I Won't Let You Go (Conor Maynard)

CHAPTER THREE; YOU'RE MY BITCH/Freya

“Dad!” I yell down the stairs. “Can you drive me to downtown today?”

“Why do you need to go there?” my dad asks doubtfully.

I sigh. He’s always fucking suspicious. I don’t get it, when the truth after all is that he doesn’t care. Actually all he cares about is that I act like a normal person and stay out of trouble. “I’m meeting my friend down there”, I say and quickly glance at my cell phone’s screen, smiling. The wallpaper is a picture of me and Conor, the one I took of us with his phone after shooting Vegas Girl. I was so happy when the next day he sent it to me.

“When do you need to go there?” my dad shouted back to me.

“Well, we planned to meet each other in two hours or something like that.”

“Okay, I think I can do that. At least you don’t need to use the bus…”

“Thanks, dad”, I say and run back to my room. I feel happy yet quite pissed at dad, though. I hate it when he says stuff like “at least you don’t need to use the bus”. He think it’s not a suitable vehicle to use for someone rich and shit like us. Like if there’s honestly something wrong with buses.

Suddenly my phone starts ringing and I see Conor calling me.

“Hii”, I answer.

“Hey”, says Conor and I can hear him smiling. “So you can make it today?”

“Yeah, I even got my dad to drive me there.”

“Nicee. I’ll see you then in few hours”, he says.

“Don’t be late!” I laugh.

“Oh, I think we should be more worried about you being in time.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever… But see you then!”

“Dress something pretty”, Conor says quickly before he ends the call.

I frown, confused. What did he mean by saying that? Oh well… if that was what he wishes for I could as well do that. I walk up to my wardrobe and start searching for some clothes. It really takes me over thirty minutes to find a perfect outfit but eventually it is done, anyhow. A white tube top, floral shorts and black Dr. Martens’ military boots. I also get a black knit garment just in case it would cool down later today. I pack the knit garment in my bag with my purse, sunglasses and umbrella. Next I go to put some make up on my face to look decent. I don’t want to wear anything too heavy; just some foundation, powder, mascara, a little bit of eyeliner and lip balm. My hair looks okay so I leave it like that, not bothering to straighten it or anything.

All of a sudden my phone starts ringing again, playing Bonkers by Dizzee Rascal. A little part of me kind of wishes for it to be Conor (I know, it doesn’t make any sense) but unfortunately it’s not. It’s my best friend, Skye.

“What”, I answer the phone.

“So I was just wondering what you doing today?”

“Why?”

“Noah’s throwing a party tonight and I have absolutely nothing to wear! I need you to come shopping with me. Oh and of course you’re also invited and people are assuming you’re coming, too”, she explains.

“Sorry, I can’t”, I say apologetically.

“What’d you mean, you can’t? It’s Saturday, c’mon what the fuck could be more important?”

“I’ve already made some plans, I’m sorry.”

“Like what?”

I sigh. “I’m going to hang with Conor today and shit.”