Picture This (Niall Horan Trilogy)

-Niall's a babe? [Chapter 2]

Ashley's POV:

For a moment I just sat there wondering why I was always so quick to crumble under my sister’s pressures. People always did, I don’t what it is. The twang in her voice that she puts on when she’s asking for something, or the pout when you say no, or maybe it’s the mood you have to endure from her afterwards for at least twenty four hours. Nonetheless I was keen to avoid all of these things if I could. So, connecting the strings of my bikini back around the nape of my neck I slid my sunglasses onto my head and sauntered up the beach feeling even more annoyed at her by the second.

It wasn’t that we didn’t get along. We just had a very…True to form sisterly relationship. She was annoying, we were contrasting, we always wanted different things. I could have been born in the wrong century, and she was definitely born in the right one. She loved cheesy pop music, scratchy metal, anything modern and with purely no meaning, she loves it. It was probably putting a declivity on my street cred but I much preferred an old record player spinning across the disk and chanting out a vintage Louis Armstrong record. I don’t totally despise modern music, but I prefer lyrics with meaning. Looking between the lines has always been something I’d endured in, I’d always believed that things went deeper than people ever wanted to let on. Nonetheless, I was pretty much the only person in my household to enjoy the jazzy tunes of the old century, the deep and tear jerking lyrics and scratchy broken records. There was something so much simpler about it, and I liked simple. But when your Father is a record label producer, indulging in a love of old jazzy rhythms isn’t a habit that’s at all accepted. Rather ignored, actually.

And I could hear the meaningless rapping in a low hum before I even cleared the threshold. It was the signature blaring of my sister’s IPod on her docking station. Innovation had been something she’d tried to push on me so many times – mainly by blaring hers through the speakers to vibrate the floorboards – but I just had no interest in the electronic and practically airbrushed era of music.

You a stupid hoe,

You a stupid hoe.

I was already tuning out Nicki Minaj’s voice as soon as I slammed the door behind me. It would always be beyond me how that was supposed to be music. Music is supposed to be about expressing yourself, if the author of the lyrics lived in a house full of hoe’s, then maybe this one off, on occasion, lyric clash might be acceptable. But not to publish, not for the whole entire public to purchase, the blare from their speakers, headphones, it wasn’t morally acceptable. And yet it was supposed to be.

Without giving second thoughts, or even brief glances to the strangers I only recognised from Ellie’s posters lounging around on the sofas and chattering and laughing with her I marched a beeline to the farthest wall and slammed my hand down on her docking station. A strange silence fell upon the room and I could feel all eyes watching me but I continued in my rage when the lyrics only appeared to get louder and lose meaning by the second. In a desperate attempt to get the audible torture into silence I ripped the plug from the wall. A crackle came through the speakers and then it feel silent, the same as the screen went black. Better.

Already the cold and hard stare of my sister was boring into me. I almost smiled to myself. The tranquillity of the air free of the women’s rapping disaster was sure something to smile about. This, was until my eyes travelled the radius of the room and I was met by five teenage boys staring at me. At first I felt uncomfortable, but then suddenly angry. I was sure they were nice boys, as nice as boys come, but these were some of the people who had contributed to the dishevel of the music industry now a days. I suddenly got an urging to launch into all my opinions on the music of the twenty first century – but I refrained – I was probably going to be outnumbered and would most likely make a complete fool of myself in front of five undeniably attractive A list celebrities. So instead I stood there, hoping someone would fill the silence, but it wasn’t looking likely.