Kiss and Tell

Emily just thought she was going to your average One Direction concert.
Emily just thought wrong.

Emily's 18, and when she and her best friend Jenny turn up to a 1D concert to find it's cancelled, they aren't pleased. All too fast, they're sharing a hotel with the boys, and Jenny's changed. Drastically. They discover parites, clubs, drugs and fame. Jenny's going off the rails, hitting headlines for the wrong reasons, though she's not the only one making mistakes. Emily gets pregnant, oblivious to who the father is. Let's just remember not all stories have a happy ending, and where there's love, there's drugs, and where there's drugs, there's guns..


18. The Punch


I rub my bare stomach, hands cupping what will soon be a baby.

Harry's baby.

I don't even know what to think about it all. The door clicks open, Jenny's curved figure leaning against the doorframe.

My jaw tightens.

"Harry knows," I say. "He knows what you said was a lie."

She shrugs, smirking.

"The others don't. They believe every. little. word."

God, I want to punch her friggin little face in.

I glower at her.

"I don't care," I lie, pressing the words out. I push myself to my feet. "I don't give a bloody damn! Tell them I'm dead for crying out loud! Let them believe that too!"

I steady myself against the bedroom wall.

Breathe, I tell myself. Jenny cackles.

"Maybe one day, that won't be a rumour at all," she grins.

I look up at her. What?

"Are you saying you want to kill me, Miss McGuire?" My teeth are crunching.

She admires her newly manicured nails, not answering my question.

"You've changed a lot," I say. "Remember a couple months ago? We were best friends, joined at the hip. But were we? Or were you just faking it like you fake everything else?! Hm?!"

I punch the bed mattress. "I thought we were actually friends. Why can't we just be what we used to be? Best friends?"

My voice drowns in tears. For a minute, her eyes are fogged with memory, a look of sadness and rememberance falls across her face. But then it's gone.

"It's your fault we are how we are," She spits, shrugging. "It's all your fault. And by the way, babe, lay off the cookies."

She winks, nodding towards my stomach. I still haven't told her. Four months left. Four months till I'm a mum.

"Shut the hell up, Jen."

"Make me."

So I do. I punch her in her friggin face.

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