Fangirl // Dylan O'Brien

new beginnings and old faces.

pictured above: Ella and Brooklyn's outfits as described in the chapter.

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Ella has me try on at least 16 outfits, circling me like a whirlwind of creativity, snapping pictures with different angles, poses and backgrounds.

An hour passes. Then two.

Finally, she is happy with our work and sends me to make us drinks while she packs up. i am more than happy to oblige and i feel proud of her as i pour two tall glasses of raspberry lemonade.

As i am putting ice into the two cups, i think back to when she 13 and first started to really form her interest in the fashion industry.

Ella has always been creative. As children we used to play dollies and i always wondered how hers ended up with the better outfits, shoes and more sparkly accessories. I'd asked her where she bought them and she laughed and showed me her craft room. It had been covered in glitter, cloth, pieces of old clothes, sewing needles and thread.

That afternoon we spent hours making and sewing clothes for our dollies and she even made me a hat out of an old tea towel.

I figured out that fashion was not my talent when i pricked myself with the needle and my end result was wonky and tatted, and made myself more useful by providing her entertainment by singing as she worked her magic.

I put two metal straws in our drinks and head back up the stairs towards my best friend. I nudge open the door with my foot to find her looking up at me smiling before rushing up to grab her glass.

I look outside to see the sun setting and suggest we go downstairs to watch it. She eagerly agrees and we grab a handful of cream coloured knitted blankets, heading down the stairs. I turn the black handle to the French doors leading out onto the patio and push, letting in the last trickles of sunlight and the slightly colder air.

We take our seats on the wooden seating and bundle up in the blankets. For a moment, no sound is made apart from the occasional clink of our metal straws as we sip our drinks and watch the layers of pink turn into orange, orange into red and red into deep blue as the night folds arounds us.

I exchange a smile with my best friend as we wordlessly get up and head back into my house, the lights from the kitchen illuminating our pathway into the warm building.

Taking our cups, we partake in light conversation and occasional laughter as i wash up our cups, dry them thoroughly and put them back into their rightful spaces in the cupboard.

Ella says she is too tired to drive home and heads to the guest room opposite mine, which may as well be known as hers, the amount of times she stays over. A lot of the time she just shares my bed with me, but when she has university work to do or an early start, she will stay in her room as to avoid waking me when she leaves.

She informed me earlier she has a meeting with an estate agent tomorrow to view an apartment round the corner from here, and only 10 minutes from her family house. We spent an evening a few weeks back searching for apartments or possible spaces for Ella to move into. I assume she just wants to feel independent, which she definitely is, and I'm super excited and intrigued to see how she'll decorate.

Throwing my hair up, i take off the minimal makeup laying on face and brush my teeth. I change into a soft, sage green matching jumper and PJ bottom set before putting my clothes into the wash bin and climbing underneath my plush white duvet. I settle into my king bed before checking my social media's, setting an alarm for tomorrow and plugging my charger into the space at the bottom of my phone.

My head hits the pillow and i start to drift off, dreams of America filling my head as i await the arrival of the day we leave.

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