Cherry Bomb [h.s]

31

The bus rolls out early as always, but not as rushed as every other morning of a travel day. Atticus wants us to still stick to the normal schedule, even though we're taking a detour for a few days. He's one of those people who believes straying from routine once will throw off everything else for weeks. But this morning, at least, he's not rubbing his temples in frustration, with tired eyes and unkempt hair. Instead, he looks well-rested and put together, ready for whatever the day throws at him. I guess that's what happens when you're not stressed out, running late, while also having to manage what is essentially two buses of overgrown, foul-mouthed toddlers. Go figure. 

Without really thinking about it, Harry and I get on the same bus. Normally, we try not to ride the bus together, because even though we've... let's say warmed up to each other, we still tend to bicker and piss each other off. Partly because we always have so much sexual tension between us and can't really do anything about it on a confined bus with other people around, lest we get caught. And I would really hate to explain our situation to anyone, especially Amber or Zayn. 

By the time Harry and I make eye contact with each other, a silent conversation passing as we've realized what we've done, it's already too late. Niall and Willow are clambering on with us, the other bus already closing it's doors. 

Instead of one of us offering to quickly switch spots or sneak our way onto the other bus, we both just silently sit down, accepting it. 

A big part of me is relieved. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, I find myself drawn to Harry's presence. It's just the sexual attraction, I'm sure. Why else would my skin buzz every time I'm close to him? 

As the bus driver is getting everything set, I notice that Harry seems to be thinking intensely about something. 

"Trying to remember if you've been a dick yet today?" I joke, "Don't worry, I'm sure you've already met your daily quota."

"Very funny," he replies dryly, "It's nothing, I just feel like there's something I forgot. I'm sure it's nothing." 

The bus starts to pull out, and Harry and Willow quickly make their spots in the tiny beds, dozing off as easily as they breathe. Niall seems to be bouncing with energy, but even he eventually crashes from lack of sleep. The only person still awake a half hour into the trip is me. 

Even though my eye is twitching and my head feels fuzzy, for me two very common symptoms of not enough sleep, the same eerie thoughts keep popping back into my head, keeping me wide awake. 

I don't want to say anything to Harry, because nothing has actually happened yet. I would hate to worry him for nothing, and/or have him be pissed at me for bringing it up. Or have to deal with the answers to questions I don't even want to ask.

Yesterday afternoon, about an hour after Harry left my hotel room, I got another text from the Mystery number: 

I Hope Screwing Him Is Worth It.

Then another, before we opened up the show:

Harry Has Some Important Plans Later Tonight. Be A Doll And Don't Do Anything To Screw It Up. 

When I sent back a text asking 'What Plans?', all I got for an answer was a winky face.

I was being toyed with, I knew it. Like some sadistic game of cat and mouse. Except in this case, I have no idea who the cat even is, or how dangerous they are. It could be like an episode of Tom and Jerry, or it could be like a nature documentary about the harsh reality of the food chain, narrated by David Attenborough. All I know is that they're involved with Harry somehow. Or, at least, have some sort of interest in him.