"You look so pretty with your make-up all done up like that." a high-pitched, mocking voice interrupted yet another nightmare, the reoccuring subject, Sir Deliquent himself, or formally known as Harry Styles.
Instantly I opened my sleepless eyes, blinded by the daylight streaming in from the windows. My pillow is covered in tear stains and smudges of my make-up I hadn't taken off the night before, my unruly blonde hair in a sweaty tangle.
Just great.
I located the inhibitor of the annoying, nasaly voice. Standing in the center of the room, fully dressed was my "new bestfriend", or I guess my roomate.
Tall and statuesque, she had wavy dark brown hair, hitting right below the collarbones. Only by being in the same room as her I instantly took a hit on my self-esteem.
No, please no.
My begging did shit. A hot rash began crawling up my neck, deciding to end at the top of my forehead.
I probably look like a tomato. Hopefully she likes tomatoes, hah yeahhh.
"It's time for breakfeast." the striking brunette rolled her eyes and flipped her silky hair.
A classic highschool-self-absorbed-drama-inducer, well I guess I'm screwed for eternity.
"Amber Dill, a bitch you don't want to mess with." with another toss of her hair, she added "Oh, and I don't care who you are or what your whole "problem" is, just stay out of my way."
I widened my eyes, frantic for oxygen to supply my heaving lungs. Why does this girl intimidate me, make me feel so small and worthless? She's just a person, well a prettier than average, rude obnoxious person. But...
Why?
I stared at her fluent body as she crossed the small space to the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Dear god, please help me survive this crazy bitch.
~~~
Breakfeast and lunch consisted of my sneaking off to a secluded area south of the cafeteria, or more widely known as the soft patch of grass behind the dumpsters.
Maybe it's part of the whole introverted thing I'm going through, but I hate eating in front of other people, as in despise with my whole being. It's just...awkward. So many people watching you scarf down a whole piece of pizza, sauce splattered all over your face. How embarrassing. That's probably not the only reason, I hadn't technically made any friends yet, so I didn't really wanna have to deal with the crap of finding a place to sit in the crowded lunchroom.
Yup, totally apart of my whole introverted thing.
Don't get me wrong, I love to eat. As in eating would be my favorite past-time, unless you could count that as a full on job type of thing, it'd definitely be my career choice.
I've heard that's a sign of depression, a strong passion for food, but I don't really give a fuck. Maybe depression can take it's place on my other hip, accompanying fear.
~~~
Today has been better than my arrival to this magical place, as Harry Styles would put it, and much, much worse.
Goddamnit, I can't stop thinking about that flawless...beautiful...dazzling...yet mysterious and somehow dangerous...shit. That needs to stop, like right now.
It was better because I shared a near minute long conversation on my way to the bathroom, without my face turning a blotchy red.
This is basically how the conversation went:
