Roses for Roselyn (Niall and Harry Fanfictions)

She was just an ordinary, grounded girl with a young, obsessive sister... little did she know that her sister's biggest idol was obsessing over her. Join Rosie and Rachel on their journey in love, friendship, obsession, fame and passion. What will happen? Who will happen? And most importantly, how will they cope with the disadvantages of 'the good life'?

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81. Article

ROSIE’S POV:

When I wake up in the morning, I find out that I fell asleep on top of the duvet with my phone still in my hand. Looking at it now, I can see that there is an image on the screen –it’s unlocked. I must have fallen asleep talking to Niall on face time because my battery is extremely low and I can see white covers pressed against the camera lens. Niall must be holding his phone, in the exact same way that I was, because the picture moves ever so slightly once every few seconds and Zayn is only just visible from the bed to Niall’s left.

All that’s visible is one leg, covered in a thick blue pair of tracksuit bottoms that is hanging off one side of the bed, and also a part of the dark skin on his back. I laugh quietly and screenshot it before ending the call and stretching out under the duvet.

I wonder who fell asleep first? Probably me. Especially after my lack of sleep last night, but today is a new day and I feel fresh and energised.

‘Sorry for falling asleep on face time. Talk to you later –just in case either of us are busy later on then have a good day hun, Rosie xx’ -6:32am London, 1:32am New York.

I quickly get showered and dressed and by the time I’ve finished eating at the breakfast table downstairs I have enough time to just sit on my phone for a while. It’s at that point that I finally decide to send Zayn a message –attaching the picture that shows him fast asleep in the hotel room.

‘Blame your roommate for this picture ;) nice leg hair by the way Zayny Baby, mwahahahahah. Rosie :) -7:47am London, 2:47am New York.

It’s the normal banter that Zayn and I would have back in the UK, so it feels familiar as I press send and wait for the text to travel all the way over to the USA. In about 10 minutes I will have to get Lola to speed up, so that we can get going and I can get a good parking space for the Range Rover before all of the teachers and other sixth formers arrive.

POPULARITY DISPARITY? by Maddie Stuart

There is no doubting that One Direction -along with their friends, girlfriends and fiancés Sofia Smith, Eleanor Calder, Perrie Edwards, Rosie Stephens and Rachel Stormes- are all in what seems to be the most popular friendship circle in the world. Let’s not lie to ourselves; if they had been at our high-school we would have been dying to join them. Although in reality, it is most probable that we would have been made outsiders from their private little cult of popularity.

It has now been confirmed that, the newest and hottest couple in the celebrity world today, Niall Horan -former member of the pop sensation One Direction- and Rosie Stephens -a British sixth-form student living in London- have been going out for the past 2 weeks now. A source tells us more.

"Well it was all very weird... Being a Directioner myself, I had never heard Rosie talk about them until around two weeks ago, when I caught her looking through the Internet and searching up their names on google."

"I asked Rosie what she was doing and she made it quite clear that she didn't think that it was any if my business. If anything, she was extremely rude to me," the insider tells us "even though we're in the same textiles class and have been for the past two years. It upset me because no one had ever been so disrespectful and rude to me before. When I asked her about how she knew the boys she just simply said 'I met them last night' and stated that she 'was just lucky'."

"The way that Rosie left the room was truly horrifying -ungracious in making gestures with her hands and slamming doors- but the way that she degraded me as 'just one of the boys' fans' was even worse. I've never met anyone as rude as Roselyn before, in my entire life. It's clear she's only in this for the fame and Niall's money."

"I have to wonder, does Niall really understand what she is like behind closed doors? Or is her sweet and loving personality all a persona to get her further in life?"

It is now that we must ask ourselves, if even the people closest to her are scared and threatened by her unpredictable behaviour and dishevelled manners, then how can we trust that she will look after our blonde haired angel? 

Is she in all of this just for the fame?

And as the two newest members of the jealousy-worthy friendship group, is Rosie's best friend (Rachel) only tagging along for the front seat right that throws them straight into the spotlight? Email your thoughts to maddiestuart@theguardian.org.uk.

ROSIE’S POV:

“Rosie, is this the first time you’ve seen this particular article?”

“Yes, miss. Thanks for showing me.” I am disgusted but glad to at least know what’s being said about me in the news. It gives me some forewarning and something to expect in the future.

This particular article, written by some cow named Maddie Stuart, has made its way onto thousands of websites and even the front page of this morning’s Guardian.

“That’s no problem love. I’ll show Rachel when she gets here for media.” I stalk towards the door, teeth scraping against each other and fists clenched, whilst I force a smile through my rigid lips to be polite.

“Okay thanks Miss Green.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I let the door swing on its hinges but then catch it when I hear my past media teacher call me back. “Oh Rosie? You don’t know who the source was do you? I could tell someone about it here at school and try to stop it from happening again?”

She gives me the option –a very good one at that- but I throw it back and choose an even worse option.

“No, I have no idea.” There’s no going back now –but I don’t care, because the anger building up in my veins needs to get out –quickly. 

 

There she is. Sitting at her small computer desk, one that I try so hard to avoid every time I walk into this horrific room. Textiles. Deciding against avoiding her today I storm right up behind her, in my brown leather heels, and jerk my head so that my lips are right next to her ear.

She can see my reflection in the laptop screen in front of her. My eyes are mad and my hair is wiry and thick from throwing it back in a moment of anger.

"You bitch." I simply whisper it... So slow that she can hear every syllable and movement of my tongue and teeth. My voice is confident with adrenaline, the slight shake of her hand is not.

Becky takes a second to compose herself, but continues to sit staring into her blank computer screen, not daring to turn her head and look me in the eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." She would have fooled me if it was not for the slight shake in her voice as she pronounced the last two words. 

"Oh... I really think you do." My voice is an unapologetic growl.

"No I don't."

"We'll you're stupid as well as a liar then." A small crowd of three classmates comes over to watch, whispering between themselves. 

"I am not a liar."

All I can do is let out a shrill laugh. A hand is placed on the shoulder of my blazer, trying to pull me away lightly. It belongs to James; a boy whom both Rachel and I have known since primary school.

I shake it off, and pull myself back, wanting to do it myself- according to my own decisions; taking my hot breath off of her neck.

That's when she snaps her head around to look me in the eyes, with a bitter expression clouding them. I can feel our horrible teacher’s eyes on the back of my head and I know that her favourite student won't be reprimanded for anything foul that she says to me.

"You know, Rosie. If I were you I'd be much more careful where I go throwing my... weight... around." Her bulgy eyes run up and down my small figure with a smirk; instantly outlining my insecurities. My bony wrists, my too small waist. Everything that I hate. I turn around and remove myself from the situation. I don't want to get into a fight. "I've heard about the all horrible letters you've been receiving. Wouldn't want to tempt any of the senders, would we?"

The squeak in her voice, as she shouts across the classroom, gets to me. I stand still and think through my options. I shouldn't be tempted.

However, the only thought on my mind is: You know what? Fuck it.

I lunge backwards, quicker than anyone can predict my next moves, and lunge for her dirty blonde hair. I grab her ponytail with one hand and fight her off with the other. She can only dig an elbow into my ribs, and I scratch her arm before we're pulled apart by two boys.

We spit disgusting words at each other from where we are held back at opposite end of the classroom. "You dirty bitch! You sent me those letters! You helped to write that article! I swear to god!"

"Filthy hoar! You think you deserve him but you don't!"

"He deserves to be happy!"

"Sleeping around with all the other boys won't make that happen!"

"I'm not! What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You wait until tomorrow. Then you'll find out. Slut!"

"Don't you fucki-"

"Rosie. Rosie, calm down. You're only going to get yourself into more trouble."

James' dark brown eyes, almost a shade of black, are careful with warning and I remember what I'm doing - exactly where I am. This anger isn't me -it isn't who I am. Fame is already starting to change me for the worse, and I am scared, but only enough to drop my resisting fists and the curses, although the fear is not enough to make me regret my actions or taste the bitter feeling of guilt for lashing out on Becky.

I may have let myself get carried away, but boy am I glad that I was the one to leave the red grooves down one of her forearms -to pull her hair out of the greasy ponytail so that it looks even more unappealing and unkempt.

Becky narrows her eyes at mine, a cold smirk on her face. At least I look ashamed with myself, enough to class as looking guilty. 

"Right. Both of you to Mr Chapman's office. NOW! I will not tolerate any fighting in my classroom -this behaviour is appalling! Look at you -2 bright year 13 students scrapping like a pair of cats." Ms Cox goes on and on about our behaviour as we follow her down the corridors. James is hot on my heels, and one of his friends follows Becky behind us.

I laugh at the way that I pulled on her deeply unattractive, purple blouse so that one side of her green bra is visible. Becky hasn't noticed yet -that's one of the many contributors towards my deep chuckle as we near the principal's office.

“Just tell him exactly what happened, keep your head down, be polite and talk when you’re spoken to. It will help –I’ve been in this kind of position before.” I nod to myself and try my hardest to remember what James tells me. He takes his hand off of my shoulder to let me step through the threshold.

Miss Cox throws the door open, after knocking out of courtesy, and stares me down as I throw my hair back over one shoulder and sashay into the reasonably large office.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt Mr Chapman, but these two girls have just been fighting in my class room and I couldn’t wait for someone to come and pick them up.”

“Okay, leave them here with me.” The principal’s eyes quickly scoot over both me and Becky and then widen as his stare reaches our sixth form uniform –not what he was expecting at all.

I look over at Becky’s top to see that her underwear is still making an appearance –probably why Mr Chapman’s cheeks have appeared to have turned a quiet shade of beetroot. I keep my expression stiff and promise myself to embarrass her later, in a more humiliating moment. It couldn’t ever be worse for her than the way that she has degraded me in my own home, in the news - even on twitter.

Everyone exits and the three of us are left alone in the bright-white office that smells of coffee; to the point that it is almost sickening.  “Well this is disappointing. Take a seat. What are your names?” Becky sits down first, which gives me the opportunity to take the seat furthest away from her so that there is space in between the two of us as we face the school’s head master. He fills a mug with freshly brewed and black coffee, so that he can take it to the desk, and he sits before us.

“Becky Childs.”

“Rosie Stephens.”

“What a shame. I’ve never heard anyone say bad things about either of you and now… well. This.” Mr Chapman has a very long face, a crooked nose and deeply engraved wrinkles that sit in rows above his eyebrows.

“Becky is not a name that I am familiar with. However, Rosie Stephens is.” He gestures to the newspaper beside him. ‘The Guardian’. Anger threatens to bubble over my breaking point, yet again, but I swallow down my pride. I will only speak when spoken to.

“I was going to call you in here for a chat any way, Miss Stephens. You’ve saved me the effort of coming to collect you from lessons of course, but it’s disappointing all the same.” The way that his lips briefly touch each syllable as he races through them, makes me feel on edge to catch every word, and extremely insecure.

“How long is this going to take sir?” Becky’s voice is sharp and sweet, making her seem younger than 17, which is both of our ages. Unfortunately she hasn’t learnt to keep quiet, as I have. Mr Chapman is not happy about that.

“As long as it needs to take.”

The silence drowns over the room when he suddenly decides what to do with the pair of us. “Miss Stephens will you please go and sit in my personal assistant’s office?  I think Becky and I could do with a little chat, don’t you?” I simply nod my head once and get up to leave. I have only just reached the door when I remember.

“Oh, and Becky? Hasn’t anyone ever told you that showing off your underwear to get what you want doesn’t make you look any more attractive?”

It’s a tame comment in my opinion, although - as she looks down at her breasts and fumbles with the buttons - I could have sworn that she looked like she had been well and truly slapped. It’s all I need to cheer me up as I pass through the door with a smile and find my way over the corridor to the tiny office that sits opposite.

©nialls_tribute

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