*1 week later*
"C'mon, Louis. You need to sit still." My girlfriend, Abigail, complains as she runs a comb through my hair.
"Maybe, if you weren't pulling so hard I wouldn't be fidgeting."
"Oh, don't be a baby." She jokes while pinching my cheeks.
Abigail was the team's official make-up artist and costume designer. Now you may be wondering, why would this job even be necessary or important to our group? Well, it isn't. It's just that (and I kind of feel bad for admitting) Abby really isn't good at field work, or anything in that matter, besides girly fashion stuff. Of course, the rest of the group and I make sure to remind her that she's doing a good job.
"Just a little more hairspray here and...finished!" She exclaims, giving me a grin.
"Should I be scared?" I ask.
"Of course not, you look hot." She compliments, planting a quick kiss on my lips.
"Whatever, you're obligated to say that." I tease, standing to go find a mirror.
"No I'm not, if you looked hideous I'd tell you." She reassures me.
"What about the one time you let me walk out in the most dreadful and unflattering red sweater someone could possibly wear." I can clearly remember taking only a step out of my room before everyone burst out laughing, they even took some photos that could easily be used for blackmail.
"That doesn't count!" She calls out as I leave to go see my reflection.
When I do see what I look like my first thought is that I look like a cross between Prince Charming and rich white boy, but that's technically the same thing anyway.
Now I'm not saying that I look terrible, because I actually look really good (and no, I'm not vain) , it's just that I wasn't particularly fond of taking on the role as someone I would normally hate.
"Louis, would you quit obsessing over yourself in the mirror and hurry up."
My thoughts are interrupted by Robert who is waiting impatiently by the door.
"Are you coming?" he asks.
~
We drove to a small park, because according to Troye (and this may seem almost stalker-ish), this so called Becca chick tends to visit here a lot.
However, he's sometimes wrong, and it seems like that may be the case today. I've been here for nearly an hour, pacing back and forth in the hot and blazing sun. I can already feel my face beginning to burn, and as lame as it sounds, I need to apply some of my spare sunscreen I always carry in my back pocket.
I groan as I look at my watch realizing it's only been two minutes since the last time I checked it. Maybe I just needed to abort the mission for today because the girl clearly isn't here and the only people who are are a bunch of old ladies. Which it's not like I have something against old ladies, because I'm sure they are all very kind, it's just that they are all very intimidating staring at me like I don't belong.
I slump into a park bench behind me and let out a deep sigh. There's one of the said old ladies sitting next to me who looks to be in her 70s, knitting what appears to be a scarf, which confuses me because it's like 100 million degrees out.
"You seem very impatient, sonny." She speaks to me, not taking her eyes off of her creation.
"Sorry, Someone I was supposed to meet up with didn't show up." I try to explain politely.
"Who? Was it a girl, was it a pretty girl. Oh I used to be a pretty girl, young and free. That must've been back in '66 or was it '72? I can't seem to remember these days. Say, by any chance-"
"Yes, I'm waiting for a girl." I cut her off before she can go into some long dramatic life story.
"Well, she must be lucky. You're a handsome lad. What is her name?" She sets her knitting needles in her lap and stares at me expectantly.
"Umm... Becca."
"Becca?...Becca?... Hmm... I know a Becca. Maybe I had a cat...or was it a dog?..."
"That's very nice to know." I say getting up to leave.
"Well... You are very nice. If you are ever looking for a hot date come see me..." She gives me a toothless grin, literally (she's nearly missing all of her teeth).
"Will do..."
"Wait a minute. How could I forget. Becca's my grandchild! Becca! Becca?! Becca?!" She begins to yell causing several people to stare.
"Umm... Maybe you should yell quieter" I suggest, very embarrassed.
"Don't be ridiculous, boy. Becca?! Becca?!"
I'm about to say something but someone else speaks; a girl.
"Yes, Grandma?"
When I look up it's the one person I've been looking for.
"Hello, Becca." Her grandma says with a smug expression.
A/N sorry this took way longer than it should've! Constructive criticism is appreciated!
