Life With Mr. Malik (ON HOLD)

Chapter 5: Closet Conversation

“She’s dead.”

“No, she’s not. Hush up and keep pulling!”

“I can’t believe you drugged her.”

 “I didn’t do anything!”

“Zayn, how could you drug her like this?”

“I said I didn’t!”

They continued to drag me across the floor by my feet, the rough carpet scratching my back. I opened my eyes a teensy weensy bit and the first things I saw were the lads of One Direction, all red-faced and breathing heavily.

Oh, come on!

Five guys.

ONE girl?

I’m not that heavy!

This is . . .

This is preposterous!

Aww, look at me using the words my English teacher taught me.

Mr. Dolly must be so darn proud.

I thrashed my arms, taking all of them by surprise and causing them to jump back. Propping myself up on my elbows, I eyed each one of them suspiciously. "Why in the world was I being pulled? Last time I checked, I never auditioned for Paranormal Activity!"

"You sort of just passed out earlier, Miles." Harry said, rotating his shoulder as if he was trying to pop it back into its socket.

His words made my eyes widen in shock. I've never passed out! Not when my knee got badly injured and the blood wouldn't stop pouring. Not when Austin practically puked the life out of him after we tried the most extreme ride at Six Flags that took Loop the Loops to a whole new level and by whole new level, I mean having to go through Loop the Loops backwards! What I'm trying to say here is that I'm basically a tough cookie! I mean, you can call me names. Weirdo. Freak. Dumbass. But you can NEVER call me a wimp!

Because that just crosses the line!

Oh, what line?

You can't see it.

You want to know why?

Because I just scared it away.

That's right.

I'M A BADASS THUG. 

Like I'm such a rebel, I sleep at ten o' clock when . . .

My bedtime's at nine!

I'm telling you. I can't be tamed.

Make way, Miley Cyrus! There's a new animal in town!

"Why did I pass out?" I asked, getting on my feet. 

Before one of them could answer, the front door swung open and a man in a formal suit entered Zayn's living room. We all squinted, trying our best to recognize him. Then, as if they just saw a ghost, the lads' eyes shot up so quickly, I feared they'd go blind. 

If they do go blind, do I get to call them No Eyerection then?

Wait . . .

That sounds so wrong.

Forget I even said that! Moving on! Nothing to see here, folks. Just kidding. I'm here and I'm practically a MUST-see. Okay, I'm being too egoistic.

But you have to admit.

I'm adorbs.

"Miles, hide!" They all said in unison, shoving me to who knows where! Their hands flapped against my back like I was a freaking pair of bongo drums. And before I could even argue, all of them pushed me inside a closet. Harry being the last one to enter, turned the lock before turning to face me.