THE SECRETS WE KEEP.

- SISTERLY LOVE.

Hello everybody, long time no talk! I hope you've all been keeping well and that your back to school/college/uni or work has been easy as it can possibly be. My A-Levels just began (if you wish let me know your studies below I'd love to know) so obviously writing was not a main priority. I am not struggling with work load or tests as of yet, I have settled into my final two years of secondary education quick nicely so my spare time attention is back to writing. I'm just going to give you all a simple run-down of what is in store for the next while. Instead of burning myself out on one whole story, I will be alternating between two - this story, basically clearing up the loose ends and finishing off the story, and the oneshots, a more relaxed and fun approach to writing. In the meantime, I will be preparing a volume 2 of this story, changing up chapters and rewriting them into a much better style that I am genuinely pleased with. This story will remain up for your own personal reading; however, once I finish the second volume I will be archiving this story and potentially the oneshots. I do wish to use this account for telling the stories of my imagination and broaden my horizons beyond Joe and Dianne. I wish to keep stories that I truly am happy with published for anybody to read. Of course, if anybody happens to reach out and asks for a copy, I will gladly type this story onto a computer in a word document form and send it across to you (I'm not too sure anybody would want that though!) Anyway, that's enough of my rambling, I hope you enjoy this chapter and the developing sister relationship between Zoe and Dianne <3

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DIANNES POV:
Confronting my reflection in the mirrored surface, analysing each segment of my being with a fine tooth comb, desperately hunting a section of insecurity, it was unbelievable that this woman before me was a quarter-finalist on Strictly Come Dancing. Whilst many will reiterate the premature nature of my excitement, dwelling over the multiple hurdles to tackle before the final's date, but this little girl from Bunbury wouldn't have imagined achieving this in her lifetime. Embellishing on my attire for the occasion, an animalist print frock was sheltering my body with a slit broadening along one side of the leg merging just below the hip, and a v-line accentuating my cleavage area. The garment was paired with a matching set of heels to add a few inches to my height, the forepart agape to flaunt the delicate shade of lavender, applied by the one and only Amy Dowden during those spare minutes unoccupied by showtime activities. In regards to my upper body, the heated curls maintained their shape to cascade across my shoulders to just cut off at my chest, whilst the light shimmer of makeup smeared across my facial features lingered into the evening.

By the rhythmic melody pounded by a fist against the wooden textile, a prearranged jingle performed by either partner to attract my attention away from the obvious inspection over my image, I brushed my hands along my dress to sweep any escaped strands or speckles of dust onto the carpet before taking a confident stride in the direction of the door and widening the gap between the doorframe. Our outfits were not matching in their colour pattern, however his modest approach to the spectrum of shading combining with my individualist sense of style blend perfectly together. His body was clothed in a simplistic attire of coal trousers, supported by the use of a belt tightened around his waist, and a mosaic shirt of chalk and silver hues, the button's clasping both sides into one slightly opened to reveal a small section of his chest without the nature of exposure to an afterparty. Sheltering his feet was the customary pair of black converse, a staple aspect of Joe's wardrobe his mind reprimands him for retaining yet his heart cannot part with. His hair was removed from its ridiculous manbun and, by employing his signature one handed comb through the locks, it was reverted to its natural manner that adjusted his demeanour.

I perceived his lingering gaze over certain sections of my figure, a particular area longer than others, before his arm was hurled around my shoulder to ease the tug of my body into his own. "There may have a little surprise for you.." Joe's lips encompassed my ear's opening, faintly whispering his excitement for this party along our stroll that heightened the pulsating in my chest. This weekly soirée was a well-deserved celebration of his achievements, for a performance with props is forever a risk to any dancer, especially if the article is on the smaller scale of size such as basketballs. Yet Joe managed to execute this flawlessly, converting himself into the true professional his destiny was prophesied. Never once did he doubt my judgement nor create opposition to my choreography decisions, rather he fulfilled his role of student and allowed total control to fall into my palms.