Epilogue

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Perrie sits on the uncomfortable stool at the end of the bar, her bright blue eyes scanning the club, she feels tingles inside her head. It's as if she's not alone, as if someone is calling her name from afar. She knows this is completely stupid though, considering the fact that she's in a room filled with random drunk people who know nothing about her; she's just moved here. Still, the creepy, erratic feeling keeps nagging at her.

She's sorrounded by sweaty bodies dancing against each other to the blaring music that rattles the floor, the coloured lights piercing through the atmosphere thick with the stinging scent of alcohol and smoke. Perrie sighs, giving up her pointless search. She's just going insane. Or maybe she's just tired of searching for that certain someone.

Perrie would have been lying if she said her heart hadn't leaped when Jesy had told her about moving to New York. And no, it wasn't because she knew a certain brunette lived here.... well, at least not entirely. The blonde had always been intrigued by "the Big Apple", the architectural marvel with plenty of historic monuments, magnificent buildings and countless dazzling skyscrapers.

In 21 years of miserable existance, she had tried to find that somebody who had abandoned her, leaving her in the dark with nothing but memories, a handful of horrifying memories. There are often times where Perrie finds herself thinking about the brown-eyed, tanned beauty. There are times at night where she swears she can feel Jade's soft lips pressed against her jawline, making her jolt out of her sleep, confused. There are times where she promises herself she will forget about Jade, but then every little thing she does or sees reminds her of the older girl and promises are costantly broken.

By the time Perrie remembers about the nights spent thinking about Jade, her hand is gripping the glass of coke so tight that it might broke. But she doesn't really care, in fact, she doesn't even notice the tears travelling down her rose-tinted cheeks. She just gets up and sighs, not even waiting for Jesy, heading out of the club and calling a taxi.

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Jade loved living in New York City. There was always something to do, entertainment to suit every taste and age. There was always a shop open somewhere, always a taxi to catch. She could see a play or go to a movie, or sit in the park behind the library. She could find a cafe and read, or she could shop, which was one of her biggest weaknesses. Walking down the streets she could hear people taking different languages and accents mixing with the noise of the traffic. Others had complained about the costant hum of the city, but she liked leaving her window open at night and hearing it. She liked knowing so many people were so close by, living all hours of the day and night.

New York was home, but it didn't feel like home. Whenever her flat felt too small or the memories were pressing in, she would wander the streets, sometimes to the Empire State building, or to the library or the park, somewhere where she could relax and study the city and its people.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Jade would let her mind wander, and she'd unsurprisingly find herself thinking about the ivory skinned beauty.

Sometimes, just sometimes she could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks, and she would bury her face into her pillow, as she cried because how could she be so stupid to let Perrie go? It was a question that had often touched Jade's mind.

She had promised herself not to think about the younger girl again, but that night, like many other times, there was something in her that badly wanted to taste Perrie's lips again, even for a brief time. But another part of her was afraid. She was partly afraid because all these memories suddendly hitting her felt like punches in the face. But one thing she didn't understand was that she was afraid of Perrie forgetting her; she felt her stomach churn just at the thought of Perrie kissing someone else's lips. It's your fault! Her subconcious would often yell at her, crossing its arms and shaking its head.

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