Kissing You

Kissing You (1)

 Chapter One

"I don't know what's right and what's real, anymore

I don't know how I'm meant to feel, anymore

And when do you think it will all become clear

Cause I'm being taken over by The Fear."

~The Fear, Lily Allen

"Katelyn."

I looked up from her book to my father. He was sitting on the plush one sitter sofa, reading a newspaper. He glanced at the golden Rolex watch on his wrist.

“It’s just 7 tonight,” he informed me. “Do you mind going to the bank and helping me get some money? Normally I would do it myself, but the stocks are going to be out in a few minutes time.”

That was so like my father. Nothing was ever more important than the stocks.

“Okay,” I agreed monotonously, standing up and slipping a bookmark between the pages. I was the only one my father trusted, apart from himself, to get money from the bank. He handed me his card and went back to reading the paper like nothing ever happened.

I stalked out to the front door and made my way across the courtyard, grabbing the little black bag I always hung on the banister of the porch. Little golden lights still decorated the apple trees growing in the corners of the courtyard, leftover from Christmas. I hoped they’d never take it down, because I liked them there. They gave me a feeling of home.

I slipped out the gate, waving to Benjamin, the old security guard. The cool night air hit me with its rich scents. I could smell the nice, earthy smell of freshly cut grass, mingled with the smell of the rain last night. I huddled a little tighter in my grey hoodie.

The bank was at the end of the next street, dotted with little alleyways that were dead ends. My neighbourhood was a relatively quiet place, and honestly, I didn’t know why my father chose to live here, seeing as he could buy Buckingham Palace. The only reason he gave me was that this place was where he and my mother had lived before she died.

I was like, whatever. Mean, I know.

But I hadn’t really known my mother. She’d died just months after I was born. I remembered nothing of her, so I didn’t really miss her. How could you miss someone you didn’t know?

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize that I was in front of the bank. My legs seemed to carry me forward automatically, and I pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside the deserted place, my footsteps muffled on the grey carpet floor.

The bank teller had been shuffling some notes together in a pile. When she glanced at me, her brow furrowed and she said rather irritably, “Sorry, but we’re about to close. Could you come back tomorrow?”

I ignored this and instead just walked coolly up to the front desk. Once this woman knew who I was, I’d have no problems. In fact, she’d probably stay up till 10 just to serve me. Not that I liked that, of course. My father did, though.

“Excuse me,” I said in a low voice. “I’d like to withdraw 50 000 pounds from the Greene account, please.”

“The Greene account?” repeated the woman in a hushed tone. I knew what she was thinking: The Greene account that held more money in it than the whole bank put together? “Right away, madam, right away! You must be Miss Greene then, the daughter of the famous Mr Greene?” said the woman, still awed.

“Yeah,” I said glumly. Why couldn’t people just treat me like a normal person instead of the ‘daughter of Mr Greene’?

As you may have guessed now, I am the daughter of the richest, wealthiest and most snobbish man in all of England. My father runs a company of companies- honestly, I didn’t know. I wasn’t into politics and stuff, okay? All I liked was bad movies and pepperoni pizza.