Chapter Six - Collide
My mother was a petite woman, at the age of thirteen I was already almost a head taller than her. That gives you an idea, especially since I wasn't the tallest human being on the planet. Three years on from that, she only reached up to my shoulders. I took most of my looks from her; hence my brown hair, but our personalites clashed. She was bubbly and sociable, she encouraged me to go out and make friends, she enjoyed company. I was the complete opposite of her. I was more like my dad: I preferred being with a small group of people, rather than a whole room full. I found comfort in things I was used to. I didn't like change.
The only looks that inherited from him were my eyes. They were green.
My mother was currently ransacking my wardrobe. It was proving to be an almost impossible task, due to my clothing being made up of jeans and tops. I had been pacing around my bedroom for two hours, frantically trying to find something suitable to wear. She eventually started to pity me and decided that it was a good idea to help me.
I was sitting on my bed, watching her.
"Okay, Alex," she said, emerging from the pile of clothes that had formed around us. She was grinning enthusiastically. "What about this?"
She pulled out a floral sundress. I had to restrain myself from cringing. I had never worn the thing in my life. When I received it as a present all those years ago, I immediately buried it at the back of my closet, hoping that I would never see it again. Thinking back, I should have probably burned it instead. Destroyed the evidence.
I shook my head at my mother.
Her lips twitched as her smile faltered. "It was worth a shot. Anyway, you'll like this."
She held up a grey top and a pair of black jeans. They weren't made out of the usual denim, but this smooth type of material, almost like fake leather.
I grinned.
"I knew you'd like it," she smiled triumphantly.
In her early years, my mother used to work up the fashion and makeup world. This meant she had lots of knowledge and I was constantly showered with beauty products, all of them piled up around my bathroom sink. The majority unopened.
After I changed into the clothes, with extreme difficulty, she sat me down on my bed and began to expertly apply the makeup to my face. She didn't trust me to do it myself. Fair enough. I wouldn't have trusted myself either.
In the end, I had to compromise and wear a pair of heels. It was okay though, it wasn't the first time I had been forced to wear some.
"Done," she said as she finished applying mascara to my eyelashes. "Blink very slowly."
"Thanks Mum."
She wordlessly pulled me into a motherly hug. The sound of a car horn pierced through the quiet night air.
I quickly ran down the stairs, taking two at a time.
~
"Please shut up, Luke."
Luke was singing loudly to the radio, adding in extra dance moves when we stopped at each traffic light. Every single freaking one. And there were a lot.
The drivers who made the unfortunate mistake of glancing into the car were often too stunned to look away. I didn't blame them. And when they saw me sitting there with a straight face, massaging the temples of my forehead, they gave me an apologetic look. It was as if they could feel my pain.
"Keep your eyes on the road, or I swear I will murder you," I hissed to Luke.
He pumped a fist into the air just to irritate me even more. "I'm just getting into the party mood," he complained, sticking his tongue out. He was wearing a black t-shirt which had the words If You're Not a Unicorn, I Don't Like You printed on it. That just about summed up his personality.
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The Undercover Bad Boy
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