her a sort of liberty that no one but an actor could comprehend. I suppose that’s why we all get involved in drama and acting – to escape. Today, Jamie was sporting a pair of fashionable black trousers that was held up with a belt and trailed on the floor. Her body was covered by a long, baggy hoodie that hid all of her curves. Hidden underneath the hoodie was a white shirt and tie with a black top underneath that. She would take off the hoodie at school, and she put it on as soon as she was out of the school grounds. When nobody was around, she’d take her hoodie off, and she was a different person. She’d come home and change out of her black top and change it to pink or purple of blue and get out of her black trousers and put on a pair of tights that matched her top, then a pair of short black shorts. She’d straighten her hair and clip in some coloured hair extensions that matched her tights and top. Then she’d slip on a pair of black plimsolls and wander downstairs to look after our baby sister and make herself some pasta.
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Tick Tock - Time's Running OutRomance
“Aww, baby!” I muttered, pulling her in for a hug again. As she hugged me, I thought about how innocent she was. Then it was like a lit light bulb was held over my head. “We’re going to turn you into a right wee slut,” I muttered. Then I said it lou...