|Why am I so stupid?
Author: gunner-girl PM
I was raised in this wealthy apartment building. From when I was 5, until now, Mrs. Roseman raised me. I remember when I would walk back to the highway and find the closest mile marker. On Friday nights I would call my buddies, and tell them to pull over at 12:00 am, mile marker 126. I would walk back there and wait for the hour to come. Then we would go party all night.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Tragedy - Words: 1,250 - Published: 10-25-12 - id: 3068600
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I was raised in this wealthy apartment building. From when I was 5, until now. Mrs. Roseman raised me. She's the head-master of this building. And she only had 5 renters. I was the only one on the third floor. Everyone seemed to want to me towards the bottom. I guess closer top their car or something. But that didn't matter to me, I was just happy. My mother, and father were (are) addicted to meth. And were not proper guardians, so I was sent to live with Mrs. Roseman. A kindly, fresh old woman. Always smelling of the kitchen and roses. It was just a small thing I always noticed when I was around her. She was satisfying to be around, and it was like you could tell her anything, anywhere, anyhow. The apartment is located right outside of New York city. Right where the country sets in, and living ten minutes from the city was just the most convenient thing. It is slightly quieter, and just the comforting honking of horns, and sirens reminded you that you were safe. A straight root into down town allowed you to leave for work just fifteen minutes before the desired time!
I crouch my legs against my chest, and rest my chin on my hands. I gaze out the bathroom window. The faint sound of rushing cars in hearing distance lulling my comfort. I look back at the fields, and looking far enough, but close if you think about it, I see the busy highway. Just beyond a tree line, and thru one or two corn fields, there lay my past. I remember when I would walk back there and find the closest mile marker. On Friday nights I would call my buddies, and tell them to pull over at 12:00 am, mile marker 126. I would walk back there and wait for the hour to come. When they picked me up, we would go venture into the city and party all night. It was always a dreamy night, Friday nights.
I work down town, I am the new model for Dior, making my way to the top of the pecking order. I also play in professional concerto's. I play cello, and audition for orchestras in the Summer. Making it into them, I get first or second chair. And at the concerts, merely pleasing the tourists.
"Josie? Is your apartment clean? We have some movers coming in, their going to be going thru the hallways, and I think we better please their eyes!" Mrs. Roseman "informs" me from below the pine staircase. I stand up, groaning, and brush small crumbs from my black leggings, with see thru flower and floral designs on them. Then her speech hits me. Movers? Someone would be moving into the third floor of this building? Holy burger, this was special. No more "leaving the door open" thru the day for me I guess.
"Movers? Who's moving?" I ask, walking into my bedroom, and plucking bras, and other lingerie lying around from the floor. I hear a small chuckle,
"Funny really, I don't quite know. Young folks, boys." She says, not too happy. Boys eh? I don't reply, not really seeing the purpose in it. And just merely engulfed in thought. "I'll check your apartment tonight. Better be decent!" She says loudly walking off. I hum to myself, and make my bed. Pulling the fluffy black down blanket to the foot of the bed, and straightening things up. I turn the lamp off, and walk to my kitchen. I throw some day old orange peels into the silver and black trash can right outside of the open doorway to the kitchen, and that just about cleaned the kitchen. I never really messed up the kitchen much. I didn't eat much anyway. Can of beans, order of pizza, pasta. Easy things!
I slam the bottom of my hand on the off button, and quirk my eyes open. Morning sunrise rushes thru the rectangular window above my bed rest. I stretch my legs, still under my covers, and satisfy my eyes by rubbing them. I lean against the white wall, and sigh. Slumping my shoulders, I climb out of bed and walk out. My pajamas smoothly, and warmly brushing against my legs and arms. I grab a glass of milk from my fridge, and take a sip. It tasted good, cool and thick. I take another gulf of it, and set down the cup. I go back to my room, and fall down on my bed, sleeping for another five or ten minutes- scratch that- for another hour would you say. Today was my day off. Why the hell was my alarm clock on….Mrs. Roseman!
I jerk awake at hearing boxes and voices outside of the hall. This time I get up, excited to see who the new movers where. I walk to my dresser, and search my closet.
"Get up!" Mrs. Roseman yells, just as I open another drawer. I am up…. How she got on my nerves,
"I AM up!" I say, annoyed at her cheery voice so early in the morning. Well…11:00 am. I get some acid washed ripped jeans, tight and comfy, and a see thru silky white blouse. Like you would see some rich bitch wearing, lounging with a wine cup in her hand. I got it from work. I walk to my personal bathroom, big bathtub, and large mirror just cheering my attitude! I grab my brush from a basket on a rack to the left of the sink, and brush my already knotted wavy blonde hair. I bring it to one side, and French fishtai9l braid it, all the way until the end of my wispy hair. I barest it with a felted flower on top, and pat it a couple times. Turning my head. Fine! Just dandy! I walk to my doorway, hunger not even etching at the sides of my stomach. I see Mrs. Roseman humming as she places a few towels on her arm. When she sees me, she beams with a large smile, and then touched her earring, like I was going to like the look of- And at that, a boy, 5 foot 9 or so, maybe taller or shorter walks out. Curly brown hair, bright smile, and looked just so sexy in those kaki shorts. And was just like…I stare, and stare. Wide eyes piercing his body, my mouth drops open a little. My pink lips just slightly curved into a smile. He was just like-
"Hello" He says to me. I don't respond. That just did it. I was going to be NEIGHBORS with One Direction. That British accent, and that curly hair. I look at Mrs. Roseman, and she smiles, and then walks down the stairs. Why?! Why did she leave me with Harry! Then Louis walks out. My mouth drops even lower. She chuckles,
"I guess your our new neighbor?" He says, taking a step towards me, and reaching his hand out for a shake. One second later, I finally snap out of it, and stutter.
"Uh-I…yeah-yes" I say, eyes still wide. I shake his hand lightly, and then glance back at Harry. He shakes my hand too. And glances back at- ZAYNE walking out of a doorway. My breath catches in my throat. Zayne-
"How-why?" I say, smiling, pointing at them. "Why did you-" I finally bubble over with excitement, "Your fucking ONE DIRECTION?!" I scream, covering my mouth afterwards.