Effortless (h.s.)

Chapter TWO - clarity

So you may be wondering, what the hell is the background to all of this.

Well, my name is Lennon Carter, I was born and raised in Canada but moved to Los Angeles, California when I was fifteen due to my mothers modeling agency. She started a business for younger girls and boys to jump their careers, in my eyes, it's a scam. But she swears it works. We moved here six years ago.

I went to UCLA for three years, I dropped out on the second day of my senior year. I need 12 more credits to graduate. I was a music major, another thing that my parents absolutely despised. That's one of the main reasons why I am in the predicament that I am in today.

A week ago they had the last straw when I refused to get out of bed.

I'm not depressed, have anxiety, or anything along those lines. But I can admit I don't see myself making it too much further down the path I'm currently on. Not in a sad 'im so trendy and angst' way but really, I'm not doing too much at the moment.

They didn't enjoy my company anymore, I was a college drop out, and at 21 years old instead of getting a slight push, I got a huge shove.

I don't know, maybe it was for the best.

I rolled over onto my side, the mattress hard and springy beneath me. My blush pink sheets and comforter were little to no help to cushioning, some things can't be fixed I guess.

The walls in my apartment were white and the flooring was oak sealed with a shiny finish. The lighting was limited, and after last night I knew the living room would be darker than usual.

The bed was a full with a brass bar headboard and no foot board, and there was a singular dresser to the left of me underneath a small, but helpful window. It was the fire escape as well.

My duffel bags that I had taken from my parents house sat patiently in the corner, untouched. I didn't bother putting them away because it hadn't sunk it yet I wasn't going home. It was a dream that would end soon and I would wake up back in bed at my parents house. Not here, in a dingy apartment by myself.

I decided to get up and make myself a cup of coffee, the door to my bedroom was open so before I was even out to the main part of the place, I saw broken glass, a rag, and a glass cup sprawled across the floor.

It felt good to rub my burning tired eyes. It also helped to ignore the absolute mess this place was now. It was worse than before.

After making a cup of coffee, I carried the mug into my bathroom where I started to get ready for the day. I did have money, not a lot, but enough to get me started on my own.

I jumped in the shower quickly to rinse off the memories of last night.

I started to think about Harry.

I wonder if I'll ever see him again?

Probably not, I figured that his apartment was on the opposite site of the complex and that most likely it was one of his many homes. If I ever saw him at even just once I think it would be pure luck.

He also seemed very intoxicated so can't imagine he would remember me, and if he did, there would be no reason for him to drop by again. If I were in his shoes I would hide from whoever saw me like that for the rest of eternity.

My heart hurt a little knowing I'd never see my idol again, but it was comforting to know that he was so close to me. Within feet, basically.

I got out of the shower and drank my now lukewarm coffee.

I finished washing my face and brushing my brown highlighted hair, I curled it lightly to give it some shape before adding a coat of mascara on my lashes and then going to my bedroom to put on something clean.

My outfit was a pair of flowy yellow-striped, high waisted shorts and a white, cropped t-shirt. I wore my usual rings and slipped on my sandals.

I unlocked the door and took the chain out of the frame holder, and headed down the blue stairs to the maintenance and front service desk.

The lady at the desk was named Loraine and was she a character.

Her curly red-dyed hair was practically straw at her age and it carried the smell of her cigarettes like no other. It seemed as though no matter how early in the day I would see her, she would always manage to have a stain on her blouse as well.

I don't think she was very fond of me, but honestly I didn't really care. I always had questions for her and she was fed up, I was new here though. How the hell am I supposed to know where the brooms are?

I smiled at the lady behind the counter and in return got a grunt.

Better than nothing.

I resumed my business and dug in one of the closets that contained all of the residents cleaning supplies. We were allowed to use them ourselves as long as we brought them back. I didn't have a maid, but a lot of the larger and more expensive apartments did.

I hurried out of the main lobby with a broom, cleaning solution, and some paper towels. My feet flew up the stairs so I could avoid anyone else today, the receptionist was enough for me.

My heart dropped and I hardly believed it when a thick British voice boomed down the stairs along with footsteps, it sounded like he was on the phone and coming around the bend in the hallway.

I didn't waste any time to bolt into my apartment, shutting the door quietly but firmly behind me. Locking both locks.

The breath had been knocked out of me, I carefully stepped away from the secured door and steadied my breathing. My brunette hair was knotty as my fingers dragged through with tension.

"No... yea', I have to go right now but I'll meet you downtown? Mate... okay," his voice grew louder by the second until it halted outside my door.

Then silence became the loudest noise in the room.

A knock sounded through my empty apartment.

I covered my mouth with my hands and backed up further into the living room and away from the door. I blinked a few times, maybe this was all in my head... maybe-

KNOCK.

I couldn't even bring myself to breathe, I knew the walls were so thin that if I took a normal step on this flooring he could hear. Frankly I was too petrified to have another encounter with him. And this time he would be sober.

He must remember last night if he came back.

My brain stopped working for a second when a yellow envelope was slid under my door, it was the kind you see when buying a house or handling important documents.

The clicking of his shoes started up again and they stopped, turning into thuds while hurrying down the blue carpeted stairs.

My hands fell to my sides and walked over to the front door, bending down next to the glass and envelope.

Shakily, I pulled open the envelope and reached in to find a piece of scratch paper.

"This is a 'I'm sorry I broke your lamp' and 'thank you for helping me out' card, I was planning on going to the store to get you one, but I decided to make my own.

I'm sorry for breaking your lamp and thank you so very much for helping me.

I appreciate it, here's a little something for a new lamp. H xx ." I tilted my head to the side and squinted my eyes.

I pulled out a wad of cash from the bottom of the envelope.

My mouth dropped and butterflies filled my stomach.

One thousand dollars.