The Existence of Carrie Griffith (5SOS) [Editing]

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Flying and Crying

I had no clue what time our flight was on Saturday and I assumed that wasn’t a good thing considering my new occupation. I also assumed it was early by the fact that I was faced with Michael’s face at 6AM sharp yelling at me to wake up.

“I am awake, Michael.” I seethed.

“And I thought Luke was a dragon in the morning.” He backed away slowly so he was standing about a metre away from the bed. “Christophe called.”

“And?”

“He said the flight was at 9. We have to be there at seven thirty.”

“Sweet Jesus.” I cursed as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I pushed the doona back and slowly stood up. Michael lightly held my arm and led me downstairs. “How long have you been up?” I asked.

“About fifteen minutes.” He handed me a hot cup of coffee and a bowl of steaming spaghetti.

“Is this Heinz spaghetti?” I inspected the bowl in front of me.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“You’d make a brilliant princess. You’re even picky about what brand your food is.”

“Thanks. Does Sweden have a monarchy? I’ll have to play it sweet with the prince.”

“What’s the bet the current prince is twelve.”

“Eh. Seven year age gap. I’ve heard of worse.” He knew I was joking but his demeanour gave away he was a little scared of me actually doing that. I hugged him and kissed his ridiculously coloured hair. “Don’t worry. You can be my prince.”

“Eww guys.” Calum cringed at us as he walked into the kitchen.

“You’re just jealous hun.” I teased.

“Me? Never.” He looked offended by the idea. Luke and Ashton soon joined us and I realised how alike their morning selves were to the zombies in Warm Bodies. I ended up making three hot mugs of coffee and Ashton basically sculled his.

“Do I need to pack anyone’s suitcases?” I volunteered. I was met with yawns, confused looks or head shakes. “Good. Shotgun first in the shower!” I gave a maniacal cackle and ran upstairs. I washed out my hair and scrubbed down my skin even though I’d be sitting in a pressurised cabin for the rest of the day. I pulled on a pair of tights printed with daisies and a white slouchy sweater over a black tank top. I heaved my towel-dried hair into a messy bun and began packing my backpack. I hadn’t used very much from my suitcase so there was no need to repack that. I just had to throw in the clothes I’d already worn. I put my laptop into my Nike bag and chucked in a few other things, leaving my camera out so I could film things and take photos. I checked my phone to see I had a text from Haylea.

Picked up the car J Have fun running around the world with your boyfie and co. x –H

She’s cute. I went downstairs and was pleasantly surprised to see all the boys were ready. They nodded at my existence as I entered the living room where we all stood, phone in hand. It was five past seven and a taxi was on the way. Eventually, after plenty of ridiculous selfies, a beeping horn outside announced the arrival of a cab to take us to the airport.

We arrived and were immediately deafened by the fans and some I swear were repeat offenders. They looked so familiar. We got our tickets. We’d be flying to Chicago then on to Stockholm. I took a left and went to get myself another coffee. While I looked and acted like I was awake, my brain was as functional as a ball of jelly. I needed a caffeine hit. I walked back to where I’d left the boys to see fans screaming at them and basically hanging off their clothes. I smirked at their discomfort before Michael saw me and gave me a pleading look, and I swooped in to save the day. I politely asked the girls – with the aid of airport security - to step aside and let the boys through. Thankfully, they obeyed and we were sitting peacefully at the correct gate at quarter to nine. Our flight was called for business and first class passengers – that would be us - and we climbed on. One of the flight attendants started flirting with the boys but I’d told myself to expect it, after all, they were all hot and famous!