The Boyfriend Log (A 1D Fan Fiction) - ON HOLD

Chapter 3: London, Crappy Hotels, and Ex's

By the time we get back to Maddie’s house, she’s still babbling about her outfit. It’s an outfit for God’s sake!

I close the car door and attempt to block out Maddie’s nonsense ramble. We walk inside the old looking tan house and say our hellos to Emily and the boys before going up to Maddie’s room.

"What if I wore my white shorts and pink blouse?" she asks from inside her closet.

"Too dressy," I reply laying back on the bed, knowing exactly what clothes she’s referring to.

"How about my flowery sundress?"

"I wouldn’t wear that to a concert, Maddie."

"What about that strapless white top?"

"I thought you wanted the striped t-shirt!"

She groans, "I give up!" and she collapses on the bed beside me. The mattress springs squeak in protest.

I sit up and lean on my elbow, looking at her brown hair which is all over the place on her bed, "Why are you so worried? You’re not going to meet them. No offense."

She thinks about this for a moment before answering, "None taken, but I feel like I’m obligated to look somewhat attractive."

"Well of course you are!" I say, "I'm not saying to show up in sweats and a stained shirt."

She giggles, "Can you pick my outfit out then?"

"Sure, how do you want to look?" I ask. This frequently happens; I pick out her outfits by the persona she wants to be. It’s almost become a game between us.

"Hmmm," she ponders this before saying, “I want to look relatable to the boys, yet sophisticated. Sexy but not slutty. Think you can handle it?"

I wink, "I can handle anything."

She chucks a pillow at me, "Eww! You’re perverted!"

I pick it up and throw it back, giggling, "You’re the one who suggested that I was thinking of that!”

I go into the closet, Something like the boys... I fish through the hangers until I find the shirt I’m looking for, a white one with horizontal maroon stripes on it.

I may not be a huge fan of them, but Maddie’s shown me enough pictures and videos for me to know their clothing styles. Har-Har Styles. No pun intended.

I look for her pair of black skinny jeans with tears along the thigh of one leg and the knee of the other. I throw various clothing items onto the floor. I feel as though I’ve gone through the entire closet when I see them on the top shelf, underneath a pile of clothes.

Absentmindedly, I pull at them, but they won’t budge. Come on arm muscles, don’t fail me now! I tug once more and send the pile of clothes cascading down on me. I squeal in shock, hidden under all the clothes.

Maddie comes in after hearing all the noise I made and starts laughing her head off. I pull the clothes off myself and see her on the ground clutching her stomach, gasping for air; her brown hair is a mess in her face. I join her, laughing until I feel like I’m about to pee my pants or cry or both. And it feels good to laugh, like really laugh for the first time in a long time.

We finally die down and Maddie asks in mock horror, "What did you do?"

"I was looking for some pants!"

"All I’m saying is that this had better be a damn good outfit," she says cracking a smile.

"You’ll be pleased!" I reply searching through the pile for the pants which went missing after everything came tumbling down on me.