Privacy [completed]

TWO| where is love?

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"I can't believe we're actually going to see One Direction! I hope Harry notices me!" Megan had squealed.

We had landed in Kansas not long after she said those words. Kansas was nothing special. Neither was Colorado, but that's just how it is. I don't remember how I felt when we had landed. Maybe I wasn't feeling anything. We took an Uber to our 5-star hotel room with me paying for both. Well, Mother paid for it when she learned I was going on a vacation to somehow have fun a week ago.

"I'm hungry," Megan groaned. "Let's go get some dinner!" She had grabbed her clear lip-gloss and started to apply it gingerly on her lip-injected lips. "It can be a late celebration for my birthday a week ago. Down?"

I kept silent and nodded.

"And no, you dip shit!" She had suddenly yelled. "I know you're thinking I'm eighteen! I'm nineteen!"

I wasn't truly thinking that as I would have to somewhat care about it to think it. For some reason it's so difficult to respond to people. Just as if I would've responded to her, she would've been angrier at me and then yelled at me.

"Did you rent a car for the week?" Megan had asked.

I'm actually paying for everything? I remember thinking that.

"Hello, Blue Girl!" She groaned whilst looking down at me. "I'm talking to you!"

I always took so long to answer. I don't know why. I guess I'm just slow at everything. I don't know how to answer her, I never did. She was an open book, but she had secret pages that were so difficult to read. They were in English, but the letters were foreign to me. I also remember that being the first time I was called Blue Girl. I hated that nickname.

"Well, you're very fucking rich. You can go ahead and pay for everything. I don't see why not?" Megan had shrugged whilst twisting the cap of her clear lip-gloss.

The lip-gloss was clear– I think, but it had turned a mellow pinkish tone. I assumed because she somehow mixed the colors. I wouldn't know how she made that mistake. I never wore makeup. Maybe it wasn't a mistake? I wouldn't know what's a mistake anymore or not. Maybe she liked mixing shades. Maybe it was something popular to do that, or maybe she didn't have another choice.

"I'm not rich," I finally answered.

She laughed loudly. "Bitch!" It wasn't an insulting tone. "If you're not rich then I'm not pretty!" Megan had laughed. "And I'm definitely pretty, so you're definitely rich. When I went to your castle of a fucking home, I was scared to get lost!"

I remember wondering if she was in love with her prettiness? Is that what Love is? Beauty? To a sense, Love begins with beauty doesn't it? Isn't that usually how we start loving people and things? –by looking at the exterior? I wonder how far that takes Love.

Megan has huffed with an annoyed expression stuck on her makeup covered face. "Damn, you're so fucking irritating!" She muttered it under her breath. "Why don't you answer me?!" She asked.

Megan and I were never friends. We both knew that. 

She wanted to see One Direction and I fell for her devious plan.

She had groaned. "I should've expected you to be silent," she had huffed. "You never speak a damn word."

Would it be better if I was like my sister? Would that be better for everyone if I talked? Why did people want me to talk so bad? I remember thinking that. It's always been that way. I've never been a loud or talkative person. Is that why I am the way I am? Because I didn't follow the rules and speak as much as the other girls too?