Stylish
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- Parts 1
~"Happy birthday, Allie," He whispers, having to lean down to murmur into my ear. That's right, it was my birthday a few days ago. The day after the accident.
"I swear we were the same height when I last saw you," I step back, looking up at him. "And you were definitely not this good looking."
"Um, two things. You're a midget… And I've always been hot," He grins, flashing off white teeth that contrast with his olive skin. I've got to stop thinking about colours… I blame my photography.
"Um, two things," I mimic him sassily. "I am 5"6, average height and I'm so much hotter than you!"
"Nuh-uh!" He sticks his nose up in the air, holding back laughter.
"Uh-huh!" I shoot back childishly.
"Now, now, children. Don't make us regret making Zayn your guardian," My Pakistani uncle grins at us, arm around his wife's waist.
"I can't believe I have to live with that!" Zayn points at me and whines. He's joking, trust me. It was his choice as well as mine.~
Allie Rose's parents were killed in a major car crash. A drunk driver smashed into her parents car, killing them instantly.
Allie is sent to live with her Uncle and Aunt, with their son Zayn. With Zayn being part of One Direction, Allie doesn't go un-noticed. He is her legal guardian, her only being 17.
Through twists and turns, hate and love, life and death - well maybe that's a tad dramatic - will Allie find herself falling for a certain Stylish boy named Harry Styles?
Find out in Stylish.
~*~*~*~*~
© 2013 MaddyJennie
All Rights Reserved
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He always assumes I want money. That money can replace my desire for a mother, for a female figure who will guide me through the darkness. All he can provide is money. He assumes that because I use the money, that I'm happy, that I don't spend night hunched over my toilet bowl physically sick to my stomach with the guilt of killing my mother. He assumes that because I have friends, that the smile on my face is genuine. That because I smile and confidently stride out of my room in a bikini, that I love myself and the way I look. He assumes everything about me, because he doesn't know me. I'm his daughter, and with the simple fact, he assumes that by just looking at me he knows my every thought. Does he know of the blood I spill when I have no other method of coping? Does he know of the times I sit and ponder about what it would be like to go through death? Does he know that when he leaves for work, I cry myself to sleep and wish for a mother? Does he know that I could care less about him? I hate him. But he loves me. Does he know, that through all this mess, I just want a mother. Because according to Disney, mother knows best?
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