"ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ, ᴡᴇ ʙᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ."
~~~
Lorelai Hawthorne is perfectly content, it seems as though she has everything. That is until her whole world is turned upside down when a mysterious stranger inherits her grandfather's billions. Twist...
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chapter three - "who is she?"
...
Rory refused to go to school. Sure, she got ready and arrived at school to please her mother, but what Zara didn't know is that Rory walked through the front gate and out the back door.
So there she sat, her white blouse untucked, the top buttons undone, and her sleeves rolled up. Her skirt rode dangerously up her thighs, as she sat upon one of the spiralling staircases. She reached over and retrieved a packet of cigarettes and a light from her discarded blazer.
Rory placed a cigarette between her cherry painted lips, and placed a lighter to the end. She savoured the smoke, and sighed in relief at the taste.
Distant footsteps began to draw closer, until they entered the library.
"Grayson," she greeted, a mischievous smile lit her face.
"Rory," her cousin returned, slowly walking into her view.
"What is that?" Grayson asked, gesturing to the cigarette between her fingers.
"And I thought you were the smart one, Gray," Rory replied with a grin, although her words were laced with sarcasm.
"Why are you smoking?" Grayson rephrased impatiently, his blond hair reflected silver in the sunlight.
"Why not?" she shrugged, blowing out more smoke.
"You said that real dancers don't put crap into their bodies," Grayson recited her own words that she had said months before.
"Well," Rory said bluntly, "I'm not a ballerina anymore. So..."
Grayson very almost flinched at his cousin's out of character behaviour. This was extremely unlike her. Ever since the funeral.
"You're also sitting here, talking to me, despite school finishing in ten minutes. Why are you skipping school?" he pressed, however he was met with silence.
"You're insufferable," Grayson muttered.
"And you love me for it," Rory shot him a sweet smile.
He dropped the conversation, knowing how stubborn his cousin was. Grayson then began scanning the room for his desired book, until her pulled it off the shelve. He then proceeded to sit on an emerald couch, the two simply sat in silence.
Until hurricane Jameson arrived.
His green eyes trailed over Rory, and the cigarette she was smoking. He didn't utter a word, his poker face had always been irritatingly good.
That's what Rory found comforting about him. He would give her space, and never push the boundaries.
"Can I have one?" Jameson asked, flopping down on the couch opposite his brother, although his eyes on the blonde girl.
