Faking Nerd

Pre-meeting

Eric Stratford. That little fucker.

There are not enough curse words in this world to show how much I loathe him.

I stared at the blue dress that my mother laid out on my bed. It was pretty, too pretty. It's beautiful light blue colour and it's adorning patterns will only go to waste to Eric Stratford.

I hopelessly sighed as I picked it up by its hem, "Eric does not deserve you," I remarked, looking upon the garment with pity.

I applied a light amount of makeup and quickly did my hair, tying it into a low bun, before slipping into the dress. Once I was contented with my reflection in the mirror, I put on one of my beige loboutins and grabbed a brown Givenchy bag from my closet.

Don't get me wrong, I have absolutely zero adoration for designer clothes and labeled bags, but the Olivia Ainsley the world knows does, and I can't do anything but comply with that.

I exited my room, securely locking it, before I progressed towards the stairs. As I descended down the steps, Mum comes at me with a huge tight smile on her face. "Oh look at you! You look absolutely stunning. I knew a Zuhair Murad would fit you well," she commented, pride engulfing her at the very moment.

My face was drawn to a blankless expression despite the abundance of compliments thrown at my feet, "Please, please tell me why I have to go meet with that idiot?" I moaned in despair as I reached the ground floor.

"Because, my darling daughter, we need to tease the press, throw them off scent of what's to come," she answers as she fixes my hair. I started to become suffocated by her long fingers poking here and there in my natural hair.

"Why, what are you guys planning? What's gonna happen?" I said, intrigued by her ominous response as a foreshadowing sensation creeps up my spine.

"Nothing you should worry about," she smiles as she takes one final glance at my whole outfit. "I'm just glad that you're so keen on seeing him again, meet him at 1:30 at the Dorchester."

I looked at the huge clock across the room and saw that the small hand was still on 12.

"Ew, I'm like an hour early," I whispered to myself, my mouth bending upside down into a frown.

"Well, I advise that you go now, Olivia. You wouldn't want to be late for Eric," She says pleasantly as she ushers me towards the front door.

"Uh, yes. Yes I do want to be late," I muttered, giving her a screwface as I was forced out of my own house.

"Just some pictures today, that's all," she quietly mumbled beneath her unbreakable tight smile. "Take your convertible," she says as she practically pushes me off the front step.

I rolled my eyes as I glanced back, catching a glimpse of her hurriedly shutting the door. Just some pictures, Olivia. Just a few smiles here and there. I chanted in my head as I scavenge for the keys to my BMW. Once I finally found the blue and white keychain, the garage opened, revealing the red sleek convertible, my baby.

It's no Ferrari or Lamborghini, I know, but it was the first car that I bought with my own money. I got it a few months after I turned sixteen, I managed to save up the money from the photo-shoots I had to endure. Yes, I resorted to modelling. The sacrifices I made only strengthens my bond with this car right here.

I slipped into the driver's seat, settling on the leather and checked the mirrors for safety measures. Give me a break, I'm still sixteen, i'm still a noob at this.

I rest both of my hands on the steering wheel and slouched. It's still so early...

I visualised the map of London in my head, browsing for places I could go to. Maybe I'd go shopping and just wander around in Oxford Street or Harrods..