*This will probably be short because it's the first chapter and I suck heh*
|Jacquelyn|
Jacquelyn awoke to the sound of people talking, construction taking place outside her building, and of course New York City traffic. It was nothing but the ordinary for the nineteen year old girl, but never had it been something she appreciated. She groaned and proceeded to get dressed, as she could not afford to be late for class. As a young child Jacquelyn wanted to be a princess, a typical pursuit any young girl would try to obtain. Now as the years have passed, Jacquelyn has found a more realistic pursuit. Thus last year when she auditioned for The American Musical and Dramatic Academy (AMDA) and got accepted, she was ecstatic. She would not be a princess, but a ballerina is just as close.
Jacquelyn raced to get ready and pack her bag for her classes, as well as tame the monstrous state her hair has awoken in. Luckily she managed to do so, and even managed some spare time so she didn't have to hurry to get to the subway.
She walked out of her apartment, and stopped at the coffee cart outside her house, saying good morning to the elderly man who served her every morning. She walked down the street, occasionally pulling off a ballet move once in a while. Yet she was not ashamed, for she loved to dance and simply did not give a crap who took notice to it.
Passing familiar streets and alleyways something managed to catch Jacquelyn's eyes. A beautiful and elaborate mural stopped her right in her tracks. "Wow," she whispered under her breath. She checked her phone for the time, but not before taking a picture of the mural. It was not huge, but was still impressive to say the least. In both size, and skill. The mural was of a woman, her skin was a dark blue, but her complexion was still soft, and there was a lot of detail to the background as well. Jacquelyn was completely supportive of any art, and was incredibly fascinated by drawings, paintings, and sculptures. As much as she would like to stare at the painting all day she knew she had to go to class.
She entered the room, and put on her slippers. She did warm-ups until the instructor arrived. Her instructor was a lady named Miriam who was in her late thirties. She was rather grumpy at times but none the less a great mentor. "Ladies we will start preparing for the winter showcase. And I've decided to spread the holiday cheer by allowing you to vote on what dance you shall perform. Your options are, the nutcracker or the 12 days of Christmas," the instructor said before taking a sip of her coffee. Immediately Jacquelyn was ecstatic about both and had not but the slightest clue on which she would decide to vote for.
A long day of classes, and of course sore feet were now at an end, and Jacquelyn could finally go home. Two subway stops later and she was walking back to her apartment building. The wind in the crispy autumn atmosphere was soothing as Jacquelyn loved this season. She was almost home when she once again saw the mural she had admired earlier in the day. It was harder to view in the dark, but soon lights above it turned on and lit the whole thing up again. She smiled as she viewed the beauty of the mural she for some reason really liked. "You like the mural?" A male voice came into range behind her. "Yes it's amazing. Why, you don't like it?" She turned around and faced the stranger. He was a young man, brown hair, hazel eyes, and a thick British accent. To say he was attractive was an understatement. "No I'm just asking because I know the artist," he said to her, a small smile creeping up onto his face. "Please let him know he's very talented. I really admire this," she made a hand gesture towards the wall.
Suddenly the boy started to chuckle. "What?" She asked confused at the humorous reaction the boy had given. "What could possibly be funny about what I just said?" She asked once more. The boy stopped laughing, but his smile never faded. "Nothing I just couldn't hold it in. But I should let you know that I painted this," he spoke. "So I assumed. Well you are very talented Mr- um I don't know your name," she blushed. "It's Zayn, Zayn Malik," the boy with the British accent replied. "And yours is?" He asked. "My name is Jacquelyn, Jacquelyn Gourdes," she answered. "Are you a big fan of art?" Zayn asked before turning back to his mural to fix something. "I am actually. And I'm currently studying in the field of performing arts," Jacquelyn said quite proudly. "Let me guess, you're a dancer?" Zayn kept his attention focused on the mural. Jacquelyn scrunched her face in surprise. "How can you tell?" she asked curiously. "The your slippers are falling out of your bag," he chuckled as he turned to see the blank look on Jacquelyn's face. "Don't worry I'm not psychic, just an artist," he winked at her. Jaquelyn felt her face was heating up and took the chance to escape before Zayn noticed her blushing.
"Well Zayn, your work is beautiful, but so is my bed so I should take off," Zayn smiled as he watched the short brunette walk away. "Hey Jacquelyn," he called out when she was almost out of sight. "Yes?" she called back, her bright smile visible through the dark streets."When will I see you again?" She bit her lip as she thought of a witty response. "Well if you keep painting so close to my apartment, probably soon". He wasn't expecting that response. Back at home if Zayn asked that to any other girl, they would at least give him their number. But Zayn instead laughed at Jacquelyn's response, and continued painting.
