Himecut قصص

"He's just autotune and a leather jacket." That's what I said before I was shoved into a stadium full of screaming pre-teens. I'm Rine. I have a hime-cut, thick glasses, and a life plan that involves zero boy bands. First, Graduate. Second, Read every depressing book in the London Library. And the last one, Stay 500 yards away from anything that breathes and autotune. I hate CROWDS. I hate SOCIAL. I'd rather swallow a box of thumbtacks than listen to One Direction. But thanks to my best friend Jane's obsession. I'm stuck here. Front row. Directly in the blast zone of the light and everything and enough glitter to choke a horse. Then he looks at me. Zayn Malik. The moody one. The one the world orbits around. I'm staying in the dark. He's determined to be the loudest noise I've ever heard. (And by 'noise,' I mean those high notes. Ugh.)