Stay With me || H.S

Chapter 2

I woke up early the next morning, last nights makeup still on my eyes. My reflection almost scared me! I had black eye shadow covering my under-eyelids, my lashes clumped together, making it difficult to blink. After jumping in the shower, grabbing some leggings a hoodie, and applying a small amount of foundation and mascara, I stepped into the small kitchen, beginning to brew coffee.

I took a seat in the chilly medal chair on my patio, sipping lightly on my coffee, warming my throat into my stomach. The flower boxes on the edge of the brick wall were overgrown, slowly turning crunchy and brown.

I never was blessed with a green thumb. I have tried again and again to grow flowers of some sort, but I just can never keep up with them.

After I finished my coffee, and had washed the empty mug, it was my favorite one, a large white one with the outline of a black Eiffel Tower. Jake had given it to me on Valentines day, along with a silver heart necklace that was sitting inside the mug. I still remember that day like it was yesterday.

I had a feeling that today might be some what productive, I don't know why, I just had the feeling of inspiration in the pit of my stomach. Grabbing my laptop and plopping on the soft couch, I logged onto Hamilton University's website. It was my dream college. I have always wanted to be a writer, If I could ever afford the tuition...and possibly if I had better credentials, I would be able to go..maybe publish a book of my own someday, get my name out there. I don't want to do this to become famous, or for the millions of dollars, (If I was to ever publish something worthy of that) I just want to known that I was capable of that. To know that I wasn't put on this earth to go to school for 16 years or more, just to sit at a small desk for 13 hours...then go home to my small apartment that I can barley afford, just to repeat the same process the next day.

I stared at the pictures of the college sliding across the screen for minuets until I abruptly closed the computer, setting it on the table in front of me. Some days...as of right now, I feel as though I don't really have a purpose. I am 23 years old..not in school anymore, working at some snobby private school, then wasting my evenings teaching college students..I only say wasting because I have not found one student yet who really want to be there. None of them try, they hand in mediocre work, when they actually do the work, they just don't know what their missing out on. I also don't have a child to take care of, or even a pet. I don't have parents that I can always visit for a home-cooked meal, or to sleep in my childhood bedroom if I am over homesick, I don't have elderly grandparents I can make soup for and visit them, telling them all about my day..I have no one. Well, I shouldn't say that, I do have Jamie, but I know that her and Dean will soon be married, and she has always told me she never wants her children to grow up in the city..it's just a matter of time until Jamie and Dean start their lives, I'm over the moon excited that she was able to find someone who cares for her so much, I just wish I could have as well...

I can't keep doing this, the self-pity act. I have become much too accustomed to it lately, It must stop.

I grabbed my purse off the counter, slipped on a pair of brown comfy boots, and stepped out of the apartment, walking down the hall to the old creaky elevator.

I am never prepared for the cool gust of air that hits your face when you step out into the city. I walked down the street, heading towards the shops. I rarely ever have enough cash to go blow on brand new clothes, not that I need them. I had a few extra bills today, so I decided to treat myself to a strawberry pastry down at the bakery. I began to regret my decision as I walked in, the line nearly out the door. I walked to the back, tapping my feet on the tile floor, watching the clock on the wall tick and tick, minuet after minuet.

"Fancy seeing you here." The strong English accent startled me, yet warming my stomach as I turned around, facing none other than Harry Styles, dressed in a black dress coat, his nose red from the wind, the dark curls sweeping over his forehead.