❝Calm your tits, man. You got your fucking dark roast latte with an extra shot of fuckboy all over my arm!❞
During an evening in May, Tasha Aquino finally acquires her chance at an adventure. However, it comes at a deadly price and her seemingly un...
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twenty-one ◌ paper lanterns
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On this Thursday in May, at around noon, I came to the conclusion that showering in Paris was the best kind of shower I could ever experience in my entire life. The hot water cascaded from the gold shower head like tropical rain, washing away the soot from the previous day. I scrubbed my skin raw, deciding to use the lavender body wash provided by the hotel as oppose to the bottle of shower gel I brought from home.
I felt so relaxed to stand beneath the perpetual stream of water, inside of a bathroom so large, it seemed like I was in a whole different hotel room from the boys. I was getting use to the idea of constantly being surrounded by Liam, Niall, and Harry, but this luxurious shower, was exactly what I needed to keep me from going absolutely insane.
"That was the longest fucking shower in the world, I thought you drowned," Harry commented the moment I stepped out of the bathroom, a rush of steam swirling at my feet.
"Well I hate to rain on your parade, but here I am, very much alive," I darted a smug expression at Harry who was sat comfortably on the couch. When I first stepped into the shower, he wasn't even in the hotel room. Apparently he woke up early to explore the city, but I had a feeling that he was engaging in shady-ass shit.
"Which is a good thing you are," Niall pipped up with positivity. He sat on the other end of the couch, fiddling with his iPad. "Because Harry was able to complete one of the steps of successfully accomplishing our mission."
"Oh my gosh!" I gasped theatrically, my eyes wide with delight. "Is Harry leaving us and going back to California?"
Harry shot me a snarl, "fuck you."
"Can't let you do that," I smirked. "You might fall in love, and then I'd never get rid of you."
"You're a bombastic piece of sh—"
"—As I was saying," Niall interjected loudly, his voice echoing against the hotel walls. He held up a baby blue envelope, garnering my attention with ease. "Harry was able to nab an invitation to the exclusive gala."
"Oh really," I squinted my eyes with suspicion. "And how did Harry manage to retrieve an invitation to said, exclusive gala."
"Nothing too wild. Just talking to the right people," Harry disclosed with a simple shrug of his shoulders. His gesture exuded indifference, but the forest green eyes that bore into my own, told me another story.
I don't know how, but he knew. Harry was perfectly aware of my investigative escapade yesterday when I trailed him to the sandwich shop. He fully knew I witnessed the envelop exchange with a convicted rapist, and now, I was just waiting for him to blow up in my face.
The hotel room suddenly felt very heavy. The atmosphere no longer harbored welcome and comfort. Instead, it was muggy with abhorrence. The elevated tension continued to develop as the seconds passed, and even Niall didn't know how to terminate the problem. It wasn't until the door opened wide, and we were met with the smell of freshly baked bread that the conflict wilted.
