Over Again

I'm Miranda, an art colledge student, living in London with a fairly average lifestyle. That is, until I meet a few colourful characters that pull me from the streets into the limelight where unfortunately, I will never ever be forgotten.


2. Chapter Two

This chapter is dedicated to Lion of the Valley xx I'm super sorry that I couldn't make it to your fashion show!!!! I'll make it up to you! ;) anyways....hope ye guys like!!! can ye spread the word for me please? keep up the comments, favourites, likes and reading!! :)

I rub my temples gently at the increasing pain in my head, I lean against the cold metal railing to the balcony we share with the neighbours. I notice one of our neighbour's door creak open and out comes Andrew, our neighbour. He rubs his hungover face sleepily, he looks like a zombie! They all got really drunk in our flat last night, he's only wearing long surfing shorts that you'd wear to a beach even though we'rein the middle of London where the closest thing you have to a beach is the sand you buy to put in your kid's sand box and thats in packets. He's wearing flipflops to make himself look like a right wacko, he does know we're in England right? And that it rains nearly everyday? I supress a chuckle and sigh loudly, leaning my whole weight against the metal railing. He glances up slowly but its quick to him as he's experiencing a massive head-cracking hangover. He didn't notice me there until I sighed, he squints at me from under his eyebrows. The sun has suddenly been magnified by 100 now that he has a hangover, to me its just shocking that the sun would come out considering this is London and London is a part of England, wet soddy Enlgand. He tries to smile but it spreads across his face meakly, I excuse myself to save him the hassle of appearing alright, oh he's far from alright and he knows it. I smile and take off towards the heavy glass door leading to the hallway for our flats,

Off to work, g'luck Andrew.

His meak grin spreads across his features one last time before I shut the glass door and walk off, just when he pulls a fag and lighter out of his surifing shorts pocket. I trudge down the apartment block stairs barely able to carry my own weight, I stumble down a few more steps before safely landing on the bottom step. I push down the switch so I can get out the massive bolted glass doors that are the main doors to the building. Its suprising really how this place is practically a slum yet they have high-tec security system mounted, a very puzzling question that I don't spend long thinking about everyday. I guess it just doesn't concern me, I guess it should considering that I'm living here but I'm paying the rent and thats all that matters. I shake my head and close the heavy door, already shivering from the cold British winds that can cut through your teeth. I guess thats just a saying, I don't know but its certainly not exaggerating what the cold weather actually is like here, its bleeding freezing!

I walk down the street in the direction that I take public transport with. I walk down the usual five blocks before walking down the subway's concrete steps. I check my watch and make sure I have caught the right one before taking the step from the platform onto the boarding subway. I decide to stand considering that its easier to get off and the only seat is next to a ragged looking smelly man. I shudder and turn in the opposite direction, gripping the leather straps that are hanging from the ceiling that are placed there for standing commuters. I glance around at the different commuters on the subway this odd afternoon, there's a business man wearing a tight beige suit who looks like he's going to jump off the train if it doesn't move soon, there's the ragged guy who I'm sure is homeless the poor thing. There's other people here but none worth grabbing my attention. I hold the strap tighter in my palm as the intercom tells us that its leaving soon, after another five minutes of the annoying voice repeating for people to stand clear of the platform, the subway takes off.

I hop out at my stop and quickly jump up the concrete steps of intercity London, so desperate for air that I practically take two steps at a time. I quickly get to ground level and take a big gulp of London's polluted, damp air. English air is practically always damp, considering its raining more than half the time. I take the short way to the street and end up getting there at five past two, not bad considering I was taking my time. I set up my art and pretend to fix it as snobby buyers walk straight by, I hate the customers that look interested and then walk away like whats up with that? I squint up at the sunny sky, grey clouds are looming over the sky nearby, I curse myself for not checking the weather, sure I never do anyways. I shrug and end up crouching near one of my latest paintings, brushing my fingertips along the smooth canvas, tracing over the emerald eyes of the muse in the painting. I continue staring at one of my most beautiful paintings, many people have tried buying it off me before but I always refused, its too preciosu to me but after a long talk with Katie and a delightful helping of Ben and Jerrys, we both agreed that selling this painting would prove I have gotten over Harry.

I continue brushing the soft canvas, tracing my fingers over the detailed curls, how did I capture his beauty so well in just a painting? I twitch and awkwardly sit up when I hear a young voice cough, catching my attention. I smile at the young shopper,

Is that for sale?

The young teenager points at my favourite painting, I gulp begging god to make her a Drectionater and ask to burn it instead of buying it. I know I say I'm over Harry but there's a part of me that fell for his chrams and good looks. I decide that Katie is right, the only way is getting over him and not looking back. I nod at the now anxious teenager who starts jumping up and down, wild with excitement. She carefully turns the painting around to chek for a price, her eyes widen as she carefully places the painting down, my painting.

Is that all?

I nod silently biting my lip, my head repeating the same words over again, dont buy it dont buy it dont buy it. But of course she's a Directioner, like every other derranged teenager on the planet from the age five and up, the boys have used their charm to work their way up. Don't get me wrong, when Harry and I were dating and he took me to meet them for the first time, I nearly hopped in Liam's pants! And he has a girlfriend! They are all just so charming and seducing, I think thats why Harry was a little wary of bringing me with him to meet them after that but I got along well with Perrie, Danielle and Eleanor. They're all really nice girls and totally deserve the boys! Before I know it, I'm gone off into one of my stupid little rants about it, trying to block out all the personal emotions behind the story,

You know, Harry was actually there when I painted it.

Her eyes widen as she gapes at me,

You got that close to him?

I nod, realisation spreads across her young features as it clicks in her mind,

You-you're you're Miranda- Miranda Lakers? Harry's girlfriend!!!

The teenager's screaming causes a few shoppers to turn in confusion but they quickly return their attention to what they're doing as she quietens down. I can't help but swallow down the lump in my throat before replying,


She nods as her eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights, she smacks her forehead quickly,

Oh my god!!! I'm so sorry! I totally forgot sorry! Here! I'll double the price on the painting!

Before I know it, she thrusts a fifty and ten note into my hands and takes off hopping down the street with my painting tucked under her arm. She just-took-it. I swallow hard and supress a cry as I realise one thing, I haven't gotten over Harry, how could I? Sure Taylor Swift fell for his charms and there's rumours she's still obsessed with him, everyone falls for his god-like looks and charm, he's just a player, and I'm his game.

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