Magic is in the air.


1. Mornings


Yellow light poured into my hotel room as the door was slowly prodded forwards. I saw a tall, skinny figure out of the corner of my eye. I already had an idea of who it was. The silhouette slowly moved towards my side of the bed. “Zoey. It’s time to get up.” Yep, that was Damien. I could tell from the way he drew out his vowels. Damien was my gay best friend. We had known each since the third grade when I had moved to my new school. Speaking of school, this is actually a school field trip. This year we had taken it to New York City.

“I’m already awake you twat.” I said rolling over so I was facing away from him.

“Now that’s not very nice to say to one of your best friends that is more like a brother if I do say so myself.” He said in a matter-of-fact way.

“If you mean by annoying me in ways no one else could even find possible, well then yes.” I felt the bed shake a little from his silent laughter.

“I know something that’ll get you out of bed then.” He said climbing up beside me. I was face to face with him, our noses almost touching. He put his hands on my shoulders. “PUSH!” I heard Damien yell as I was sent hurtling (well more like tumbling with all of the sheets and blankets I was tangled in) to the ground.

“Damien, you asshole.” I half scream half scolded him.

“I told you I knew a way to get you out of bed.” He said with a smile that lit up his whole face. “You do realize that we are going to be leaving in about half an hour, correct?”

“Oh shit!” I said and jumped up running to my dresser and pulling out what I thought would be a cute outfit when Damien came up behind me, took the clothes out of my hands and put them back in the dresser.

“That was not cute what so ever; those zebra striped leggings are in no way at all stylish in the wonderful city of New York.” He put his left hand on his hip and used his right hand to stroke his imaginary beard while looking through my clothes. Damien was quite the “fashionista” when it came down to picking out my outfits on field trips. Well, hell. It’s kind of like having my own stylist. I was driven from my mindless babbling when Damien handed me the outfit and said “Now go get ready, we have twenty-five minuets and we still have to eat breakfast so chop chop.”

I closed the bathroom door with my foot and held the clothes out in front of me. They did look a lot better than the zebra stripes. I put the clothes on the counter and started doing my make-up. When I was finished with that and getting dressed I put my dirty blond hair up into a messy bun. “Dayum, I’m looking might fine today.” I said without thinking.

“You should be, I did pick out what you’re wearing after all.”

“Oh shut that cock sucker of yours Damien, you’re just jealous of my body.” I said walking out of the bathroom.

“Oh yes, that’s exactly why.” He said, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm. He got up from the bed, grabbed a hold of my arm and pulled me out into the hallway. Pulling out my phone I checked the time; 7:20 A.M.

“Damien, what the hell it’s only 7:20 in the morning! Why are we even leaving this early?”

“Well if you don’t remember, Ms.Mcconell said that we had the day to ourselves and could pretty much do whatever we want, except drugs, she said ‘No drugs.’” It made me laugh at Damien’s failed attempt to mock our choir director. We made to the elevator and stepped in when the doors opened with the warning ding of a bell. In the elevator with us was the most gorgeous person I have ever seen. He had somewhat short blond hair, electric blue eyes and the cutest nose. 

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