Fashionista

one.

4 months ago.

.

.

.

.

.

I lie back in my chair in front of giant mirrors as Rochet, our make up man, swipes the soft brush across my cheek. I bring the smoke weed near my lips and inhale a big smoke. The grey cloud slowly escapes my mouth carrying away some amount of my tension with it. Frankly, this poisonous gas is much more comforting than the poisonous memories buried deep inside the flesh on my skin.

"Ciara! your queue in five!" the ramp manager yells. As usual I don't give a fuck about her and she walks away with a big sigh. The idiotic way she rolls her eyes.

A sarcastic laugh escapes my lips on the thought that how the whole industry is wrapped around my finger. I cut one string and the designers suffer either in a good or bad way, depending on what string I cut loose.

Dumping the weed in the ashtray, I walk to the queue. A shitty music bangs my ear drums and i flinch at its noise. No fucking way I'm gonna walk the ramp to this shit.

"Nia! Nia!" I call out.

A girl with black t-shirt, ugly blue jeans and shitty hair comes panting.

"I'm not gonna walk to this shitty music. You know what to do next."

She nods in agreement and i chuckle at her 'oh my fuck' expression on her expressionless face.

The last model has walked in and I'm still waiting for the music to change.

Melody from my favorite tune fills my ears, boosting up all the confidence in me.

I walk on the ramp, keeping my attitude upright, i pose for the camera and walk back.

A few minutes later I walk back to the ramp with Marcus, for whom I've walked the ramp today.

I wave at many familiar faces but my eyes land on a new face. I've never seen this face before in my any show.

... the after party ...

"Ciara!" A blonde, blue eyed, Irish accented, perfect 32 while smiled boy shouts.

"Niall!" i shout teasing him back with his accent.

He rolls his eyes and then pulls me into a hug. Across his shoulder, my eyes land on the guy earlier from the audience. Oh his piercing green orbs.

"How are you sexy!" I pull from the hug and smack his bums on the side.

He shoots me glare and I cannot help but laugh loudly. But I contain myself as I realise the green orbs still holding a stare on my face.

"Ciara, this is Styles, Harry Styles. The wannabe famous fashion designer." Niall finally Introduces me to him.

Harry Styles. Interesting, very interesting.

" Hi. I'm Ciara Banks."

"Of course. Everyone knows you." He speaks in an amazingly thick accent.

" Ciara would love to walk the ramp for you someday, won't you Ciara?" Niall had to drop the shit here.

"Of course." I inch closer to him and whisper in his ear. "If you can afford me."

I step back and wink at him, whose lips are formed into a dirty smirk revealing a dimple on his left cheek. Interesting.

" Well, Excuse me gentlemen, I'm in a hurry. So I'll see you around sexy.. and you too Styles." I say and walk away still in amazement of his hidden personality..He should be a model...

(A.N. Hi guys! How are you all? Are you enjoying this story so far? I hope you do. :) If you like it then please do vote/comment/share my story... love you all :*   )