Making Headlines
Chapter 3: Icing
December 21st 2012
7:58 pm
London, England
Emerson Gray
“No, put it up one branch,” Zayn directed. I moved the glass ornament up to the next branch on the tree. “No move it back.” I moved it back to the original branch. “No, move it up 2,” Zayn changed his mind. I turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, “Bro, why am I even decorating your tree. We aren’t gonna be here!” I put the ornament back in the box and walked over to the couch, sitting down next to him, getting comfortable in the plush cushions. He shrugged, looking thoughtfully at the now completely decorated tree, “I don’t know. I just feel like Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without waking up to see a tree,” He answered. I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant.
For me, it wasn’t Christmas if there weren’t cookies or a tree. I reached to the coffee table and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, tearing a little piece off and popping it in my mouth. “Have you ever thought of owning your own bakery? You are absolutely amazing at baking,” Zayn complimented. I nodded, “I had a savings account set up for buying my own little place somewhere in the city.”
“What happened to it?” He asked curiously. “When news broke of my dad’s Ponzi scheme, all the assets in my family were frozen, every cent just taken.” I shrugged and then shook my head, “Why does Harry hate me? Is it because of my father?” Zayn nodded hesitantly.
I sighed deeply. It was because of that particular reason that I resented my father’s actions. I always resented them, he took all that money from all those innocent, trusting people. But it affected me as well. And as selfish as it sounds, and it does sound quite selfish, I couldn’t help but feel…unwanted? I’ve never been the socially awkward one, or the outcast, but now that’s all I seem to be.
I sighed again and pushed my curly hair out of my eyes and shrugged another time, “Whatever. He knows I had nothing to do with that.”
“Harry’s a good guy, but once he’s in a certain mindset, he’s stuck there forever. He takes stubborn to a whole new level,” Zayn explained, picking up a red velvet cupcake from the plate next to the cookies. I nodded, “He seems like it.”
“These cupcakes are…fucking amazing,” Zayn gushed. “Oh, you got a little icing on your face,” I told them. “Where?” He asked. “Right there…” I trailed off grabbing his wrist and smushing the cupcake into his face with a laugh. He gasped, “You didn’t!”
I laughed again and nodded, “Oh I did.” Zayn’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Oh shit,” I mumbled and jumped up from my spot on the couch and ran away. Zayn and I ran in circles around the large living room in giggles.
I felt a weight land on my back, bringing me to the ground with an ooff. I rolled over and was greeted by Zayn, straddling my waist with two cupcakes that were dangerously close to my face. “Zayn Malik, don’t you dare,” I warned. Zayn raised an eyebrow and brought the cupcakes to my face, smearing the icing.
“Uggghhhh,” I groaned with a laugh. “Payback is sweet…literally,” Zayn giggled. I swiped some of the vanilla icing off my cheek and added it to Zayn’s already iced face. Through our giggles and chuckles Zayn spoke, “You have some icing on your face.”
His eyes never leaving mine, he bent his head towards mine. He stuck his tongue out and licked the icing off of my right cheek. “Eeeewwwwww!” I shrieked with a laugh.
For the first time in a long time, and though it been barely a day since I met him, I felt happy. I felt young again, I felt like everything was normal and okay in my world. “You’re gross, Malik,” I teased and pushed him off of me.
I stood and turned back towards him. He stood up and pressed a hand to his chest like he was hurt, “Oh Gray, how you wound me.” I rolled my eyes and laughed again, walking towards the bathroom. He followed me and we used towels and water to wash the icing off our faces.
I felt water splash my back. Confused, I turned from the towel rack and saw Zayn standing at the sink, whistling and inspecting his hair in the mirror. “I’ll get you, Malik. Just watch. I’ll get you,” I threatened as I retreated from the bathroom. I walked into the living room and took the large plate of cupcakes and cookies into the kitchen.
I turned on the water in the sink and waited for it to get hot while I placed all the dirty dishes in the sink. “What was it like—growing up rich?” Zayn asked, sitting at the breakfast bar in front of me. I furrowed my eyebrows. Zayn laughed, “I’ve always been curious as it what it’s like.”
I nodded, “Alright. Well, it’s nice, you know? Cause you have a lot of space and stuff. We went on vacations a lot. But when I got older my parents went on vacations by themselves so I had to stay home with Emmett and take care of him, not that I minded, because he and I were pretty close. A lot of people would think that rich kids just get spoiled and most do, but my parents never spoiled us. We had to work for everything we had.”
“Where did you guys go?” He asked. “Hawaii, Bahamas, Puerto Rico, pretty much every major city in Europe, Australia, and Aruba.”
“Damn, must be nice,” He chuckled. “It was. You should go sometime, Zayn Malik of One Direction.” I shut off the water and dried my hands, walking around the bar to sit next to him.
We sat and got to know each other even better. There was no one I really trusted anymore, but with Zayn, it was different. I could trust him and I haven’t been able to trust a person in a long time. After talking nonstop for 2 hours, I yawned and said I was headed off to bed. Wishing Zayn a goodnight, I walked into my room and tucked myself into bed quickly falling asleep.
***
The London air was cold. The sun shone bright but the wind blew a blistery cold. I walked quickly and with purpose to my car. Jumping in, I started it quickly and turned on the heat. I was suddenly thankful for the call I got from my boss earlier, informing me that I didn’t have to work today. When I arrived home I noticed my dad’s car in the garage. I crinkled my eyebrows in confusion, he was never home before 6 o’clock.
It was way too quiet. When I normally come home I’m greeted by music from the kitchen or my brother playing with his toys. “Mum? Emmett? I’m home!” I called. No one answered as I wandered through the kitchen and dining room. “Dad? Are you here?” I called out, again receiving no answer.
The quiet was begging to creep my out. As I walked into the living room the feeling disappeared and turned into complete horror. Blood was splattered on the white walls of the living room. It was dripping down the family portraits we had taken at each vacation spot. A strangled gasp escaped my throat as I saw my mother and little brother laying on the floor, blood still leaking out of their heads forming a puddle.
I dropped to my knees and crawled over to Emmett. “Emmett! Emmett, wake up. Please, please, wake up,” I pleaded. I touched his face but his skin was already cold. The sobs were becoming uncontrollable. I stood and wiped the blood off my hands, running to the house phone. I heard the clicking of a safety on a gun and an icy voice, “You take one more step and I will shoot you like I did them.” The voice was nothing like the warm, caring, and loving voice that normally spoke to me, the voice that usually comforted me, that coached me through driving lessons, that soothed me through my first heartbreak, that teased me after getting that really bad haircut. This voice was different, but yet completely the same.
“Dad,” I whispered. “What have you done,” My words were cut off by the cold gun being pressed to my temple. Everything about this was cold; his voice, the house, the feeling of the gun on my skin, my brother’s body, the tingle still lingering on my fingertips. “You-you don’t have to do this,” I bargained. “Yes, I do sweetie, I’m just protecting you, something I’ve been trying to do since the day you were born.” I didn’t say a word; I was too scared and confused to say anything. I acted on my instinct and ran to the phone. “I’m sorry,” and immediately, I heard a gunshot. I flinched, expecting to feel pain, but I felt nothing. I turned and saw more blood, my father’s body lying there, blood oozing from his bullet wound.
I jumped awake, out of breath, teary eyed, and sweaty; the images of my family still engrained in my head. I hopped out of bed and padded over to Zayn’s room where I shook his shoulder until he woke up, “Gray? Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“Zayn, I had a really bad dream. Can I sleep with you? I’m scared.” He heard the crack in my voice and lifted up the covers, inviting me into his bed. I crawled in, “I’m sorry, I’m just really scared, I can’t stop thinking about…” Zayn cut me off with shushing. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m here and you’re safe,” He began stroking my hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you, you’re safe here,” He didn’t finish his sentence before drifting off to sleep.
Zayn Jawaad
I knew it was way too early. I rolled over hoping to get at least an extra hour of sleep, when I bumped into something—or someone. I cracked my eyes open to see a fluff of Gray’s curly hair. Her face was snuggled into my side, her breath tickled my bare torso, and she was curled into a ball, the blankets up to her chin. I sighed as I watched her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breathing. It wasn’t anything of my concern, but I was insanely curious as to what her nightmare was about.
As I laid there staring at the ceiling, thinking about the past few weeks, I felt her stirring next to me. I looked down and met her hazel eyes with a smile, “Morning.” She groaned and rolled over, “Morning.”
“Did you sleep alright?” I asked as she sat up and stretched. “Yeah, uh, I’m really sorry about that, I just-“ I cut her off, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Her shoulders slumped slightly and she ran a hand through her unruly hair, “I’m going to get ready,” She whispered and left the room quickly. I sighed deeply and rubbed my face, why was she so closed off?
I rolled my eyes at myself, why wouldn’t she be closed off? With everything she went through, I’d be worried if she wasn’t surrounded by walls a hundred feet high. I caught myself wondering if I could be that person to knock down those walls, but quickly swatted the idea away. She isn’t some broken toy that needs fixing, she’s a human.
To distract myself from all the Gray related thoughts, I turned my music on high and turned on the shower, getting ready for the day.
***
“So,” Gray began, once we were in the car and headed out of the city, “I thought your family didn’t celebrate Christmas.” I shook my head, “Technically, we don’t. But with my work being how it is, it was easier for everyone if we celebrated our holiday over the Christmas break. It doesn’t really matter, so long as I have my time with my family, I’m happy,” I answered. “Your family is important to you, huh?” She asked. I nodded quickly, “The most important thing to me. My family is my everything. It took me a while to reach that point, I had always taken them for granted.”
“I know the feeling,” She commented. I looked over at her, watching her stare out the window as the city of London zoomed past. Though it was obvious what was running through her head, I wished I could hear her thoughts. “You’re a really interesting person, Emerson.”
“Oh? And why’s that?” She asked quietly. I shrugged, “You’re like a closed book. People are either open or easy to read and you’re neither. I just find it interesting how I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”
“I always used to be easy to read, I’d show my emotions in my face, no matter what I did. At least that’s what my mother used to say. I dunno, I guess after everything I just…closed myself off from the rest of the world. Didn’t want to get hurt again,” She explained. I found it hard to keep my eyes on the road, wanting desperately to look at her. “Why did your parents let me come to your house for the holiday?”
“No one deserves to be a lone on Christmas,” I explained. “Not even me?” She questioned so quietly I could barely hear her. “Especially not you. My family isn’t really big on judging someone for their past or blaming someone for another’s wrong doing,” I said. “Harry is,” She muttered. “He’ll come around. I promise,” I said, looking over at her. She met my eyes quickly before looking back out the window, “Yeah. They always do,” She whispered softly, not expecting me to hear.
I left it at that, not wanting to upset her. A few minutes later she fell asleep, snoring ever so softly with her forehead resting on the window. I let out a deep breath and leaned my head back against the head rest. I couldn’t think of another person who captured my attention as much as she had. I had noticed it at the mall first. She was standing at the small stand in the middle of the corridor buying hot chocolate.
Her curly brown hair and hazel eyes were familiar to me, as if I had seen them somewhere, but I couldn’t place where. I watched as she smiled very slightly and thanked the cashier. Watching her walk through the food court, weaving in and out of the tables was something interesting as well. It was almost as if she cringed away from the people around her, like she wanted to curl into the fetal position and never move. Her eyes were wide and I remember thinking she had to at least be 24. Though she carried herself like a nervous adolescent, her face seemed to look older, wiser, maybe.
I knew at that moment I had to approach her. I was too captivated to not talk to her. With my head down I walked toward her table. It was generally easy for me to go about in London. I hardly had problems getting mobbed by fans, and while I loved them with all my heart, I was grateful for being able to go on with my business.
As I neared her table, I saw a chain on the floor. I bent to pick it up and surveyed it in my hand. It was silver and cold, a diamond heart dangling from the chain. I continued to her table, holding my excuse for talking to this girl. I watched as her hazel eyes, showing no emotion, fill with gratitude and relief. I sat down and started talking, not really knowing what I was doing until she said her name.
And I knew. The second her unique, beautiful name rolled off her full lips, I knew. The headlines came rushing back, all the reports and news and stories, her name, her dad’s name, her conditions, everything came back. I knew. I knew, and yet, I stayed. There was just something about her. I wasn’t sure if it was her soft voice, her unruly hair, her deep eyes, her rare smile, or her gorgeous laugh, but I knew that the longer I stayed, the more involved I got, the more the two of us would be making headlines.
7:58 pm
London, England
Emerson Gray
“No, put it up one branch,” Zayn directed. I moved the glass ornament up to the next branch on the tree. “No move it back.” I moved it back to the original branch. “No, move it up 2,” Zayn changed his mind. I turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, “Bro, why am I even decorating your tree. We aren’t gonna be here!” I put the ornament back in the box and walked over to the couch, sitting down next to him, getting comfortable in the plush cushions. He shrugged, looking thoughtfully at the now completely decorated tree, “I don’t know. I just feel like Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without waking up to see a tree,” He answered. I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant.
For me, it wasn’t Christmas if there weren’t cookies or a tree. I reached to the coffee table and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, tearing a little piece off and popping it in my mouth. “Have you ever thought of owning your own bakery? You are absolutely amazing at baking,” Zayn complimented. I nodded, “I had a savings account set up for buying my own little place somewhere in the city.”
“What happened to it?” He asked curiously. “When news broke of my dad’s Ponzi scheme, all the assets in my family were frozen, every cent just taken.” I shrugged and then shook my head, “Why does Harry hate me? Is it because of my father?” Zayn nodded hesitantly.
I sighed deeply. It was because of that particular reason that I resented my father’s actions. I always resented them, he took all that money from all those innocent, trusting people. But it affected me as well. And as selfish as it sounds, and it does sound quite selfish, I couldn’t help but feel…unwanted? I’ve never been the socially awkward one, or the outcast, but now that’s all I seem to be.
I sighed again and pushed my curly hair out of my eyes and shrugged another time, “Whatever. He knows I had nothing to do with that.”
“Harry’s a good guy, but once he’s in a certain mindset, he’s stuck there forever. He takes stubborn to a whole new level,” Zayn explained, picking up a red velvet cupcake from the plate next to the cookies. I nodded, “He seems like it.”
“These cupcakes are…fucking amazing,” Zayn gushed. “Oh, you got a little icing on your face,” I told them. “Where?” He asked. “Right there…” I trailed off grabbing his wrist and smushing the cupcake into his face with a laugh. He gasped, “You didn’t!”
I laughed again and nodded, “Oh I did.” Zayn’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Oh shit,” I mumbled and jumped up from my spot on the couch and ran away. Zayn and I ran in circles around the large living room in giggles.
I felt a weight land on my back, bringing me to the ground with an ooff. I rolled over and was greeted by Zayn, straddling my waist with two cupcakes that were dangerously close to my face. “Zayn Malik, don’t you dare,” I warned. Zayn raised an eyebrow and brought the cupcakes to my face, smearing the icing.
“Uggghhhh,” I groaned with a laugh. “Payback is sweet…literally,” Zayn giggled. I swiped some of the vanilla icing off my cheek and added it to Zayn’s already iced face. Through our giggles and chuckles Zayn spoke, “You have some icing on your face.”
His eyes never leaving mine, he bent his head towards mine. He stuck his tongue out and licked the icing off of my right cheek. “Eeeewwwwww!” I shrieked with a laugh.
For the first time in a long time, and though it been barely a day since I met him, I felt happy. I felt young again, I felt like everything was normal and okay in my world. “You’re gross, Malik,” I teased and pushed him off of me.
I stood and turned back towards him. He stood up and pressed a hand to his chest like he was hurt, “Oh Gray, how you wound me.” I rolled my eyes and laughed again, walking towards the bathroom. He followed me and we used towels and water to wash the icing off our faces.
I felt water splash my back. Confused, I turned from the towel rack and saw Zayn standing at the sink, whistling and inspecting his hair in the mirror. “I’ll get you, Malik. Just watch. I’ll get you,” I threatened as I retreated from the bathroom. I walked into the living room and took the large plate of cupcakes and cookies into the kitchen.
I turned on the water in the sink and waited for it to get hot while I placed all the dirty dishes in the sink. “What was it like—growing up rich?” Zayn asked, sitting at the breakfast bar in front of me. I furrowed my eyebrows. Zayn laughed, “I’ve always been curious as it what it’s like.”
I nodded, “Alright. Well, it’s nice, you know? Cause you have a lot of space and stuff. We went on vacations a lot. But when I got older my parents went on vacations by themselves so I had to stay home with Emmett and take care of him, not that I minded, because he and I were pretty close. A lot of people would think that rich kids just get spoiled and most do, but my parents never spoiled us. We had to work for everything we had.”
“Where did you guys go?” He asked. “Hawaii, Bahamas, Puerto Rico, pretty much every major city in Europe, Australia, and Aruba.”
“Damn, must be nice,” He chuckled. “It was. You should go sometime, Zayn Malik of One Direction.” I shut off the water and dried my hands, walking around the bar to sit next to him.
We sat and got to know each other even better. There was no one I really trusted anymore, but with Zayn, it was different. I could trust him and I haven’t been able to trust a person in a long time. After talking nonstop for 2 hours, I yawned and said I was headed off to bed. Wishing Zayn a goodnight, I walked into my room and tucked myself into bed quickly falling asleep.
***
The London air was cold. The sun shone bright but the wind blew a blistery cold. I walked quickly and with purpose to my car. Jumping in, I started it quickly and turned on the heat. I was suddenly thankful for the call I got from my boss earlier, informing me that I didn’t have to work today. When I arrived home I noticed my dad’s car in the garage. I crinkled my eyebrows in confusion, he was never home before 6 o’clock.
It was way too quiet. When I normally come home I’m greeted by music from the kitchen or my brother playing with his toys. “Mum? Emmett? I’m home!” I called. No one answered as I wandered through the kitchen and dining room. “Dad? Are you here?” I called out, again receiving no answer.
The quiet was begging to creep my out. As I walked into the living room the feeling disappeared and turned into complete horror. Blood was splattered on the white walls of the living room. It was dripping down the family portraits we had taken at each vacation spot. A strangled gasp escaped my throat as I saw my mother and little brother laying on the floor, blood still leaking out of their heads forming a puddle.
I dropped to my knees and crawled over to Emmett. “Emmett! Emmett, wake up. Please, please, wake up,” I pleaded. I touched his face but his skin was already cold. The sobs were becoming uncontrollable. I stood and wiped the blood off my hands, running to the house phone. I heard the clicking of a safety on a gun and an icy voice, “You take one more step and I will shoot you like I did them.” The voice was nothing like the warm, caring, and loving voice that normally spoke to me, the voice that usually comforted me, that coached me through driving lessons, that soothed me through my first heartbreak, that teased me after getting that really bad haircut. This voice was different, but yet completely the same.
“Dad,” I whispered. “What have you done,” My words were cut off by the cold gun being pressed to my temple. Everything about this was cold; his voice, the house, the feeling of the gun on my skin, my brother’s body, the tingle still lingering on my fingertips. “You-you don’t have to do this,” I bargained. “Yes, I do sweetie, I’m just protecting you, something I’ve been trying to do since the day you were born.” I didn’t say a word; I was too scared and confused to say anything. I acted on my instinct and ran to the phone. “I’m sorry,” and immediately, I heard a gunshot. I flinched, expecting to feel pain, but I felt nothing. I turned and saw more blood, my father’s body lying there, blood oozing from his bullet wound.
I jumped awake, out of breath, teary eyed, and sweaty; the images of my family still engrained in my head. I hopped out of bed and padded over to Zayn’s room where I shook his shoulder until he woke up, “Gray? Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“Zayn, I had a really bad dream. Can I sleep with you? I’m scared.” He heard the crack in my voice and lifted up the covers, inviting me into his bed. I crawled in, “I’m sorry, I’m just really scared, I can’t stop thinking about…” Zayn cut me off with shushing. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m here and you’re safe,” He began stroking my hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you, you’re safe here,” He didn’t finish his sentence before drifting off to sleep.
Zayn Jawaad
I knew it was way too early. I rolled over hoping to get at least an extra hour of sleep, when I bumped into something—or someone. I cracked my eyes open to see a fluff of Gray’s curly hair. Her face was snuggled into my side, her breath tickled my bare torso, and she was curled into a ball, the blankets up to her chin. I sighed as I watched her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breathing. It wasn’t anything of my concern, but I was insanely curious as to what her nightmare was about.
As I laid there staring at the ceiling, thinking about the past few weeks, I felt her stirring next to me. I looked down and met her hazel eyes with a smile, “Morning.” She groaned and rolled over, “Morning.”
“Did you sleep alright?” I asked as she sat up and stretched. “Yeah, uh, I’m really sorry about that, I just-“ I cut her off, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Her shoulders slumped slightly and she ran a hand through her unruly hair, “I’m going to get ready,” She whispered and left the room quickly. I sighed deeply and rubbed my face, why was she so closed off?
I rolled my eyes at myself, why wouldn’t she be closed off? With everything she went through, I’d be worried if she wasn’t surrounded by walls a hundred feet high. I caught myself wondering if I could be that person to knock down those walls, but quickly swatted the idea away. She isn’t some broken toy that needs fixing, she’s a human.
To distract myself from all the Gray related thoughts, I turned my music on high and turned on the shower, getting ready for the day.
***
“So,” Gray began, once we were in the car and headed out of the city, “I thought your family didn’t celebrate Christmas.” I shook my head, “Technically, we don’t. But with my work being how it is, it was easier for everyone if we celebrated our holiday over the Christmas break. It doesn’t really matter, so long as I have my time with my family, I’m happy,” I answered. “Your family is important to you, huh?” She asked. I nodded quickly, “The most important thing to me. My family is my everything. It took me a while to reach that point, I had always taken them for granted.”
“I know the feeling,” She commented. I looked over at her, watching her stare out the window as the city of London zoomed past. Though it was obvious what was running through her head, I wished I could hear her thoughts. “You’re a really interesting person, Emerson.”
“Oh? And why’s that?” She asked quietly. I shrugged, “You’re like a closed book. People are either open or easy to read and you’re neither. I just find it interesting how I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”
“I always used to be easy to read, I’d show my emotions in my face, no matter what I did. At least that’s what my mother used to say. I dunno, I guess after everything I just…closed myself off from the rest of the world. Didn’t want to get hurt again,” She explained. I found it hard to keep my eyes on the road, wanting desperately to look at her. “Why did your parents let me come to your house for the holiday?”
“No one deserves to be a lone on Christmas,” I explained. “Not even me?” She questioned so quietly I could barely hear her. “Especially not you. My family isn’t really big on judging someone for their past or blaming someone for another’s wrong doing,” I said. “Harry is,” She muttered. “He’ll come around. I promise,” I said, looking over at her. She met my eyes quickly before looking back out the window, “Yeah. They always do,” She whispered softly, not expecting me to hear.
I left it at that, not wanting to upset her. A few minutes later she fell asleep, snoring ever so softly with her forehead resting on the window. I let out a deep breath and leaned my head back against the head rest. I couldn’t think of another person who captured my attention as much as she had. I had noticed it at the mall first. She was standing at the small stand in the middle of the corridor buying hot chocolate.
Her curly brown hair and hazel eyes were familiar to me, as if I had seen them somewhere, but I couldn’t place where. I watched as she smiled very slightly and thanked the cashier. Watching her walk through the food court, weaving in and out of the tables was something interesting as well. It was almost as if she cringed away from the people around her, like she wanted to curl into the fetal position and never move. Her eyes were wide and I remember thinking she had to at least be 24. Though she carried herself like a nervous adolescent, her face seemed to look older, wiser, maybe.
I knew at that moment I had to approach her. I was too captivated to not talk to her. With my head down I walked toward her table. It was generally easy for me to go about in London. I hardly had problems getting mobbed by fans, and while I loved them with all my heart, I was grateful for being able to go on with my business.
As I neared her table, I saw a chain on the floor. I bent to pick it up and surveyed it in my hand. It was silver and cold, a diamond heart dangling from the chain. I continued to her table, holding my excuse for talking to this girl. I watched as her hazel eyes, showing no emotion, fill with gratitude and relief. I sat down and started talking, not really knowing what I was doing until she said her name.
And I knew. The second her unique, beautiful name rolled off her full lips, I knew. The headlines came rushing back, all the reports and news and stories, her name, her dad’s name, her conditions, everything came back. I knew. I knew, and yet, I stayed. There was just something about her. I wasn’t sure if it was her soft voice, her unruly hair, her deep eyes, her rare smile, or her gorgeous laugh, but I knew that the longer I stayed, the more involved I got, the more the two of us would be making headlines.
10/9/13