the bucket list - h.s. (on hiatus)

chapter iii

H

I woke up early, around six o' clock, rubbing my eyes and yawning loudly.

After managing to pry Zayn and Niall off of me, I headed into the kitchen, which was clean; to my surprise. There were placemats in a neat stack on the corner of the countertop, with a blue journal resting on top of them.

My curiosity got the best of me and I found myself flipping through the pages, which were crinkled but had been written on. It was a numbered list.

A bucket list.

"What are you doing?" A soft voice asked from behind me, and I closed the small book. "Just, um-" Olivia was standing behind me, looking adorable as ever; a large red sweater hanging loosely on her small body, practically passing her kneecaps.

She didn't seem mad like most people would be; her face being impassive.

"Is this yours?" I held up the book, and she nodded, a smile breaking out onto her angelic face. "Yeah, I found it last week." I tried to hand it to her, but she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Don't worry, I'm not mad." Her small hand reached up to pinch my cheek gently before she walked over to the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice.

There was a tiny piece of paper sticking out of the side of the journal, placed neatly between two pages.

I tugged at it, and unfolded the piece of loose-leaf to see messy writing scrawled across the blue lines.

Liv-

I want you to write anything you want in this book. Do whatever your beautiful heart desires with this little journal. Hell, burn it if it makes you happy, because that's all I care about.

You being happy.

Once you've finished writing on every last page- front and back- I want you to give the book back to me. We can-

The rest was blurred away from water; possibly tears.

Olivia's tears.

"Hey, um are you hungry?" Her soft voice spoke up, snapping me out of my daze.

Her hazel eyes were brimmed with long, thick lashes. I decided then that Olivia with no makeup was my favorite Olivia.

"Yeah, I am. But I'll cook for you, don't worry." She parted her plump, pink lips, ready to object, but I stopped her by placing a finger to my own lips with a grin.

A groan sounded from behind us, and Olivia turned on her heel quickly- only to erupt into laughter.

Louis was slumped against the wall, his light-brown hair messy from bed-head. He had been drawn on by the boys with Sharpie. There was a penis scribbled on his forehead and other ridiculous doodles scattered among the poor boy's skin.

"What's so funny?" He snapped harshly, blue eyes glinting through his narrowed eyelids. "Before you freak out, I'll wipe it off." Olivia said after taking a photo of him and reaching up to wipe off his face with a washcloth.

She giggled as his hands tickled her sides, and I could practically feel myself burning with envy.

It was stupid, though. Why was I even jealous in the first place?

Louis wrapped his tattooed arms around her, lifting her tiny figure over his shoulder. "Hey mate," He winked at me before reaching into the fridge and grabbing the milk.

"Put me down!" Olivia shouted between fits of laughter, and after Louis did so, she hurried over to my side. "Harry, help me!" She exclaimed when he squirted whipped cream at her.