When a teenager finds out her mother is a part of a corrupted organization, her senior year collapses. Her mother's arrival to town sheds blood, sparks up new conspiracies and puts her on the edge of danger. However, with faith playing its tricks on...
My backyard is kind of plain, as my grandma didn't exactly spend time here; a grill and some lawn chairs sprinkled on the cemented deck, a few tables situated in the moist grass. My legs sink into the soft earth due to the rain, toes curling into the grass as I make my way to my favorite spot. There's this large tree that has really pretty flowers in the spring and thick branches. I had always been more into the shade the tree provided and how it blocked me from the view of the house so if I wanted a nice, quiet place where I didn't want to be disturbed, I had one.
Although I have only a few memories around this backyard, I love it nonetheless. It hasn't been but only a year since we've moved here, also, 3 months since I changed yet another high school. It indeed isn't as bad as the old one, however, I don't feel hundred percent comfortable in its atmosphere and people. When am I ever satisfied around anything or anyone? Never.
After inhaling the soft winter breeze and settle down, I begin to sketch an outline of a face in my notebook, surrounded by a blanket since it always gets colder at night. I feel better. Warmer. So, I let my hands draw the words and pictures in my mind before I process them myself. No thinking, just drawing.
I sketch the eyes first, smooth yet plump lips, shadowed dimples, a devious smirk, and a contoured nose using my black pencil. Lines intersect, no shadow too defined. My hands move too fast, my eyes shifting left and right comprehending the face I'm trying so hard to shed light on with my various colors.
I immediately go for green, filling in the eyes. Brown for the chestnut hair. Rosy pink for the lips.
My heart does a jump when I suddenly hear a noise somewhere that just interrupted my drawing, making my head turn towards it. From my line of vision and above our tall, wooden fences, I catch the familiar curls peeking through.
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I roll my eyes humorously, unwrapping the blanket from my body and staring down at the portrayal before getting up. Hurriedly shutting the sketchbook closed, I clasp the tiny lock it has on then make my way towards the fences.
"Well, hello to you too."
I snort, still ignoring him but making my way towards the backdoor of the garden in order to let him in.
"Hello, Styles." I smirk.
"Good evening, sweetheart." He greets again from behind, following me to my earlier spot.
When he plops down beside me, I move my things away and dropping the blanket on both of us.
"So, I see you were painting some stuff, eh?" Harry smiles sheepishly at me after inspecting the mess on the grass beside us.
I reply, "Yeah, it's a bit peaceful around this time."
He nods in agreement, turning his head away. "I haven't seen you around much lately."
