Sister Styles

{11} The Truth

The continuous sound of my alarm from my phone rang off in my ear. I woke up, realizing it wasn't my alarm but the sound of someone calling me. I slid the arrow across the screen, my eyes still squinting to open, and pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice sore and raspy just like every other morning. I pushed myself up to a sitting position then tried looking for a clock but there was none in sight.

"Is this Lillian Styles?" The voice of who I didn't recognize spoke on the other line.

I finally blinked my eyes to adjust the lighting, finding myself in Payton's room with him sound asleep on the bed. "Yes, it is. May I ask who's calling?" I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, dangling them while I sat there. Payton stirred behind me.

"This is Daniel Whitmer, head choreographer of One Direction," he said, and I sat up paying a little more attention. "I was calling to let you know that someone will be at the train station to pick you up from London tomorrow morning at ten."

With my brain still waking up, I was quite confused at the words he was saying and was wondering if I may have heard him wrong. "I'm sorry, but I wasn't the one you chose from Miss Suzie's studio. I got your letter yesterday."

"Well, it seems that the winner, Ms. Delilah Hould could not make it on tour because her father was just admitted to the hospital for cancer and she wants to be there for him everyday," he said, disappointed. "You were the runner up from Miss Suzie's."

I was still confused. Delilah didn't have a dad. Yes, she did at one point and yes, he did have cancer but he passed away just last year. She lied? Why would she do that?

"Are you still there, Miss?"

I looked back over my shoulder at Payton who was now sleeping with his back towards me. I turned back towards the window. "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all. It's just," I paused, standing and walking towards the window. I peeked outside to see the piles and piles of snow covering the ground. "I can't wait to be working with you."

-----

"She lied?" Payton looked at me, pouring me another cup of tea. "Delilah? She's one of the most honest people I've ever met, why would she lie?"

"That's what I want to know," I said, taking a sip of my tea. "I deleted her number a while ago. You don't still have it, do you?"

Delilah and Payton dated way back in senior year. They dated for about five months until she couldn't 'handle the relationship' because of her father's cancer, and they broke up. They still talked and remained friends for a little while but it eventually faded away. They were probably my favorites together out of all the girls Payton's dated.

Payton pursed his lips then retrieved his phone from his pocket. The screen brightened his face and he scrolled and tapped on the screen. "No, I must've deleted it after we stopped talking." He tells me, tucking it back.

I sighed. It was only eight o'clock in the morning. I don't know why we're awake so early but after that call, I couldn't fall back asleep. Since Payton has troubles sleeping at times, he ended up waking up about a half hour later and just joined me in the kitchen. We've been awake for almost an hour and I'm starving.

"I'm hungry," I said aloud.

Payton pointed over his shoulder while taking a drink of his coffee with the other hand.

"Help yourself," he insisted.

I stood from the bar stool, walking around the island. I stood in front of the pantry, gazing over the massive amount of food Payton and his dad have. Payton's parents split up when he was fourteen. After his mum moved out, he and his dad weren't on the same page about things anymore, and now they don't get along. I guess they don't really eat together anymore, which kind of makes me sad at heart. I never realized how much food they have together. Payton and I usually hangout at my flat; it's been months since I was last over here. I decided to pull a bag of bagels of the shelf. I opened the mahogney cupboard, and pulled out a plate. I put a bagel in the toaster and prepared for the pop while grabbing butter and a knife.