The Different Views of Procrastinators *on hold&closed*

2.Procrastinators on the Internet: Part 27~Lucy's POV

Lucy's POV:

Part 27- Lucy’s POV

It was cold. It was wet. There were lots of people. There was no food and there was no Wi-Fi. Basically, I was in hell.

I’m not saying that I didn’t want to be there, wound up in my scarf and about fifty layers of clothes, but I’d been there for two hours and I was now cold. I don’t know what I expected. The UK gets cold, end of argument. Maybe I’d hoped that today could have gone perfectly…

I’d had to get here early in order to get a good position outside the BBC Radio centre in London. I’d been thinking about turning up for weeks, but I’d never gotten round to it. I would say to myself, ‘oh, today doesn’t have the right feel to it. I’ll go next week’ or ‘what would be the chance that they acknowledged my existence? I’m so short that they wouldn’t see me anyway’.

I nervously readjusted the orange beanie that was perched on my head whilst looking out towards the road hopefully. I would meet them today, I had to. I’d been a fan of theirs for too long not to have met them before. Or should I say Phan, not fan? Okay, I know that’s technically not correct, but at least I make myself laugh. And 1, 500 other people for that matter…

“Oh. Em. Geee!” squealed a girl from my left. “Is that Phiiiiil!?” She leant forward over the barrier to get a better look, resulting in her pushing me against the wall of the radio station on my right.

“Hey!” I yelped. The girl glanced at me momentarily. She couldn’t be more than twelve years old, but she was still radiating an overly large amount of self-confidence and sass.

“Sorry, kid, but it’s Phil!” she squeaked as she turned back to the taxi which had pulled up a few meters away.

“Excuse me? I’m eighteen!” I responded, trying to push forward back to my original space.

“Right,” the girl said disbelievingly with a suspicious look on her face. She spun back around to start waving excitedly at the taxi. Some people.

A chorus of people yelling ‘Phil’ started up, the wave of people forcing me up against the barrier and the wall at the same time. Help me.

I strained my neck and stood on my tip toes to try and catch a glimpse of his dark, ebony, hair. There. Phil was walking excitedly over to the fans nearest the road, giving them hugs and taking pictures with them. He chatted to some other people, grinning constantly and occasionally popping a laugh in there.

A whimper of excitement burst from between my lips at the sight of him. AmazingPhil. Phil Lester. The Philip Michael Lester was right there. My heart rate quickened as I tried to jump and catch his attention.

“Phil! Hello? Lions! Popcorn! Buffy! Growlithe! Sarah Michelle Gellar!” I waved madly at him with both hands, using the light of my phone as a beacon. Some of the people around me glared at my words, looking at me as if I were crazy. One of the security guards who was stood just inside the building scowled out at me irritably. Well screw you guys, I was going to meet Phil Lester, and they couldn’t stop me.

As I waved my arms around and yelled hopefully, I accidentally hit someone in the face.

I gasped and lowered my arms, covering my mouth in horror with my fingerless gloves. “I am so sorry! Are you okay?” The girl I’d accidentally hit (not my fault! I’m naturally at that height!) was easily two feet taller than me and was of a stocky build. She was clutching a small toy lion. She raised a hand to where I’d hit her and then glared at me, her eyes stormy and her eyebrows colliding together at her glabella. Damn.