A story that came to mind when my friend Kyra and I talked about what it would be like living with the boys. It's something I'm very hesitant to put up. If it's met with negative response, I'll likely take it down. SO, if you like it, lemme know! Thank you!
~July 5th~
After several months of peace, bliss and the entire house to myself, I have suddenly been notified that my room-mates are coming home tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow. Talk about short notice. I got a text from Harry this morning, which read something like: “hey, lads and I are back in London tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you!” Which, in Harry speak, translates to “have the house cleaned and your girly shit out of the living room in 24 hours, wench.”
To which I replied: “yay! Can’t wait either!” Which, in MY speak, translates to “piss off, Styles”.
I’m certain that if I had been checking the horrendous Justin Bieber calendar in the front hall periodically, I would have had more of a warning as to when my five lovely roomies got back. However, I have made it my personal mission to avoid said Justin Bieber calendar as much as possible whilst living under this roof. But, if we’re being honest, even if I had known earlier than now, I still probably would have left all of the house cleaning until the last minute. Even now, I should probably be getting a move on, but I’m complaining about it online. Oh, the woes of being Elodie Stark.
It’s not even as if the house is a complete wreck. I usually keep it in tip-top shape while the lads are off gallivanting around North America, doing whatever it is that they do. However, I do take advantage of the fact that nobody is around to demand I keep my fashion magazines out of the bathroom reading pile or to hide the chick flicks whenever the “guys” come over. Even still, the de-girlifying process takes only three or so hours (one and a half if I can convince Jazzy to swing by and help out). I think the boys are convinced I hold Project X parties every weekend while they’re away. I mean, the first thing Harry does when he gets back is count the beer bottles in the fridge, making sure that the total is still the same as when they left.
Uuuuugh. This sucks. Everything sucks. Why can’t they all just move down to the States permanently and leave me alone to watch whatever I please on the telly and leave my nail polish lying around?
Okay, so maybe I’m being a bit melodramatic.
Living with the boys isn’t too bad. I mean, they’re rarely home and seeing as they’re all loaded, I rarely have to help pay the bills. Plus, what girl in their right mind wouldn’t enjoy living with five highly attractive guys? Despite the fact that I’ve been friend-zoned hardcore by ALL of them, it’s still a pretty sweet deal. Even still, I feel like I’m allowed to rant every now and again, which is partially the reason I started this shiny new blog. Not that anybody who reads it will sympathize with me. After all, living with One Direction (screams and sobs of millions of fangirls across the nation here) must be the most fantastic thing in the world, right?
Hahahahahahaha riiight. The only reason I live here is because Harry took pity on me. We were supposed to room together during uni, seeing as our parents were uber close, thus resulting in us being uber close (err…sorta). However, that plan was thrown out the window once Hazza became a world-renowned pop phenomenon and obviously had no use for a higher education anymore. Letting me live with him and his band-mates was basically his way of saying “sorry for getting famous and stuff and leaving you with no place to room for university”.
And, as I said, I am forever stuck in the friend-zone with all five of those little bastards. Three of them have girlfriends and the other two think of me as their pet gerbil or something. I don’t even know. All I do know is that I’m probably the only girl in London none of them have slept with. It’s a pity really, but what are you gonna do? I’d rather be Niall Horan’s gerbil than homeless.
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Confessions of a British Kid [One Direction/British Fame]
FanfictionMy name's Elodie Stark and I just so happen to live with five world renowned pop phenomenons. Male pop phenomenons, may I add. It's basically the dream of every female between the ages of 11 - 19. The sad part? I'm in a strictly platonic relatio...