I'm With The Band

1.0

Since none of the idiots told us the dress code for our day out, I've been left on my own to find something that'll work. I'd ask Mila or Steph but, being the stylists they are, they feel the need to look like an eleven out of ten everywhere they go and are far too busy destroying their suitcases and yelling at each other for shirts and shoes and other shit to help a poor, fashionless girl out.

I head grab the first outfit I can find out of my suitcase, a black cropped tank top, red cargo pants, a checkered belt, and white high-top Nike's, and head to the bathroom to finish get ready.

I can hear the girls whining and yelling about which print their dresses should be and what shoes they should wear and I laugh at myself. I wonder what it must be like to care so much about something as little as an outfit. I mean seriously, you've got your whole life to come up with outfits. Why be so dramatic about one day?

I take my hair out of the french braids I put in last night before bed and loose blonde waves cascade over my shoulders. Thank God I didn't have to deal with that mess today. I brush my teeth and put on a little masara, pack my tiny backpack with sunglasses, cash, and a phone charger, and walk over to the girls.

"Hey, I'm gonna go head down to the lobby, the boys are probably waiting."

Mila and Steph whip their heads up, say they'll see us soon, and frantically turn back to changing and digging through luggage.

I walk down the dimly lit hallway and to the elevator, pressing the button for the first floor and pulling out my phone.

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Wow. That's a first, I think. I'll have to make a mental note to reply to some of those later tonight.

The elevator beeps and the doors open to reveal and white marble themed lobby. How expensive was it to build this place?!

"Lilah!"

I turn my head to see a wacky looking tourist waving violently at me. Holy crap that's Sebastian! I laugh and walk over to the group, unable to contain my laughter for much longer.

"You guys look like idiots," I say, giggling as scan each of their outfits. Sebastian is wearing a hawaiian button-down shirt with khakis and a baseball cap. Levi is decked out in an "I Heart LA" shirt and matching shorts with Seb, Christian is wearing a graphic tee with blue jeans and a fake lip ring that matches Giovanni's. Speaking of the devil, Giovanni is wearing a black tee shirt and sweats with a low-brimmed baseball cap. All the boys have sunglasses that are too big for their faces but I guess it's part of the disguise.

They roll their eyes and respond with a cacophony of "we know"s and "don't remind me." I giggle at them and grab my sunglasses out of my backpack, putting them on to match.

"At least I'm not letting you wear those ugly things alone," I tell them.

"Well at least you look good in them! We look like a bunch of bogans!" Sebastian whines out, crossing his arms like a child.

"Bogans?"

"Aussie slang," Levi adds in. "Means redneck, idiot, etc."

"Ohhhhhhhhh," I draw out. "Looks like I've got some slang to catch up on."

"Or you could just talk like a civilized person," Giovanni lowly adds in a sarcastic tone, the other boys sending him eye rolls and annoyed looks.

As I was about to come at him with some witty comeback, I hear giggles and shoe squeaks coming from behind. I send a wave in their direction as Mila and Steph walk over.