Everything About You. [ON HOLD]

Chapter 1.

Chapter One.

I wake to the morning light of Holmes Chapel streaming through my window. Harry bounds into my room, shaking me awake. “Kiki!” I groan and hit him with the pillow previously underneath my head. Stupid morning person. “Yeh need to wake-y wake-y, Mum’s made her famous waffles for breakfast.” I shoot up into a sitting position and see Harry’s stark naked ass leaving my room.

“Put some clothes on you idiot!” I say as I close the door to my room. I’m only wearing a large, old t-shirt of Harry’s and some knickers. After slipping on my glasses, I pull on a pair of shorts and pulled on a bra without taking off Harry’s shirt, and walk down stairs and see pictures of Harry and I when we were real little, me towering over him until the pictures of the summer he turned seven. Every summer since I was five, I’ve come up to Holmes Chapel from London to live with my uncle, aunt and cousin. But now that I’m eighteen, I’ve come to live here, after coming to enjoy it so.

And, also because I have a job offer here to become a stylist, and I really think I’ll get the job even though I’m only almost nineteen.

I’ve been looking through newspapers in Holmes Chapel for the past month to find a flat to live in, but after looking at over a dozen places, I still haven’t found one suitable for me.

“Erika!” My ears notice Uncle Joe’s excited voice as I mosey down the last step. “Erika, look, I think I’ve found a place you’ll like. Read here,” he points to a section circled by his pen and I take the paper and read over it carefully.

“This . . . this sounds perfect,” I smile and hug my uncle, “I’ll have to check it out this afternoon after the final interview.”

“Good luck hun,” he pats my shoulder as I walk into the kitchen where Aunt Ann is slipping a waffle onto a plate and handing it to me as Harry devours his.

Her smile is beautiful, so is her somewhat-aged face, “Good morning Erika.”

“Mornin’ Aunt Ann,” I kiss her cheek before I sit next to Harry on the tall stool. We eat, making small talk as we do so. “I think I’m going to go check out a flat nearby after my final interview,” I mention as I finish off my breakfast and put my dishes in the sink after washing them off.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

While getting ready for my interview, I see the picture of me and my twin, me on Jamie’s back, smiling like an idiot with Harry photo-bombing our picture in the background with two thumbs up. It was taken two weeks after the surgery, two weeks before the wreck. I smile at my twin, “Love you Jamie.” Overlooking my outfit one last time, I nod reassuringly at myself before walking down the steps.

Harry is in his work uniform and I ruffle his hair and grab an apple, taking a chunk out of it and eating, “When do need to go to work baker boy?”

Flipping his hair, he’s attempting to tame his ‘Style curls’ as I call them. I have them too, from my dad. “Mum asked if you could drive me there and then pick me up after my shift’s done. It’s 10 to 4.”

“’Course Curls,” I grab my car keys from the bowl. As soon as we were out the door, I had Harry survey my outfit. “Do I look like I could be a stylist?”

Harry glances over me, making me nervous, flips my high ponytail between his fingers and makes a sound that resembles uncertainty, “I’m just kidding Ki, you look as fantastic as always.”

“You know flattery doesn’t get you very far with me, Harry,” I look over at him as he helps me pull the hood over my Mini Cooper, so as not to mess up my hair. “Get in, you can’t be late and I really can’t afford to be late so get a move on.” As soon as Harry’s door is closed, I stomp on the gas and make it towards the bakery that Harry works at over the summer and part-time during school.

In a matter of minutes, due to my reckless speed, we are in the bakery’s parking lot, “See you at four Hare!” I shout out the window and drive over to the tall building on the other side of town. With five minutes to spare, I’m glad I wore my TOMS and decided against my heels. Thanks to running cross country in high school, I made it up five flights of stairs with thirty seconds left and not a drop of sweat on my body.

I push open the door and see someone waiting for me, “Erika Styles?” I nod with a friendly, closed-mouth smile, “we’ve been expecting you.”