Picture Imperfect (Niall Horan)

17 - Cassie

*****IMPORTANT*****

The song for this chapter is "Already Gone" by Kelly Clarkson. It's important because it's this chapter in a song basically.  The lyric video from YouTube is on the side, I suggest you watch it. :)

17 – Cassie

The front door slammed shut behind me, obnoxiously letting Angie know I was home. “Why is Dad’s car parked in the driveway?” I ask her when I enter the kitchen, the one place I know I can find her.

“He’s upstairs sleeping.”

“What?” I gape. “But Dad is never home before seven. Ever.”

She sighs and stops chopping the onion. “He lost a patient today, Cassie. She was in a car accident. He had been in surgery for fifteen hours before they lost her.”

“Oh my God,” I gasp, a hand over my mouth. My Dad is a wonderful doctor and doesn’t lose patients often, but when he does, it hurts him. Really bad. He is so kind and thoughtful and generous and he doesn’t like it when people die. I know, you might say if he doesn’t like death then he shouldn’t have become a surgeon, but he did it to save people. I know that he has saved more people than he has lost. “How old was she?”

“Fifteen,” Angie says, her eyes brimming with tears. Mine are too. It’s just horrible to think something like that. I don’t know the girl, I don’t even know what she looks like, but it’s still upsetting.

“How is he doing?” I ask her.

“Not okay,” she answers. “He came home and went straight up to bed. I would just let him sleep.” She looks beyond exhausted, the bags under her eyes revealing how much sleep she isn’t getting.

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she sighs, giving me a sleepy smile. “Just in need of a small nap.”

“Well why don’t you go off to bed?” I encourage her.

“I have a bake sale tomorrow, I have to get these cookies frosted and then—”

“Angie, Angie. It’s fine,” I assure her, “I’ll do it. Go get some rest, you need it. I know you and Dad are under some stress right now. Please? Go to bed. I know how to frost the cookies. You’ve shown me like a million times.”

“Okay,” she chuckles and I give her a hug before sending her off to bed.

Once she’s gone I take the cookies off the cookie sheet and bring them over onto the island. I retrieve the frosting from the pantry and then empty it into a quart-sized Ziplock bag. Next, I clip one of the corner edges of the bag, therefore making a homemade frosting dispenser.  I carefully frost the cookies. It’s silent in the house, so I am left alone with my thoughts.

It seems lately I have been spending more time with Niall than I have with my boyfriend. Isn’t Zayn the one I’m supposed to call when I have nothing to do? Niall and I have been spending a lot of time together; the hilltop, and just today when we went for coffee. He seems to actually want to get to know me, instead of just make out with me, like Zayn.

I’m not saying that Zayn is a bad person, or that he is using me. All I can think about though is that Zayn has never made an effort to get to know me like Niall has. I care about Zayn—of course I do—but if we are going to be in a serious relationship then he better start acting like he wants one, and not just a girl to make out with. When I think of Zayn just asking me out because he is alone, I don’t get upset as the next person would.

When Zayn asked me out—or when I asked him out—I was just glad someone liked me. Everyone that I have ever liked never truly liked me for me, if they showed any interest in me at all. I guess the only reason I wanted to be with Zayn was because he showed an interest in me. Usually it’s the other way around, resulting in me not even getting a chance to be with the boy I like. Now, I’m not the kind of girl that will go out with anyone who likes her, but I suppose Zayn used his charm on me. He is one of the most attractive people I have ever seen and is most certainly the best kisser I have known.