Frisson

Chapter 2

Okay, so since I was completely blown away by the quick response to the first chapter, I've decided to post the second tonight!  Updates won't always be this frequent since school and clubs and sports and whatnot keep me quite busy, but tonight is an exception!  Please help this story grow by voting and commenting!  I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, whatever they may be!  Thank you thank you thank you!

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*Eliza's POV*

“Liza!  Liza, wake up!”

There’s a piercing shriek in my ear and a fist connecting repeatedly with my arm.  Who the hell called the damn SWAT Team in here?  My hand flies out to catch the offender in the ribs even as my lips mumble a few choice swear words.

“Elisabeth Noelle Walker, you better wake the hell up right now, or so help me God!  You will thank me later!” Sam’s voice is insistent in its demands this time and impossible to ignore.

I swear, if she’s seen another damn billboard advertisement for “special services” and felt that I needed to be woken up to laugh with her, I’m going to have a high-speed come-apart on her happy ass…

I snap one eye open and growl, “What are you bleating about now, Sam?”

She shoots me a look that clearly says “screw off” before replying, “We’re in the city now, and I swear their tour bus just passed us on the express lane!”

That wakes me up.

“What?! Why didn’t you wake me up?!” I shout at her. 

“I was trying to if you would so kindly recall!” she answers pointedly.

I let out a loud groan, “We’ll never catch up with them in this traffic jam!  This is mad!”

All across the five lanes of traffic heading into the city, cars, trucks, semis, and those ridiculous little box-cars that shouldn’t even qualify as proper vehicles clog the asphalt as far as the eye can see in either direction.  Now, I know traffic is usually pretty bad in cities, but there’s no denying that the concert tonight is not helping matters.  Some of the cars have their windows chalked with the boys’ names in alternating streaks of bubblegum pink, Easter green, baby blue, and white that’s actually grey.  One SUV even has its windows rolled all the way down and its radio blaring What Makes You Beautiful on the loudest volume setting.

Sure it sounds obnoxious as hell, but let me tell you, it’s hard not to get pumped up!  After two more hours of waiting in the car though, I’m starting to get a little stir-crazy.  Thankfully, my mom finally spots a break in the traffic and bolts through the gap onto the express lane with her foot bearing down on the accelerator.

Over the bridge, around the cars splayed out like colored marbles on pavement, and through the narrow lanes that squeeze between office buildings and department stores, we drive with barely contained excitement and a carefully modified playlist on shuffle.  When we reach our parking space three hours before the show is due to start, Sam and I leap out of the car like Jack-In-The-Boxes that have fallen over sideways. 

The arena is four blocks down and another two over, but even so, I’m surprised we managed to get this close.  My mom and Kathy insist on double and triple checking that we have everything we need from the tickets themselves to sound-dampening headphones for the moms.  Queue the eye-roll.

Finally, they admit that we do in fact have everything we need and down the street we begin to walk.  The sidewalks are flooded with teenage girls sporting One Direction shirts, signs, and banners, the latter of which are decorated with everything from simple proclamations of love to the slightly more intense requests for marriage or “special services” as Sam would say with a suggestive smile.  The amount of screaming, singing, and shouting kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball with a pair of those sound dampening headphones, but I’d never hear the end of it from Sam.