Chapter 34
About two years in.
Olivia Devine
I was doing well in my fashion school. I was considered the best designer in my class. Most of my styles were based off of the people I adored. Perrie, the boys, my brothers. Anyone.
Especially Zayn.
I wore his leather jacket everyday.
Anytime we had to design clothes for men, all I could think of was what Zayn would wear or what would look good on him. I did each stich and pull and design for him.
I made a lot of great friends. There was Jill, and her twin Jack (Yes, Jack and Jill. Jill prays for her mother each night. Why would you do that to your children?). Jack was in engineering but came to visit his sister occasionally which I thought was cool. Jill and my other friends, Mackenzie and Genevieve, were convinced he was "smitten" with me.
Mackenzie and Genevieve liked vintage things and their styles reflected them perfectly. Jill's style was good girl gone bad full of leather and studs and combat boots. She was a Catholic school girl all throughout her childhood-strict parents, strict rules. When she went to college, this was her time to rebel. It made sense to me, so I didn't judge her. She grew up wearing blouses up to her neck and skirts down to her ankles. I watched her as she cut up her skirts with glee and altered them to a shorter length.
I guess you could say I was a mix. There was a little edge to my designs, but not trashy or too much. It had hints of vintage that made the look special.
Fashion school was tough. I barely slept. Sometimes money was tight for tuition. I didn't want to rely on my brothers very much so I did the best I could. The school was in New York so even if they did send me money, it probably wouldn't come in time to meet the deadline.
"Mackenzie. I will prick you with this pencil." I muttered to my roomate.
"Oh no!" She rolled her eyes. "What shall I do?"
"Suck it up!" I said in my best valley girl voice. We both burst into laughter. It was an inside joke no one else would understand.
Mackenzie fell down onto her bed. "I just realized something."
"And what is that?"
"You're the only one who doesn't call me 'Zee'."
Ahh, it was simple. 'Zee' reminded me of Z, a nickname for the one and only Zayn Malik. Zayn made me upset yet happy at the same time. I'd hear about him on the news and radio and it made me smile. Then I'd look at my wrist and figure out how many days were left.
This was how he felt when I made him wait.
I didn't talk to the other lads as much. I felt it'd be wrong to talk to them, but not him.
"I had a friend named Z." I muttered, shading in the oversized jean jacket. "That's all."
"Is he The Artist?" She grinned.
I laughed gently. The Artist was what the girls nicknamed Zayn. I thought it was really sweet. I just hoped his dream would come true.
"Yes. He's the Artist."
"Well, if your Z doesn't show up, I'll be your Z."
"Was that supposed to comfort me?" I burst out int laughter as she rolled her eyes.
"I'm trying. If not, Jill's brother is pretty cute." She elbowed me a couple times. "Eh? Eh?"
"Sorry. I don't date characters that are in nursery rhymes."
Mackenzie stared at me as I laughed at my own joke. I was hilarious. Anyone who thought otherwise was a loser and probably had no friends.
"T-That was awful. You just - " Mackenzie put her hands up, shook her head, and sighed. "You're drunk. You need sleep."
"It's that hour of the night, my deaar."
"You're stupid."
"Careful, Mackenzie. Lies like those will make you lose your only friend in this entire world."
"I have other f-friends!"
"Sure, sweetheart."
"I hate you."
"You don't mean that." I threw in a couple of fake sniffles and "got emotional".
"You're right. I don't." She squeezed my shoulder. "Get some sleep, okay?"
"Sure, Mother." I snorted as she headed to the bathroom. I sat at my desk in the dim light and finished up my sketch. I was content with it. It had taken a while but I liked how the colors looked. I liked how the jacket gave it that quick, "Don't give a crap" look to it but still kept somewhat of a feminine side. I think my style reflected me. I was like the weather - often unpredictable. I was very indecsive and my thoughts and beliefs often contradicted with each other. I could never stick with one thing. I think I realized that. That's why I went with vintage but that hint of grunge to give it an edge.
Maybe I could create a line for indecisive girls like me. I'd make it easy on them. It'd flatter every single body type because everyone deserves to look and feel amazing no matter what.
I called the sketch, The Artist, for more than one reason.