Outcasts

New York's Fashion Week Part 1

Amelia; Sophie Turner

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ALLISON

"Is she mean to you?" Nestor asked tentatively. Not wanting to give much away, he had had, after all, promised to keep the secret.

Allison huffed audibly, unable to express her seemingly infinite dislike she felt towards Chelsea Brooks in the proper scale she wanted to.

It seemed impossible to her to recount her cousin how many times Chelsea had taunted, mocked, catcalled, embarrassed, humiliated her since sophomore year, how many tears she'd managed to draw out of Allison.

"Let's just say she's been my personal tormentor alongside Georgina for a few years now. She's in her clique so she's meant to torture me by default. An automatically professed enemy. I mean, I have personal issues with G, but Chelsea...she's a crux or a burden. She, I cannot stand."

Allison dunk her cinnamon roll into her cocoa cup, sighing deeply as if trying to get rid of some of god-awful memories.

She shook her head and aimed for more suitable talk.

"My friend, Amelia, has a runway show tomorrow, some high-regarded SoHo store. Want to drive me? Bastian is kind of scary as a driver."

"I'm not sure, with my job and all."

Nestor smiled, nodding twice as Bastian appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"What-" yawn. "-are you-"yawn. "-guys doing?" another yawn.

He sat in a stool and took the dunked roll from Allison before she even ate it.

"Hey, I was planning on eating that!"

"Take another then," he tried to shrugged it off.

After a bite, she took it back and stuffed it all in her mouth.

Bastian and Nestor guffawed d at her face. "Chipmunk." Bastian said, making her giggle.

"Don't mess with my cinnamon rolls,"

CHELSEA

She closed her door as carefully as she could, praying to God her father wasn't home, and if he was that he was asleep already.

Please, please, please, don't let him be awake.

She didn't want to remember, not tonight. Not tonight that it'd been a good day, which resulted nice for a change.

That Nestor guy was nice with her, without asking anything back. Like the other guys she had been with.

Give and give, but not with him.

It was give and take.

Her muscles were sore, she realized this as she stretched out her arms to grip the railing of the stairs.

"Chelsea."

There, she was screwed. Her father had called out for her.

She walked with her head bowed, her shoulders sagged, to her father's study.

The door was slighlty open, a beam of light casted on the floor.

She lingered outside, debating what could possibly be worst.

To ditch him and lock herself in her room or to go and stay with Georgina?

A loud snore startled her, making her frown in bewilderment.