Vaz Happenin?: brett-turner: The lack of reaction from Niall was so infuriating. She... ↘
The lack of reaction from Niall was so infuriating. She wanted him to blow up and call her a liar so she could push him against a wall and threaten to kill him. The only time she was happy was when she was around the boys as a group—otherwise she was always so furious. The…
“Stop!” Yelled Brett, completely in shock. “What did you just call me?” She was completely frozen in spot. It had haunted her mind, and it was at the tips of everyone’s lips, but only the nicest one in the group—Niall, of all people—had dared to say it. “Did you just call me fake? And a slut?” She was screaming now, her hand clamped on his shoulder. So maybe she wanted everyone to see her for some sweet little girl who donated to charity and was best friends with everyone. And maybe she wasn’t really like that. But it wasn’t fake. And she was not a slut.
“Yes,” she said, stepping closer, and her hair falling into her eyes. “I am using Louis to get to Zayn. It doesn’t make me a slut at all. I want Zayn, and I’m fighting for him. Isn’t that supposed to be romantic?” Brett was so angry, she could hardly form words. “Whatever,” she barked, pushing Niall away with her palms. “Go run back to your girlfriend.”
With that, she turned on one boot heel and stalked away, steam pouring out of her ears by the bucket load.
Vaz Happenin?: brett-turner: Brett tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. The... ↘
Brett tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. The satisfying sound of her clunky black boots against the ceramic floor clipped through the air, sharp and alerting. Her blue dress brushed against her knee caps, and the itchy fabric on the inside scratched her thighs. It was exactly…
The lack of reaction from Niall was so infuriating. She wanted him to blow up and call her a liar so she could push him against a wall and threaten to kill him. The only time she was happy was when she was around the boys as a group—otherwise she was always so furious. The media often called her bitchy Brett or even Britch. It didn’t bother her at all. She knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t fame, or fortune, or Louis. And she was going to stop at nothing to get it. She stepped closer into the dressing room, slamming the door shut with her ankle behind her so no one would interrupt.
“I have it in my mind to ask Louis to kick you out, Niall,” she sneered, fists clenched. “You don’t belong in this group. You don’t work for it! You’re a lazy ass bastard who never, ever, does anything!” Her voice was rising until she was practically screaming. She heard a whispered comment under his breath but couldn’t detect what it was. Her hazel eyes flashed.
“You think you can control me because you know a few little secrets? You’re wrong.”
Off key | Niall
Brett tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. The satisfying sound of her clunky black boots against the ceramic floor clipped through the air, sharp and alerting. Her blue dress brushed against her knee caps, and the itchy fabric on the inside scratched her thighs. It was exactly the most comfortable outfit, but in the math of fashion and the big time, appearance was greater than comfort. The blonde was starved and on her way to get some sort of food to quench her hunger. She had about reached the fridge when she heard a soft melody coming nearby. The voice was easily recognizable. Niall.
Of all the boys, Niall was her obvious least favorite—because he knew everything. About, well, everything. Somehow it had slipped out and from there it was disaster. Anger burned in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t stand listening to him, and she was so full of anger. She needed a release. So she stormed into the room.
“You call that singing?” Brett barked, folding her arms across her chest. “Do you know how off pitch that was?” She didn’t even wait for a reaction; she just kept on going. “You’re the only who doesn’t even have a pinch of talent.”
