That Brunette And Me

Amelia just moved to Britain from a small town, after having a terrible relationship with a past boyfriend. She meets superstar Liam Payne, but can she get over heartbreak, the wrath of Directioners, and being in fame? Or will she break under the pressure?



99. Observe.

*Elle's POV*

I stepped off the airplane, my head spinning as I breathed in the fresh scents around me. People hustled and bustled around me, their mouths moving up and down as they rushed off the plane, looking for their ride to wherever they were off to. I, on the other hand, was in no hurry. I sat down in the airport cafeteria, watching the people around me, playing the game Niall and I had played those months ago, though it felt so long ago, like an eternity had passed.

And I supposed it had. Everything was so changed now. No more Europe, no more boyfriend, no more best friend, and most likely no modeling career. I was perfectly ruined.

I bought a green tea from the airport Starbucks, giving the employee a huge tip. It wasn't like I actually needed the money anyways. That inspired me to give more away, to the homeless outside of the airport. I flicked coins into hats, dollar bills into tin cans, using up almost all of the money that wasn't British currency.

I did have to save my twenty dollar bill, however, to pay the taxi driver for driving me to my destination. I wasn't going yet, though. I wanted to wait it out, extending my time at the airport as long as I could so if I changed my mind I could go back to Britain, back to everything I knew.

Yet, there I was, still playing that stupid game I'd made up.

There was a lady wearing a matching business suit, both black and white pinstripes. She carried a huge black suitcase with extra luggage on top. She had a Bluetooth in her ear, and was chatting away, looking extremely serious. She had dark rouge on, along with a maroon shade of lipstick and a light coat of mascara and brown eye shadow. Her eyebrows were perfectly stenciled, and she looked about thirty to forty. I knew straight away that she was on a work trip, and was immensely serious about her job. Not my kind of person, most definitely.

I moved on to the next person I saw; a young girl chatting animatedly to her mother, or so I guessed. She had on a pink t-shirt with a cupcake, the words 'Mom's Little-' stitched above the cupcake, to imply Mom's Little Cupcake. She was swinging her little pink rainboots back and forth in her chair, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and succeeding on getting it all over her face. Her mom spit on a napkin and wiped it off, kissing her forehead when she was finished. The girl just smiled, then looked straight at me. I was stunned a second, watching her smile, then continue talking. I looked away, onto the next person I'd focus on.

This one was a guy, a banner in hand, watching the doorway impatiently as he waited, probably for someone. I tried to read the banner, but he held it too firmly, so it was out of my view. My curiosity sparked as I watched the door, waiting for someone to burst through. I glanced from the door to the man, observing him. He wore regular, worn out jeans, and a button up white shirt that looked like it came right out of the dry cleaners. He wore the shirt tucked into his jeans, making it look more laid-back than formal. Suddenly, more people became streaming in behind him, patting his back and waving signs around. This time I got a glimpse of one. It read 'Welcome Home, Elizabeth!' He was more frequently watching his watch now, as a smile grew on everyones faces. Soon enough, the door was thrown open and a girl decked out in army-wear ran out, to everyone's immense happiness. Everyone was screaming, except for the guy. He was smiling, crying, and running straight for her. They met halfway, hugging and kissing, but by that time I'd turned away.

Tears made their way down my face as I stood up, tossing my empty Starbucks cup into a trash can. I brushed past the couple, smiling at them as they grinned at everyone walking by. I decided that it was time to leave the airport. I stepped outside, calling a taxi cab. I told him the place I was going, fingering the twenty in my hand. We zoomed down highways, rushed past a town or two, before we were in a very small town, which seemed to just sprout up in the middle of nowhere.

I watched as the houses went by, before we stopped right before one of them. I handed the taxi driver the twenty and stepped out of the car, walking up the sidewalk and up the steps. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. I looked around, not sure whether to smile or cry.

But still, it was good to be home.

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