Hot Mess | N.H. (discontinued)

e i g h t [ 8 ]

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Hot Mess:

c h a p t e r : e i g h t [ 8 ]

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"You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength." -Marcus Aurelius

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IMPORTANT MESSAGE: BEFORE YOU READ, I WANT TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I'VE DONE SOME CHANGES TO CHAPTER SIX, THE ONE WHERE NIALL AND EMERY FORMALLY MEET (sort of formally). YOU DON'T HAVE TO, BUT I STRONGLY SUGGEST YOU TO READ THE VERY END OF PAGE THREE AND THEN THE REST OF THE CHAPTER AFTER THAT (you can tell the pages if your reading on the computer, if your on a mobile device, just skip to the end part kind of and look for where Niall asks why Emery is there in Ireland).

IF YOU DON'T REREAD IT, NIALL BASICALLY JUST ASKS WHY EMERY IS THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE AND SHE LIES AND TELLS HIM THAT IT'S AN ASSIGNMENT FOR HER PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS IN COLLEGE WHEREAS SHE HAS TO "take pictures of exotic and unique things anywhere" THEY'D LIKE. THAT INFORMATION WILL COME IN HANDY DURING THIS CHAPTER, SO, YEAH. READ ON, THANKS!

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Emery

"Thank you," I thank the genuine lady behind the counter with a smile, grabbing a hold of the warm—what the lady called—soda bread.

"Not a problem!" she cries back, replicating my grin. "Have a grand day, lovely!"

While throwing a warming smile over my shoulder, I exit the warm bakery with a load; coffee balanced between my side and forearm, bread in one hand, and phone balanced in the other.

"Who were you talking to?" I hear Miss Walker say on the line after I step foot onto the pavement, almost tripping on a crack in the sidewalk and toppling over, but managing to catch my balance.

Suppressing an annoyed grunt, I huff out, "I was just getting some breakfast, is all," and rest my phone in between my ear and right shoulder so I am able to hold my coffee and take a small sip.

Miss Walker gives an, "oh," before continuing on. "Well, have you read my email? I sent it to you at three-thirty yesterday evening and you haven't responded."

"It was around twelve and I was fast asleep by then," I respond, trying not to sound so bitter as I speak with her, but it's almost impossible, "but I did read it this morning and—"

"Okay. That's all I wanted to hear, Miss Sholes. Make sure you get right on it and have that emailed to me by twelve Wednesday evening so I can get it readied for the racks. Goodbye."

I barley have time to register all what she said before the line goes dead and Miss Walker's strict voice is replaced with an annoying beeping noise. I pause for a minute, trying to digest all that happened in the span of less than thirty seconds, then confusingly press the end button on my phone with a sigh and shove it roughly in my coat pocket; only Elizabeth Walker has the power to make your happy mood go downhill just like that.

Remembering the one thing that she had to say, I start forward towards Niall Horan's house, the place where I was told to loiter un-suspicious-ly around and take pictures, as it said specifically in the email. I honestly don't know how that is even possible—how the hell do you go walk around a celebrity's house taking pictures without having a restraining order put on you or something?—really, but disobeying Miss Walker's orders is something that I obviously can't afford to do at this point, considering I already broke one of her rules already (not that she knows) by talking to the subject himself.