Happily

Chapter Eleven: Tattoos

Back at the hotel Zayn suggested we ask Mrs. Sivan if we could attend the ‘Paradi Beach Party.’ We insisted Marcel join but he didn’t seem so keen on it.

“It only ends at midnight Mrs.!” Niall begged. “We’re seventeen not seven! Please!” But Mrs. Sivan shook her head and crossed her arms. “There will drinking and in America you’ve ‘ought to be eighteen. Sorry loves. Besides, I can’t have you lot getting drunk away from the UK and your parents.” Liam and I looked away in defeat just as Marcel sighed in relief. Stan groaned and Niall… Niall wasn’t having it.

“We’re not going to be getting drunk! Swear it! Cross our hearts on the flag of Britain, tell her Stan!”

“We swear it Mrs.” Stan smiled. “Not even a drop of alcohol.”

Mrs. Sivan narrowed her eyes. “Really Mr. Lucas. You’d think I’ll believe you?”

“Well, why not? Innocent and young!” He smiled sweetly.

“Young? Yes. Innocent, no. Must I remind you of sophomore year? You, Tomlinson, and Grimshaw? Got the whole staff involved in your little dottish act.”

Stan blushed and walked off quickly. I closed my eyes and swore ‘ah fuck.’ That year was quite possibly the worst I blamed Grimshaw mostly. Marcel was looking at me inquisitively, and I shook my head.

“Eh let’s go to the room Marce, it’s a lost case.” He nodded and followed me to the elevator. Liam quietly followed Marcel. I looked back to see Mrs. Siva smiling sourly at Niall as he went off on a random rant, Zayn silently staying at his side. “You may visit the beach, fine! But I don’t want you at any party you hear me? Horrible you lot.” Niall stuttered some sort of ‘fine thanks’ but I couldn’t hear as the elevator doors closed in front of us.

            The room was freezing cold. “Oh my,” Marcel breathed. “A bit chilly yeah?” I laughed as his casualty. “Fucking hell, it’s bloody freezing!” I responded, watching the other boy’s cheeks flame and eyes widen. I laughed again and got a strange warm feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t something I’d felt before but I left it alone. Marcel coughed a hacking cough- similar to the one earlier and I began to worry. “You sure…?” He looked at me and smiled. “I’m fine thanks.” He said. I knew better though, and checked the thermostat. I clicked the ‘Celsius’ button on the screen and it flashed ‘8 Celsius’ on the screen.

“Shit!” I exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Marcel approached with a raspy voice.

“Someone got in and turned on the air condition so now the room is about eight Celsius. And you sound horrible. Let’s go outside, it’s warm.”

He nodded and stepped into the hallway after me, door clicking with a shut. “I’ll be right back, gotta visit the lobby downstairs real quick,” Marcel informed, stepping into the elevator. I nodded and leaned against the hallway wall.

            “Little chilly in there, eh?” Nick Grimshaw stepped outside. He smiled and I growled. “You went in and changed the temp? You idiot!” He shrugged. “Had to give you a little wake up call,” he shuffled through his pocket and pulled out a key. “Left your room key where it isn’t supposed to be,” he winked, handing it to me. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the key.

“Marcel was freezing and coughing- ah, sorry, I mean, yeah. He was cold. But I  was freezing my arse off. Twat.” Nick snorted. “Well sorry, but I’m sure your arse will be alright. Captain of the footie team can survive a little cold. Marcel though, hmm… He can shack up with me? It’s warm.”