The freezing cold air hit me like a pile of bricks, making my long, brown hair get all over my face. If it were any other girl, it would look like a shampoo commercial but I was pretty sure I just looked all dorky and stupid.
I pulled it away, cringing when my icy cold fingers touched my cheeks.
This was exactly why I didn't like having my hair down, I hated to take care of it. My hair was wavy but it was also frizzy and those two didn't make a good combination. I usually liked to put it up in a high ponytail but my hair kept me warm and in this freezing weather of New York, I constantly had to find ways to keep myself warm.
I wasn't complaining, I loved this weather. I loved wearing cozy sweaters and scarfs and sitting close to the window somewhere with a hot cup of coffee.
I walked down the stairs as people rushed past me. I had just taken my last final of the semester and it sure felt great. Being a college student kept me really busy, but I didn't mind at all. I liked having something to do. Especially after going through the worst possible break-up ever...
Don't go there, Hannah.
"Ms. Collins," Robin, my bodyguard for the day, greeted me with a nod when I made it back to the car. All of my dad's bodyguards looked pretty much the same: tall, muscular, and always in black suits with white shirts and black ties. They also wore an earpiece so they could all be in communication in case something happened. Most people would drool over them and I probably would too, if they weren't with me all the time.
I didn't always have bodyguards.
My dad was a famous actor. He had been acting since he was a teenager but his big break-out movie came out about five years ago, making his popularity sky rocket. Around the same time, my mom was attacked in a restaurant parking lot. The men took her purse, jewelry, and her car but not before beating her. My dad's success had put a spotlight on my family and people now knew my family had a lot of money which put us in danger. So we moved to a house with much more security and my dad hired an army of bodyguards.
It wasn't just my dad's success that put us in danger. My oldest brother, Colton, was the owner of the most famous nightclub in New York. Nicholas, my second to oldest brother, had started our family's clothing brand company and he ran it as the CEO. A year ago, my youngest brother had decided he wanted to pursue a modeling career. He was currently in Paris.
Who knew success came with a cost? It cost us our safety which was what the bodyguards were for.
Unlike my brothers, I had yet to start my career. I didn't have the same talent as Nick and Colton in running a business or the flawless looks to become a model like my brother Derek. I liked to draw.
I wanted to be a wedding gown designer. I loved designing dresses and had a lot of sketch books in my room where I had a lot of dresses started. Some pages just had doodles others had the silhouette of a dress, each page had a random design that only I understood. The problem was that I had yet to finish a single whole gown, I always just stopped in the middle of it and started a new one.
I got in the car and Robin shut the door. I watched as he went around it and got in the driver's seat. I looked out the window as he began to drive.
Good-bye school, I thought happily as I watched the school pass by.
I loved school but finals week killed me mentally and drained me physically. It was enough to make me not want to see school for a while. I had a whole month to myself. I could lay around in my room, not do anything and not feel guilty about it. It was official: I had nothing to do but draw all day if I wanted...or sleep.
Robin pulled up into the driveway and I watched as input the six-digit code so the gates could open.
My favorite part of the house was the outside—the green grass, the big trees, and the different flowers planted in strategic places to make up the garden. The house was beautiful, of course, but I always thought it was too big. I never understood my dad's logic in moving us into a much bigger house after my mom's attack. I thought it made it easier for intruders to break in because there were more windows and more doors to break into. Of course, I knew that it was my vain mother who had a lot to do in choosing the house.
The car stopped in front of the house and I opened the door before Robin had time to reach it. "I got it." I smiled at him.
He nodded but hurried to open the front door for me. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him. I could open my own doors, thank you very much. I wasn't the famous actress or rich business man. I wished they wouldn't treat me like I was royalty when the only reason I needed bodyguards was because of my family's success. I was no one.
Inside, the house was warm and spotless clean, like always. The living room was the first thing you saw when you walked in, with very expensive and elegant furniture. Everything in the house was so expensive and beautiful and new. The furniture, the decorative ornaments, the expensive floor almost made this house feel like an exhibit rather than a home.
Money had cost me my parents. Especially my mom.
"Honey? Is that you?" my mom called as she hurriedly made her way into the living room. Her face fell when she saw that it was just me. My mom was a very attractive woman. She was tall with perfect hips and short, blond hair with piercing blue eyes. I looked nothing like her. She was always dressed up, as if ready to meet the President of the United States. I often thought how exhaustive it must be to be her but she seemed to love being Christina Collins, Richard Collins's first and only wife.
Today, she was wearing a pale pink pencil dress with white high heels, her hair was straight and she had perfect make up on. She did not look forty-five.
"Dad isn't home yet?" I asked taking off my jacket.
"He'll be here soon," She said looking annoyed by my comment.
My dad was supposed to be here last week. He was out, doing interviews or something. He was currently not working in any movie and was supposed to be here by now.
"Okay," I said as I began to make my way up the stairs.
"Dinner is almost ready," Mom called behind me.
I just nodded.
I didn't have the best relationship with my mom. It wasn't always like this but money and fame had really gotten to her. Ever since my dad became famous, she began to worry about appearances more than anything. She wasn't that motherly either, she only cared about looking good in front of the cameras. It was stupid, but I couldn't change that. She also cared more about her sons with big businesses and careers. I think she began to be even more distant with me when I refused to let her open a business to start my own brand. She didn't understand that I wanted to graduate first. She didn't understand the fact that I wasn't ready, I didn't even have a full gown finished! She found it stupid that I didn't want to be successful because of my dad, just like everyone else. I wanted to be successful on my own.
My phone began to ring just as I reached my room and I smiled when I looked at the caller ID.
"Hey, Pat," I answered taking off my scarf.
"Hannah Banana, how are you?" he said on the other end.
I used to cringe when he started calling me 'Hannah Banana' back in middle school but I began to get used to it when I realized he wasn't going to stop calling me that. Apparently, he thought he invented that nickname.
I smiled. "Good."
"What are you up to?"
"Nothing," I said as I closed my bedroom door.
"Oh come on, anything interesting? I didn't call you to be bored to death."
I laughed. "I'm done with finals?" I offered.
"Mmm, that's something I guess."
Patrick and I had been best friends since we were in middle school. He was truly my other half. I never thought a guy would understand me better than a girl but it was true. He understood me better than anyone. After we graduated from high school, he moved to Miami for school and I haven't seen him since then.
"What are you doing?" I asked throwing myself on the bed.
"Getting ready for the club, baby!" he yelled in my ear. "Hold up—I'm going to FaceTime you because I need outfit advice."
"Okay." I said rolling my eyes. He hung up and FaceTimed me a few seconds later. He was in front of a mirror, trying on different jackets.
Patrick was a fuckboy. There was no other way to describe him, maybe manwhore? He liked to sleep around. It got worse when he moved over there, just like I knew it was going to happen. Which was why, before he left three years ago, I made him take a sexual education class since high school failed to give us any useful advice.
"Now you can whore all you want." I had told him which made him laugh.
Sometimes, I wondered how we were still friends. It had been three years since he left and we lived in different states but somehow, we had made it work. He was all I had.
I talked with him for a while, he told me about his latest hook-up and I listened like the good friend I was. After we hung up, I got in the shower and it was when I was changing that there was a knock on the door.
"Yes?" I called as I threw a blouse over my head.
"Mrs. Collins would like me to tell you that dinner is ready," Katie, one of our maids, called from the other side of the door.
"I'll be right down!" I called back as I put on some jeans.
My dad must have gotten here after all. I was excited about seeing him. I missed him whenever he was gone. I finished combing my hair and then quickly made my way out. I ran down the stairs, feeling like a little girl.
"What have I told you about running down the stairs, Hannah?" my mom asked, looking annoyed when I walked into the dining room.
I ignored her and smiled when I saw my dad. My dad was a handsome man. He was tall with broad shoulders and short, brown hair with brown eyes and fair skin. I looked like him and I loved it. His smile always took me back to when I was a little girl and he would read to me while I sat on his lap. All of that was gone. He was always flying somewhere now-a-days.
"Dad!" I said walking to him.
He stood up as he smiled. "Hey, sweetie," He said as he put his arms around me.
I suddenly had the urge to cry. I missed him so much. "I missed you," I mumbled.
"Me too," He said as he stroked my hair.
"Hannah, your father wants to eat," My mom said sounding annoyed.
I let him go. "Sorry, dad."
He shook his head. "You okay?" he asked with a frown. His brown eyes studied my face as if trying to read what I had been up to for the past few months.
Oh if only he knew.
I nodded as we took our seats. "Yeah, I just missed you."
He winked at me as he squeezed my hand. I hadn't realized that Nick and his wife, Rachel, were also at the table.
"Hey." Rachel smiled across the table from me.
I smiled at her. "Hey."
I really liked Rachel. She was tall, with long, brown hair, hazel eyes and fair skin. She was not only beautiful but also modest and perfect for my brother. They had been married for over two years and they made the perfect couple. Literally, they were always all over the magazines as the perfect couple. Rachel was a fashion designer which was perfect because she fit right in with Nick's business. I admired and wanted to be as good as her someday.
"How was school?" she asked as my mom and dad carried a conversation. I swear she cared more about me than my own mother.
"Good. I'm done for the semester," I said as one of the maids served me pasta. "Thank you," I told her. She smiled. My mom wasn't exactly nice to the housemaids or to anyone that helped keep the house beautiful so I always tried to make up for it.
"What are we talking about?" Nick said looking at Rachel and me. Nick was the spitting image of my mom. They had the same nose, same blond hair and blue eyes. Nick always kept himself groomed and he was always wearing suits, he fit right in with the bodyguards like camouflage.
Rachel rolled her eyes at him. "So nosy."
He smiled as he leaned in and kissed her on the lips which gained a glare from my mom who didn't miss anything. No kissing at the table Nick!
I smiled at them. They always made me think that true love existed. Up to a few months ago, I thought I had found my true love but all I got was a heartbreak instead. Another one added to the list. I was still in the stage where thinking about it still hurt. Thinking about him and everything that happened still made me want to crawl up in a ball and cry.
I never had luck when it came to relationships.
I fell too hard, too fast...and they ended just as fast.
I was starting to believe that maybe love wasn't for me. Maybe I was meant to be alone.
At least I wouldn't hurt that way.