Hostage (a One Direction story)

Chapter Fifteen

Jae's P.O.V.

Numbly, I stagger inside, fumbling my way to my room in the dark. My mind is in turmoil, my heart still racing, and my feelings are in an indecipherable jumble.

Don't think. I command my mind. Just sleep.

And I did.

***

"Jaeeeee," sings a high-pitched voice. "Jaeeee, wake uuuuup! Ja-"

"Shuddap!" I moan, burying my face in a pillow.

"JAEEEEEE!! WAKEY WAKEY SUNSHINE!!!" screeches the voice, even louder and higher.

Mumbling a string of profanities, I crack open my eyelids and see Louis bouncing on the edge of my bed like the overactive chipmunk that he is. I glare at him.

"What?"

"It's almost eleven, and you've got a police-y meeting thinger-ma-bober in, like, half an hour."

"Half an hour?!?! Shit!" I throw the covers off and sprint towards the bathroom. "Wait, Louis! What am I supposed to wear?!" I yell, turning on the water.

"Don't worry! I've donated some of El's clothes that she had lying around!" He shouts back.

I giggle girlishly. I was going to be wearing the Eleanour Clader's clothing. Damn girl, I think smugly as I splash water on my face, life's been treating you pretty well!

A few minutes later, my teeth are clean, my hair is brushed and braided neatly over my shoulder, and I'm back in my bedroom, searching through the mound of clothes Louis left on my bed. Eventually, I pull out a pair of galaxy leggings, a button-up collared shirt made of sheer black material, and a loosely-knit, slouchy sweaterish cover up. My feet are shoved back into the combat boots and I jam a black beanie on my head. No makeup, I think ruefully. Not that it matters. I never really wore makeup before.

I'm about to leave my room when a thought hits me like a brick wall. What the fuck am I supposed to say to Niall? Shit. What if he was just acting on a spur-of-the-moment thing? Or he was drunk or something? Fuck fuck fuck what am I gonna do? I put my head in my hands.

Prioritize, sweety. Put your boy problems aside - YOU FUCKING SAW NATE OUTSIDE THE HOTEL! Christ on a cracker I think I'm going to faint. Or maybe throw up. Better yet, both.

My cheerful mood dampened somewhat, I speed-walk down to the kitchen, towards the smell of scrambled eggs.

"What's cookin'?" I ask Harry, who is intent on a pan set on the stove.

"Monkey brains," he says sarcastically.

I snort in a very unladylike fashion, plopping down onto one of the stools on the counter. "Sounds delumptious,"

He glances up and winks. "Everything I make is delumptious, babe,"

I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Mhmm, whatever you say,"

Thankfully, Zayn comes down and sits next to me, saving me from Harry's awkward innuendoes. "Vas happenin'?"

I laugh. "Just, a little, you know, nervous. I don't really like the police."

Zayn gives me a small smile and pats my shoulder. "You'll be fine. Me'n the lads will be there with you. Shouldn't be any trouble at all."

Liam comes bursting into the room. "Guys! We're gonna be late! Everybody, in the car NOW!" he yells.

Louis and Niall come running downstairs as Harry groans. "What about the eggs I made? Jae's probably hungry!"

I get a little tingle in my stomach at his kindness. "I'll be fine, Harry, let's just go."

Harry gives the eggs one last look before emptying them into the trashcan as Liam herds everyone out the door, down the elevator and into a waiting van. I barely sit down before my stomach grumbles, embarrasingly loud. I blush and wrap my arms around it, wishing suddenly that there was a mute button in place of my belly button. Harry looks at Liam pointedly.

"Told you so, didn't I?"

I laugh at their harmless banter, my eyes on Niall. He's squirming in his seat, rifling through his pockets for something. Finally, he pulls out a somewhat smushed granola bar and, blushing (oh my gosh so cute!) hands it to me, not meeting my eyes.

I smile at him. "Thanks, Niall!" I say.

Hungrily, I shred the wrapper and dig in. It's a little mushed, but the chocolate coated oats silence my stomach, and I'm grateful. Far too soon, the van pulls to a stop in front of a serious-looking concrete building with the words 'London Police Station' painted across the top in blue and red words.

I grit my teeth and square my shoulders as I clamber out of the van, keeping my back ruler-straight as I march into the building.

"How may I help you?" asks the secretary at the desk in a posh British accent.

"Hello, er," I take a moment to read her nametag "-Libby. I'm Jae Rivers. I'm here for some sort of interview or something?"

Libby glances at me, then back at her clipboard, running her pen down its length. "Jae Rivers..." she murmurs, searching for the name. "Jae...Ah! Here you are!" She scribbles something down on the paper. "Just head right down that hallway and through the second door on the left." She says.

I nod and follow her instructions, the boys and Paul trailing behind me like so many little ducklings. A smile fights to break through my serious mask at the thought and I pause for a moment to practice my bland, unfeeling expression. After regaining my cool, I continue, rapping smartly on the simple white door.

"Libby, I told you not to bother me til - oh!" a man with a deep voice and a thick accent yanks open the door, seeming surprised to see me there. "You must be th' girl," he grunts.

I raise an eyebrow. 'The girl'? Bitch better treat me with more res- "Yes, I am Jae Rivers. Here for an interview?"

He nods curtly and allows me to step past him. His uniform reeks of B.O. and something thick and pungent. Alcohol?! I wonder momentarily, before dismissing the thought. No, he's a police officer. They're not allowed to drink on the job.

"Excuse me," says Harry to the man, trying to get past him. "We're going in there too."

"No, you're not," says the policeman, glaring at him. "I've only got an interview scheduled with th' girl."

"Yeah, but Harry here has some first-hand experience with the kidnappers," retorts Louis from behind him.

The officer glares. "Ugh. Fine. Git in, all o' ye."

All six of them cram into the room, with me sitting awkwardly in a chair across from the officer.

"Officer Warren," he says as way of introduction. "Ye all would be One Dye-rection, yeah?"

I sighed. This was going to be a long interview.