vegas | H.S.

p a r k e d i n s u l t s

a/n: the picture above is what the characters will be wearing. the chosen mystery woman is candice swanepoel. totally gorgeous, right? happy reading - dani xo

c h a p t e r s e v e n 

This was a dreadful solution to my nibbling envy. Out of all the things that I could of done, this was not my best decision.

There is no doubt that Liam will find out about this; he has been calling me the moment he figured I would arrive home. I ignored the attempts, suspecting exactly what he would bicker with me about. I'm even conducting a civil discussion in my thoughts as of now.

It sounds undeniably stupid that I would even follow through with this, but I couldn't help but hear what he would say. A decent human being would not say such a confession that night in my apartment without feeling something.

Vegas, you are crazy.. Bloody crazy, at that.

As the swift winds of winter whistled amongst the trees, my neck sunk lower into my wool scarf, the surface of the material rubbing against my chilling cheeks.

Mr. Horan would of never allowed me to miss another day of work. To solve the begging question, I texted Harry to meet me in the later hours of the night. Even if I'm missing out on my daily Netflix session.

I prepared for his words, something along the lines of a simple explanation.

My mother has always suggested that sitting down on a brisk night is never a intelligent recommendation, but as my legs go weak from the cold, it seems acceptable to me.

In the distance of the local city park, there are a tripod of terrifying shadows. The luminary reflection of the moon's light isn't helping the effort to recognize the figures, but from what I can see, they don't appear to be Harry.

Fixated on fear, my knees buckled when I found the courage to stand. I prepared myself for a fleeting exit, but a female voice startled my actions.

She cracked the dead silence of night, occupying my attention.

Once she was in the view of the eye, I instantly recognized her as the despicable woman that kissed Harry. I laced my expression with anger, hearing the timed pace of her steps.

"Are you Vegas Blacke?" The blonde strands from what I could detect in the limited amount of exposure were securely tightened into a ponytail, the moonlight emphasizing the structured perfections of her jaw and adoring cheekbones.

My throat tightened with envy, her meek fur coat warming her upper half.

"Y-yes. Why?"

Her eyes glared at me like bullets, causing me to second guess my question. Her clicking steps circling around me as if she was a eagle scooping for the perfect time to prowl on its prey. A small collection of giggles, facets of insults mumbled under her covered breathes.

"You are nothing but a chubby waste of time," She struck, her words stinging only seconds later when I realized her comments.

"E-excuse me?"

"How could anyone even find you the least bit of attractive?" Her laughs of mockery were seeping into my ears, echoing and flashing memories of similar childhood experiences. The taunting was torture as a child.

My hands dug deeper into my shallow pockets, the toes that were cuddled inside of my wool socks shaking and wiggling with the uncomfortable words being said.

"Why are you even here?" I remember texting Harry's phone, not this woman. I'm pretty sure I don't even know who she is.

"That information does not concern you, peasant," She hissed, her frame halting front and center.