My name is Roseanne Martinez,but most people refer to me as Rose or Rosie. I was in love. Actually I still am. He never loved me back though. He was just another popstar,that likes to crush hearts. I should have seen through his perfect reputation. No one ever threw him hate. Even if he broke their hearts,they just pretended it was their fault. I don’t think I can do that. No,I won’t, I cannot! I will make a mess of his facade,I will make a mockery of him! He will not win this game. He picked the wrong player to knock down,now he WILL pay the price. I just wonder how long he will try to stay on top. I will be on top in the end. Or will I? Read on and find out!
A/N: This is sucky,sorry. I personally think the story is actually better. Please read it,it would mean a lot to me!


19. Texts

  Weeks have flown by since the day Zayn smashed his soft lips against my chapped ones and since Louis admitted he loved me still. Each day was a struggle not to call up Louis and beg for forgiveness, beg for him back. I would not do that again, I have grown much stronger than I was last time Louis hurt me.

  Today is the start of week three and I hear my phone go off across the room, where I threw it yesterday when the update deleted all my photos. All the pain-filled memories gone, but also all the ones that fill me with warm fuzzies. 

  I pick it up and read the text sent from Seven Styles (the name came from an inside joke about a tongue twister that goes "How many hair styles would Harry Styles style if Harry Styles styled hair styles?" Harry had screamed seven and forever been branded as Seven Styles.)

  "sup babes?;) haha! just seeing what you are up to! Oh!!! And Lou gets out of the hospital today, homeward bound homie;O" He had sent in his normal barely readable language.

  I chuckle at his craziness and text back quickly, "Get a life, Curly Cat ;) You taking him home?"

  He answers pretty fast, an oddity for these boys since they are almost always busy. "I am not, Paynie is. Hey...I have a Q"

  I wonder what it is and type my answer rapidly, nervous of his question. "Shoot away Stylin' Styles."   Guess I have a bit of a nickname fetish.

  "Take me for a visit to the leprechaun and then some drinks at the pub?" His text says, formal except the nickname, odd for the Cheshire boy.

  "Of course." Was all I could reply. 

  "Thanks xoxo" He replies back.

  I am not sure how long I can deal with all this awkward tension, this distance, from the boys, especially Louis, but it will fix itself. It had to, or else I would have to move.


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