Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Seven

After a few days, the pain in my head had completely subsided. However, the boys were all still being drama queens about it, even after they'd gotten over their flap over Ben's diary. Cara, however, wasn't over that flap at all; she'd been scheming with Zach for two entire days to find out what exactly was in that book. Zach suggested trying to get Dani or Sam involved, but decided that neither of them had the self control to keep their mouths shut. West and Fil didn't care enough to help, so we were back to square one. I used the term 'we' loosely; I wasn't helping so much as sitting and listening, nodding my head idly every now and then.

"We need to spy on him," Zach announced, as though we hadn't been discussing this exact topic for the last hour or so; we were a dedicated (albeit nosey) bunch. 

"Thanks, mate," Cara said, "for repeating what you said twenty minutes ago. Again." Zach rolled his eyes.

"No, one of us needs to spy on him. We need to infiltrate the den, guys!" 

"Infiltrate the den. What the fuck have you been watching on Netflix? Do we need to confiscate it again?" I asked, pulling a face. When he'd been watching Merlin some time last year, he kept throwing Excalibur metaphors around in general conversation and didn't expect funny looks.  

"Right, when will you two stop bullying me and accept my genius for what it is?"

"When you say something actually genius," Cara said, likely forcing down a proud little giggle. I got up from our bus's little couch and made my way over to the mini kitchen, even though we were advised not to actually walk around the bus while it was moving. In fact, we'd been told to avoid getting up and wandering at all costs. "Where do you think you're going?" Cara asked, as if I was going to leave a moving bus. 

"To get myself a Nutella sandwich. Scheming makes me hungry," I told her, digging through beanies and CD cases in the bread bin. I nearly said something to Zach, but turned to find the poor boy focused on figuring out how to 'infiltrate the den', as it were. 

"Aw, get us one," Cara groaned, clearly hungry herself. 

"Get your own, you inconvenience." 

"You love me, though!"

"I don't have much of a choice, C. I don't think you'd let me stop, even if I wanted to," I said, far too sentimentally for my own liking. Zach made fake puking gestures and retching noises as if we'd genuinely ruined his night. 

"I might stop loving you if you don't bring me a sandwich..." Cara said, thoughtfully raising her eyebrows at me.

"I'm not your slave," I said, before promptly giving her the first sandwich I'd made and sticking my tongue out at Zach when he reached out to grab one. 

"Now, is that really how you want to address the genius who figured out how to get hold of that ridiculous diary of Ben's?"

"Didn't you have a padlocked diary until you were sixteen?" Cara asked, genuinely, around a mouthful of bread and chocolate, not an ounce of mockery in her voice.

"Not the point and you know it. Moving on. I think I've got a solution."

"Is it as stupid as the last one?" I asked, skeptically, as I tried my best to evenly spread the chocolate stuff onto uncooked bread. As much as I loved Nutella sandwiches, they were the biggest inconvenience since Dani Washington.  

"Excuse me? ALL of my ideas have been equally as perfect."

"I'm not too sure perfect is quite the right word here," Cara said, slightly alarmed. I had to say that I agreed, unfortunately. It would be great for Zach to have been a genius, yes, but alas! He would always be horrifically spontaneous.