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Left My Heart
Chapter 1
"Mila, get your skinny butt down here!"
Mila Miller shoved her face in her pillow, screamed, and punched the bed. It was way too early to be awake. Actually, it was 10 in the morning, but it was a Saturday and on Saturday's she slept till noon. Rolling over, she dragged her lazy self up and down the small flight of stairs seperating her bedroom from the downstairs floor. She saw her sister, Pheobe, in the kitchen, making one of her signature fruit smoothies and cinnamon buns. Grabbing the one with the most icing, she managed a hello through the chewy layers of pastry.
"Hey loser." Replied Pheobe. "I made these like an hour ago. I needed to get you up cause Logan is coming in like 15 minutes and I needed to tell you I would be leaving."
Pheobe was 22 and very professional, with a fiance that was her times ten, if that was even possible.
"Couldn't you have just left a note?" Shrugged Mila as she licked the glaze off her fingers.
Pheobe frowned.
"No because then you wouldn't see it." The girl had a point. Mila didn't mean to be so nonchalant, she just couldn't help herself. She was more into her sport than anything else. Mila was a professional gymnast. Standing at 5' 4'', she was a "16 year old prodigy," as the papers claimed. She had won Nationals for the USA, and was an Olympic hopeful. But she wasn't famous. Not even close.
"Don't you have to go already?" Mila stuck her tongue out at her older sister. She was such a pain to live with sometimes, but she had to. The two shared an apartment in New York City, where Mila could attend the best gymnastics academy in the country and Pheobe could attend Manhattan Music Academy for her study of the violin. Mila always thought the violin was the most boring instrument there was.
Suddenly, the landline in the room beeped.
"Front desk." Stated a robotic female voice. Pheobe rolled her eyes.
"Actually, you're right for once. Logan is here. We'll be back late, so don't get into any trouble okay?" With that, Pheobe was breezing out the door. Mila sighed and went over to her television, sitting herself down on the couch and watching a rerun of Gossip Girl. This was how she usually spent her time not at the gym.
"No! I told you! How many times do I have to explain this Joe, the h--"
Mila turned at the sound of voices in her apartment. That was not Logan or Pheobe, or the man down at the front desk. When she saw who it was, her eyes widened and she slowly pinched herself. Nick Jonas had just walked into her apartment.
Mila Miller shoved her face in her pillow, screamed, and punched the bed. It was way too early to be awake. Actually, it was 10 in the morning, but it was a Saturday and on Saturday's she slept till noon. Rolling over, she dragged her lazy self up and down the small flight of stairs seperating her bedroom from the downstairs floor. She saw her sister, Pheobe, in the kitchen, making one of her signature fruit smoothies and cinnamon buns. Grabbing the one with the most icing, she managed a hello through the chewy layers of pastry.
"Hey loser." Replied Pheobe. "I made these like an hour ago. I needed to get you up cause Logan is coming in like 15 minutes and I needed to tell you I would be leaving."
Pheobe was 22 and very professional, with a fiance that was her times ten, if that was even possible.
"Couldn't you have just left a note?" Shrugged Mila as she licked the glaze off her fingers.
Pheobe frowned.
"No because then you wouldn't see it." The girl had a point. Mila didn't mean to be so nonchalant, she just couldn't help herself. She was more into her sport than anything else. Mila was a professional gymnast. Standing at 5' 4'', she was a "16 year old prodigy," as the papers claimed. She had won Nationals for the USA, and was an Olympic hopeful. But she wasn't famous. Not even close.
"Don't you have to go already?" Mila stuck her tongue out at her older sister. She was such a pain to live with sometimes, but she had to. The two shared an apartment in New York City, where Mila could attend the best gymnastics academy in the country and Pheobe could attend Manhattan Music Academy for her study of the violin. Mila always thought the violin was the most boring instrument there was.
Suddenly, the landline in the room beeped.
"Front desk." Stated a robotic female voice. Pheobe rolled her eyes.
"Actually, you're right for once. Logan is here. We'll be back late, so don't get into any trouble okay?" With that, Pheobe was breezing out the door. Mila sighed and went over to her television, sitting herself down on the couch and watching a rerun of Gossip Girl. This was how she usually spent her time not at the gym.
"No! I told you! How many times do I have to explain this Joe, the h--"
Mila turned at the sound of voices in her apartment. That was not Logan or Pheobe, or the man down at the front desk. When she saw who it was, her eyes widened and she slowly pinched herself. Nick Jonas had just walked into her apartment.