April's POV

"If you want my opinion, you should just find a new guy - I mean, come on. What he said was completely unreasonable.' I dropped my spoon into my ice-cream, shifting uncomfortably at the prospect.

"We're mates, Nina." I repeated for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, I know. But if he's breaking up with you through a letter, then he's obviously asking for a pissed off April to come back to. I'm just saying – be mean, keep them keen."

"Ap, don't do anything you don't want to." Kayla's voice came from my other side and I turned, smiling gratefully at her. She returned the smile and then shifted her gaze down again, concentrating on her strawberry ice-cream.

I couldn't stop envisioning Aiden in my mind, no matter how much I tried to keep busy – suffering in silence. Not speaking to me. Not caring. I was angry, to say the least. But I was the dangerous type of angry – the silent type. The type where you unfortunately take your anger out on others in a sadistic way. Why was I suddenly so relient on one boy? God, April, get it together. You were alive before him, you'll be alive after.

I cleared my thoughts.

"This is nice," I finally spoke. "You know, all of us together for once. I'm glad we've reached a point where we can finally do this again."

"Hey – you know the code. Whenever one of us broke up with some jerk, we'd always regroup and make them feel better. This is the first time for you; and we're both pissed," Nina glanced at Kayla who nodded vivaciously in agreement, "so we'll vent about him together."

"No-one hurts you and gets away with it." Kayla added.

Instead, I forced a smile. It wasn't Aiden's fault – I knew that much. But I wanted it to be so I could blame him. Instead, I felt like he just left me behind to mope.

"Have you made your decision about your visa, April? If you choose to go, then we have limited time with you. At least let us do this for you." Kayla said out of the blue, her eyes flittering to me softly. My stomach dropped with realization – this is what they really wanted to talk to me about.

"I know." I whispered bitterly.

"Do you know what you're going to do yet?" Nina asked tentatively. "You're not going to leave, are you?"

I sighed. "I really don't know. That's why I need Aiden to come back."

Nina looked disappointed at my indecisiveness and stood up, taking our empty ice-cream cups with it. "Ap. Whatever you do, we'll support you. But Aiden also needs to know - even if he doesn't deserve to."

"Why does he need to know? He's the one who left! He's the one who didn't give me a chance to speak, a chance to explain! He doesn't need an explanation from me – he left." My voice hardened.

Nina sighed, as though she'd expected it. Instead, she changed the topic completely. "Let's meet at my house tonight to hang. We'll... have dinner there."

******

Music blared out from the speakers and made my eardrums vibrate; I stumbled and clutched onto the slippery banister next to me, steadying myself. I glanced over unfamiliar heads and felt my stomach constrict at how alone I felt being in this club with no-one but Nina and Kayla. I hated being in this environment, with these codeine cups, dancing and writhing bodies pushed up against one another.

"Guys, where the hell are we? I thought we were going to Nina's house." I said, my eyes widening at the crowd outside – we were outside a club. Neon lights pulsed hypnotically, blinding me, and crowds of scantily dressed people waited impatiently in line, glaring at our car.

Two minutes later and we had snuck in through an open back door because Kayla had a 'source.' I glared at the back of their heads. I crossed my arms over my chest as we entered a murky corridor near the back of the club and leant against the wall smugly. "You guys don't even look like you're going to a club," I pointed out, frowning at their attire.

"Actually..." Nina unzipped her jacket and threw it over her shoulder, revealing a sequenced dress that glinted in the dim light. I turned to Kayla next in horror. She shed her deceivingly, long-sleeved coat to reveal a fringed black dress underneath and I gasped, glaring at them furiously.

"A bit of warning would be nice," I hissed, "we're in a club, guys. And we're underage."

"No-one will find out, right?" Nina glanced at Kayla worriedly but Kayla nodded reassuringly.

"Noah's friends with the manager – I got him to pull some strings for us."

"What and he just let you into this club?" I said apprehensively, glancing behind me. "Noah? He did us a favour?"

Kayla pouted, "he doesn't hate you, April."

I felt my stomach knot.

"I told him we needed some girl time and that we'd been careful – he said his friend would look out for us. We'll be fine, honestly." She carried on, turning.

I glanced down at my clothes. As far as I'm concerned, a pair of old jeans, red checked shirt with a tatty t-shirt underneath just didn't cut it for a club like this. "Right. And what will I do? I look about 5 years old in this," I whispered, eying the man who had let us in.

A mischievous grin danced its way onto Nina's face and she looked at Kayla who produced a bag from behind her. "We bought the goods." Nina beamed, emptying the contents of the bag onto the floor. "Just pick what you want."

"I've reconsidered actually. I'm perfectly fine like this." I snapped. I withdrew upon seeing their hurt expressions; I was letting out my anger on others and it wasn't fair. "Look – if I get kicked out, then kudos to them for recognising a 17 year old." And that matter ended there.

20 minutes later and here I was.

Glints of gold, burgundy, black, silver and white flashed everywhere and I shielded my eyes from the neon, pulsing lights that spun erratically across the floor and caught in my eyes. I carved my way through to the bar – Kayla said that Noah had a source and we'd be safe. And I was beyond the point of caring about being caught – I really didn't give two hoots anymore. I preferred sulking.

I'd told them I'd be sitting in one place and so I nodded at them from across the dance floor, silently telling them I was okay, and removed my glasses, wiping them and then putting them in my bag.

I was content being left alone to wallow in my own misery for the first hour; I simply looked at others and felt my stomach harden with acrimony. I looked away and cursed myself for feeling so angry at people I didn't know - I envied them because they were able to laugh, dance and talk away their worries. I couldn't do that. I only did that with Aiden.

Was he okay? My hand subconsciously slipped into my pocket and I felt the crumpled, slightly damp letter in my pocket. I'd ripped it to pieces, hoping it would make me feel better, but it really didn't.

"Is that your friend?" A blonde boy tapped me on the shoulder – he looked right through me.

"She has a boyfriend. Want to meet him?"

The boy swore and disappeared, his eyes drawn towards another corner of the club. That was the third boy who'd asked about Nina and Kayla in the past hour. I must admit, it was horrible of me to take out my anger on these unknown people, but damn, it felt relieving.

The streak continues, I thought with dire amusement. Again, I was looked past; was it possible for a people to truly look right through people? I didn't mind, but I was amazed that it was possible. Every person I spoke to, I remembered and I saw – I really looked at them. Others seemed to just account your face but not register it. The first person who'd ever accounted and registered me was Aiden.

I mean, he bloody well kidnapped me.

Shut up, April.

Someone else tapped me on the shoulder again and I turned, a smart comment sitting on my tongue, ready to slip out. A young man, probably around his early 20's, stood grimacing down at me, his dirty blondish hair tucked behind his ear and a toothpick sticking out from between his teeth.

"Which one? Blonde or brunette?"

"I didn't know you were running a ring." I felt my stomach knot.

"I'm not," I spluttered. "Just..." I rubbed my forehead, standing up. "They're not available." The young man slipped into the seat next to me and stared at me awkwardly. I looked away, retaining my cool and looking back at him. "Did you want something?"

The young man shook his head. I noticed how skinny he was; he had longish hair and jeans that were slung down low on his hips and a band t-shirt. He didn't look like he belonged in a club as mainstream as this. I shifted, ready to leave.

"You don't have to leave. I won't bother you."

I glanced at him, before deciding to linger a moment longer. We sat in moody silence, our eyes fleetingly moving towards the light emitted from our phone screens.

The man looked to me awkwardly again and gave me a meek smile. "Anything interesting going on in the world of social media?" He noticed, raising his eyebrows at the familiar periwinkle Facebook logo.

I frowned. "Yep – its reminding me of my dire existence."

In any other case, at any other time, I would have never spoken to a stranger – or a person I knew – with ease, but my wall had been broken down now, so why bother caring? I didn't care. It's like this man would ever see me again or remember me – no-one usually did, which I guess is advantageous to me in some ways.

The man snorted and the frown lines in his forehead disappeared momentarily, "that's some fancy vocabulary coming from an underage teenager. I'm Slap by the way."

I didn't feign shock – it must have been fairly obvious that I was underage considering I looked like I'd rolled in from the gutters. "I don't think my age really concerns you, does it now Slap."

He looked impressed at my lack of interest. "Smart girl."

"Why? Because I avoided a question that could potentially get me thrown into jail. Yeah, real smart."

"You could have made an effort to look 18." He shook his head at me.

I pondered upon this. "I'm nearly 18. Also, dressing up doesn't really make a difference to my age appearance. I just look less like a zombie."

He laughed and rubbed the ginger-blonde stubble along his jaw. "What's your name then?"

"None-of-your-business."

He laughed; he had a silent laugh – the type where his mouth would open slightly and he would shake with laughter, but no sound would escape. "Your parents know you're here?"

I looked to him with mild amusement. "No. Are you going to report me?"

"What, and your two friends there too?" His voice had taken on an accusing condescending tone and I shifted nervously. He sounded like an older brother rather than a complete stranger.

"How do you know?"

"Because I've worked in clubs like this before. They have rubbish security and teenagers don't work hard enough to conceal their age. Club owners don't care... much. So long as no police officers snoop around their doorstep and the teenagers don't cause any hassle, the money they bring to the club just piles up with worthless piles of more money. That's all it is really."

I was impressed with how passionate he sounded. "Nice speech, Slap."

"By the way, my name really is Slap. I know you don't believe me, but my parents were drunk at my christening, so what do you expect?" In any other situation, at any other time, I would have found the situation as funny as he did, but this time I didn't.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That they were drunk."

He looked at me curiously, "it wasn't a serious problem – just a few glasses for special occasions." He paused, watching my expression change. "I'm guessing you know someone with an alcohol problem." It wasn't much of a question and I felt my shoulders slump. He made it sound so serious and incurable. But it wasn't.

"My boyfriend. Or guy friend – I prefer to call him guy friend." He snorted ungracefully and a little liquid sloshed onto the counter, "it sounds less controlling."

"Tough time, eh?" He punched me lightly on the shoulder and chuckled awkwardly; he sounded like Hank from Breaking Bad.

I shrugged in response.

Aiden...

Slap's forehead creased a little like Aiden's did, except Slap's skin was slightly darker and his hair was dirty blonde compared to Aiden's caramel-brown. A pang of longing burnt through my stomach and I winced at the mere memory of my hands pressing against his jaw, his neck, through his hair, around his waist.

It was his birthday tomorrow. I'd been planning a surprise birthday gift for him ever since I'd mentioned it, but he wasn't here with me. And by the time he'd come back, his birthday would be long gone, like a green leaf turning tawny and losing its colour; and by that time, I would have made a decision about whether to stay and apply for a Green card or go back home.

Slap pushed himself away from the bar and looked down at his phone, his lips turning downwards. Then, a red flush suddenly crept up his neck. "I'm not trying to hit on you by the way," he stated out of the blue, suddenly looking up mid-text. "I mean I was just talking to pass time. You know, being friendly and all."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's the way it's been my whole life. I don't think it would change." I replied, smiling slightly. "It's my friends that boys come asking about and I happily reject them on their behalf. They're taken as well." I explained upon seeing his expression.

A small silence passed between us, before he said. "I was going to say that I'm not hitting on you because I'm gay. I don't feel anything towards you." He smiled sheepishly. "I was waiting for my boyfriend, but he obviously chose not to show up," he expanded, pausing, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

I lifted my glass and peered at him over the rim, raising my eyebrows. "Waiting? So am I."

Okay, here goes:

I didn't want to cast my main character as a drop dead gorgeous actress/model/singer, because despite my book being unrealistic, I still like adding element of realism e.g. serious problems such as alcohol, general teenager mindset etc...

So April is described as being an ordinary girl who goes through problems like every other teenager, or she thinks they are problems, such as spots, or acne or hair that isn't as luscious as everyone else's (or so she thinks) or a tummy that isn't flat, or legs that aren't toned, or a figure she can't change or a mind she can't seem to be compatible with and other things that generally define us as humans. By casting her as Barbara Palvin, a model who in the public eye is seen as 'perfect' and 'beautiful' (I think she's so pretty by the way, I'm not slating her) - then all the 'realistic' aspects of April will go away, because everyone will see her instantly as this model who doesn't seem to have bad hair day, clear skin, shapely figure.

That's not really who April is, I mean, she doesn't have beautiful skin or a figure she likes. I mean, like every other teenager, she has things that are embarrassing about herself and I just don't like setting someone I created in a realistic aspect to appear outwardly as someone most people consider 'beautiful' because she' doesn't appear like that, since beauty is superficial.

I mean, overall, they're not a perfect, beautiful couple (by the way, perfect is a concept that humans and society have created, and is therefore false and illusive and tricks people into seeing things in the way of the majority.) So... April is you. Or whoever you imagine her to be.

But just please remember - she goes through appearance and moral problems like everyone else. And she isn't what society consider as 'beautiful,' though the concept of beauty baffles me because how can one human be classed as that and put above others in that rank, since beauty is something we've made up and therefore is different in each of the 7 billion minds on Earth.

So to sum it up, (sorry if this felt like a lecture) Barbara Palvin is attractive, but I don't think I will cast April at all; I just want people to envision her as a mere being, a face in the crowd, an addition to the population (because aren't we all just that in the end.) Everyone 'looks up' to actresses, actors, models, singers etc... but why? They only have talents that are more recognized than others, but so do you.

I mean, whether that's being double jointed, being able to skate, being able to make people smile, making a make shift drum kit wherever you are or even being able to type really fast on the key board - they're all individual skills. And since people believe these models, actors, singers etc... have qualities that are unattainable by them, they consequently view them as being so perfect and great and as a result of this, can't put themselves in the main character's shoes because they feel like they just /can't/ since the character is supposed to be played by this faultless star (everyone has 'flaws' and I'm not slating celebrities - I just like to remind myself that everyone is human, no-one will ever reach societies standards - we're set apart by our minds, not our appearance.)

I just want April to be 'normal.' Or as normal as normal is in your mind. Maybe in your mind that's yourself, or a famous person, or that girl who lives down the road, or just another face in the crowd. Regardless of who it is, I just really like for you to put yourself in April's shoes :)

I'm sorry if it sounded like I was slating famous people! I'm not! They're very talented and have specialties like everyone else, but they're also human, like us, and so shouldn't be viewed as unachievable.

So... yeah. I hope this cleared that question up for you!

Cheerio and if you stayed till the end, then thank you and stay cool :) - IICupcakesII