The Fanfiction Writer (Completed)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Food Bandit

Chapter Twenty- Three: Food Bandit

*Lilah's POV*

"Alright here's a good one." Harry leans forward in his seat, his hands out in front of him. He sets his half eaten plate of food aside and looks straight at me as he says, "What is Niall's natural hair color?"

Everyone groans, except Thomas, at Harry's simple question. They've been asking me trivia questions about themselves for the past half hour and I've yet to have answered any wrong.

"Oh come on, Harry. That one's so simple!" Louis complains. "That's like asking what color eyes you have."

"Wait, your hair isn't actually blonde?" Thomas asks Niall who's got his hand midway towards Harry's french fries.

"Niall's natural hair color is a dark brown. He has bleached it blonde. However, he is in need of a little touch up," I say cockily, grinning widely at them all.

Harry dramatically slams his fists against the table. "Damn. I was sure you wouldn't get that," he mutters and takes back his plate. "Hey! Niall!" He groans, staring down at the three fries left on his plate. Niall's pile has grown miraculously.

"I've got a good one!" Niall exclaims suddenly. He moves his plate farther away from Harry who's determined to get some fries back. Yeah, that's not going to happen. "What did I eat for breakfast today?" Niall asks grinning.

I glare at him. "Niall, I'm not a mind reader. I know facts about you, not what you ate for breakfast." I roll my eyes and bite into my burger.

"But it is a fact! I ate it, therefore, it really happened," Niall smarts, eating a couple of fries at once. He swats away Harry's incoming hand. "Harold I will bite your hand," he threatens.

Harry sags in his seat with a sigh. "But I'm hungry," he frowns.

I grab his plate and put the rest of my fries on it. "Here you go Harry," I say and give him back his plate.

Harry grins at me and eats a fry. "Thank you, Lilah." Harry angles himself away from Niall, shielding his food from the hungry Irish boy.

I laugh. "Anytime."

We finish eating our food and pay the check. We have ten minutes to get back to the theater and I'm seriously not looking forward to the second part of the day. My body aches. I stink. And worst of all, I just don't feet like dancing anymore.

We drive back to the theater quickly, everyone just laughing and having a good time. Thomas makes attempts at joining in on One Direction talk, but when he can't figure out who's last name is whose, I decide to change the subject to let him in. It's nice to have everyone enjoy each other's company. It makes me happy.

When we arrive at the theater I'm surprisingly feeling ready to get back out there. It's only around two in the afternoon and I've already done more work than I normally do in a week. I feel accomplished.

I go over to my bag that I left in a seat and pull out my phone. Instantly I see a a couple new tweets from people I set up to receive text messages of their twitter feed.

I thumb through a couple of them and then land on one from Liam.

"Things happen for a reason. I know that," I read under my breath and stare at the tweet. What does it mean? Was he out with Danielle still? Was something going wrong? Or maybe going right?

I sigh and continue scrolling through twitter, replying and retweeting here and there. Liam's relationship isn't any of my actual business. He deserves privacy and I plan on giving him it.