Covered ~ Hemmings

Three

- Three -

*whistle*

“Good morning, Izzy! Why don’t I pick you up around 10? :-)”

Izzy? Nobody called me Izzy before and I was not sure I liked it. I thought I could give it a try just because he was cute and I was not going to be rude and ask him not to call me that way. Why was I overthinking the whole nickname thing when I should have been answering his text?

"Sure, that sounds great. Good morning, btw x" I quickly replied.

“I’m gonna need your address :-P.” I facepalmed myself and sent him my address right away to which he replied: “Cool, see you x.”

“Fuck! I gotta get ready,” I said to a sleeping Amy. An earthquake could have been taking place in the city and she wouldn’t even flinch. This girl is unbelievable.

I got off bed and almost tripped with my shoes. “Fuck,” I muttered kicking the Vans as I took off my shirt and headed to the bathroom. If there is one good thing about having parents who have high positions in companies is the fact that they could afford a house big enough for me to have a private bathroom. The hot water against my skin felt so good in that really cold morning. As soon as I was finished, I woke Amy up by throwing a couple of random objects on her head.

“Amy! Come on! You have to help me out with my outfit”, I yelled as I opened the wardrobe. It was chilly outside so I was going to wear a jumper or a sweater and a big coat. Luke could be cute but that didn’t mean I was going to freeze to death for a guy I had just met. Besides, I’ve got a thing for sweaters. Michael called it an obsession. He didn’t know what he was saying. Poor boy.

Without opening her eyes, she moved her finger aimlessly pointing to what she thought was the wardrobe and said: “The black skinny jeans, the ones that are a bit ripped. Then, the H knitted sweater, the black boots with the studs and…”, she yawned. “The blue coat, the hooded one”.

“Thank you, my own little Rachel Zoe. Really, you could be a great stylist, even with your eyes closed”, I attempted a joke that was obviously not funny. I always do that.

“What time?” she mumbled against the pillow. After so many years of dealing with this snorlax-ish girl, I figured she meant what time we were going to meet.

“10”, I answered while I was buttoning my jeans.

“It’s 9.40, love. Hurry”, she said and yawned again.

“Shit!” I put on a white tee and my sweater. Then, I did my makeup. A bit of concealer, some mascara and a bit of colour on my lips. “Lock the door on your way out. Would you?” I said while grabbing my crossbody bag. It was black and it had little studs and it was so cute. I mean, punk rock. It was very punk rock. Yeah. My hair was in a ponytail because I didn’t have much time to braid it or like brush it.

“Sure” she responded and continued sleeping.