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"Trying to tear her down was your first mistake 'cause little do you know, she wasn't built to break" - Grace VanderWaal

Addison's POV

If there is one thing that you should know about me is that I am not like every other 21 year old girl. I'm far from it to be honest.
I don't even know where to start the misery that's called my life but let's try.

First of all, my life is a never ending series of embarrassing moments. I had even once given them a name because they seem to happen way too often.
They are called Addie moments.

Oh that's me, by the way. Addison. And because I am being Addison through and through in these moments, I named them after me.

On a scale of one to ten, most of the Addie moments manage to be at least a twelve. But to be fair, only approximately 40 percent of these Addie moments are caused by my brutishness.

The other 60 are caused by my disorder. Yeah disorder, you've heard right.

I have Tourette syndrome and it sucks. Of course you can live with it but these stupid tics have caused me so many embarrassing situations, I'd prefer to not have Tourette.

The thing is, it's not only an unwanted sensation in the muscle of my neck and shoulder which causes me to twitch when I'm under pressure, I also do curse and I can't suppress it.

Let me tell you, it sucks.

Okay, I just changed my mind. My life is not a never ending series of Addie moments, it actually is one big Addie moment. One embarrassing moment.

It's not only my disorder that sucks but my appearance as well. I look like as if I had put my finger into a socket. I'd love to have curls but what's on my head can't be called curls. Mob would do it justice because all that's there is dark blonde frizz.

I don't know who blessed me with The Mob but certainly not my parents because they both have perfectly silky and shiny hair, you won't even think we were related if you saw us.
The only thing I got from my mum was an explosion of freckles on my nose and my slim but tall figure with the exception that it looked sweet on my mum.

"Addie are you daydreaming again?" Someone calls and I wince. Oops, yeah, I forgot to mention that I tend to daydream. A lot actually.

"Sorry Tess." I yell back and keep on tying the shoelaces of my rollerblades. It wouldn't surprise me if I stumbled over them today because that's something that actually doesn't happen that rarely.

I stand up, straighten my waitress uniform and skate over to the bar counter to grab the two drinks that are waiting to be served. I smile at Tessa who is standing behind the bar and doing the dishes. She smiles back and winks at me.

I skate over to table three to serve the drinks to an elder woman and probably her grandson, a - let's say it in a nice way - chubby boy at the age of around ten. I only have to take one look at him and I immediately know he's going to cause trouble.

He grins at me as I put down the glasses of smoothie onto the table. I don't know what he is up to but I can sense something's going to happen. This smutty grin gave it away.

"That's not the shake I ordered, Granny." He says, his stubby fingers cramping around the gooey lollipop in his also gooey mouth. His grandma gives me a killing glance and I immediately feel the muscles in my neck and shoulder area tense. Oh no, I can see where this would end.

Working in New York in a café that serves on rollerblades in a park sounds fun and most of the time it actually is but sometimes it's just nerve-wracking because New Yorkers tend to be a bit quirky. Best example is sitting right under my nose.

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