CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
The World According to Louis Part III
I sit next to Harry, Miles, Juliet, Niall, Liam, and Zayn in the store. I'm pretty sure that it's a mix between a book store and some kind of herb store. On the front windows the fans bang on them screaming in excitement.
It's boring as shit in here. After a few minutes Miles and Juliet start browsing through the books, looking for something to read to pass the time. I decide to join them in their search for entwinement.
As we browse the shelves together, Miles suddenly asks me;
"Do you miss being normal?"
"What do you mean?" I ask
"Well, do you ever get tired of hiding out in stores for hours at a time. Do you miss just being able to walk down the street"
His question catches me a bit off guard. I can't remember a time when someone asked me a question like this. I don't really know how to answer it. I do miss being able to just do stuff in public without getting mobbed, but I also don't miss the fact that no one would notice me.
"Sometimes" I reply
A book catches my attention, and I pick it up. The Completely True (But Utterly Fake) Diary of Carson Davis (haha see what I did there, I used one of my books for a cameo.) I go and sit back down and start to read it. Time passes quickly as I read, and soon I feel someone tap me on the shoulder and I look up.
"They left" Zayn tells me
"Finally" I mutter
I get up and pay for the book and we leave.
"So how often does this normally happen?" Juliet asks as we walk out the store door
"Several times a week" Zayn answers
We run back to Juliet's mom's car and pile back in and head back to Miles' house. I glance at the digital clock on the car's dashboard. 5:45pm. It's been about three hours. They had us trapped for three fucking hours.
*•*•*
YOU ARE READING
The Band
FanfictionA birthday gift for a close friend of mine. Juliet Moore convinces her best friend, Miles, to enter a contest to have One Direction stay with you for a week on a whim, believing they'll never win. But when they do, hilarity ensues, as they struggle...
