lucidity | shyland ✓

one

chapter one

drifting off to sleep is never a problem for me. only for those who have issues, and the only issue i have is that gucci aren't selling the suit i wanted. it's fine, though – i'm getting the one harry styles' wore at his stockholm concert. custom and tailor made for my size, sleeves cut sharp and legs snugly fitting.

at school, some people call me stuck up and spoilt, but that's only those who aren't as fortunate as me. especially this one group, lead by a blonde haired boy. their clothes are all oversized and clearly second hand, bought from goodwill or walmart. i think he's called george, or gary, i'm not sure. his name is pretty irrelevant anyway.

oh, i remember now. garrett. he always wears this dirty brown jacket and these geeky black glasses which make him look like harry potter. a boy with long, dark, greasy hair follows him round, too, and they always look at me like i'm poisonous or have a disease.

the look is always returned, the feeling always mutual.

i don't need approval from a bunch of poor, council estate kids, anyway. my friends are all wealthy, good looking and dress well, like myself. there's no need to integrate with boys like garrett watts, or any of his fellow associates for that matter. it was unnecessary.

my eyes narrowed as i looked into the mirror, flicking over my small stature. clad in all calvin klein, i wore high waisted, pale blue jeans and a white t shirt tucked in, along with a pair of new black zolah shoes. the brands i wore had to co-ordinate with loren's style, because if they didn't, all hell would be let loose.

some of the clothes i liked, sure, but believe me when i tell you that weekends have become my favourite time, just by the singular fact that i can do whatever i want. i don't have to worry about keeping up my family's reputation, or ensuring that my girlfriend is content. i liked to curl up in my king sized bed, plump pillows beneath my head, cashmere blanket engulfing me, and watch netflix whilst eating whatever food in the house our caterers would make.

i stared out the window of my bedroom, vision landing on loren's petite figure, leant against the side of my convertible black audi. i cringed, imagining all the damage and deciding that the only way to protect my precious baby was to get my girlfriend away from it.

pulling my phone off it's charger, i ran down the stairs and grabbed my bag from the hook, slamming the door shut behind me. the electric gates automatically opened, my feet slapped against the cool pavement whilst i tapped away on my phone. like this, comment on that, follow back a few people before bracing myself with a smile.

'hey gorgeous.' loren smiled as i spoke, pressing her lips onto mine. a grey, t-shirt style bodycon dress clung to her stick like figure, hip bones digging into the fabric, boobs spilling out the top. she had paired it with wedged heels and a leather jacket, and i had to hold myself back from telling her it would've looked so much better with denim.

boyfriends were not supposed to say things like that. they were supposed to say how hot their girlfriend looks, how beautiful and perfect she is, how he doesn't know if he'll be able to keep his hands of her if she dresses like that.

i am perfectly capable of keeping my hands in the pockets of my jeans at all times, actually. we hadn't even gotten to that stage yet, despite the both of us being sixteen and in our last year of high school. my dad suggested that i ask her out when she came round for dinner in ninth grade, and we'd been together ever since. i don't remember my teenage life without loren. the memories of walking around school relaxed, or wearing whatever i liked whenever i liked were irreconcilable in comparison to how i live now.

i did not mind the fact that loren and i had done nothing intimate together, nor did i mind that we were not planning to any time soon. we both had strict christian values; we would wait until marriage, when we were both settled and content with each other. this sucked, sometimes, when i would hear boys at school talking about sex or how far they went with a girl the latter night, but i brushed it off. i believed in doing the right, expectable thing.