Chapter Five: Whipped
Hayes hadn't forgotten Beatrice from a few nights prior and Beatrice had yet to discover why Hayes was being so sketchy, so basically, they both had yet to forget about the sincere adventure and the late night talk.
Beatrice had gotten home safely from the mountainside at precisely three in the morning and she made sure to take her pleasant walk in a safe way. She weaved her way through streets and completely disregarded the block with the local pub placed on the corner. In fact, she stayed exactly 30 feet away from the block itself.
Hayes, on the other hand, obviously hadn't learned his lesson as his head began to pound from the steady alcohol drive running in his veins. His bright blue eyes were at a squint and his plump, pink lips were parted in disgust as the taste of cheap alcohol burnt his taste buds.
Nash Grier, Hayes' older, wiser, brother had chosen the easy way out of things and sat on the red couch Beatrice had marked hers (a giant pink 'x' marked her spot in Lily's pink lipstick) and stayed away from the alcohol bar that rested in the corner. Nash was responsible for Hayes when he was in Los Angeles, although Hayes would protest considering he's twenty-one, and it was his responsibility to make sure their fame slate was completely drama-free.
Hayes collapsed on the red couch, right on Beatrice's acquired seat, and began slurring words together. His head began to fall on Nash's shoulder and his fingers wouldn't stop the repetitive poking motion to Nash's side; that's when Nash knew party time was over.
"Hayes," Nash spoke slowly, making sure he was heard right, "go get the boys. We have to go home." Nash stood up with Hayes' arm wrapped around his shoulder and weaved his way through the hundreds of dancing strangers. He instantly spotted his best friend Cameron on the other side of the bar, completely sober and trying his hardest to remove a blonde sitting on his lap.
Cameron's eyes connected with Nash's and he began to mouth the words 'help me'. Nash rolled his eyes and looked from Hayes to Cameron, Hayes to Cameron, and Hayes to Cameron. Obviously, his plate was full with Hayes.
Hayes leaned opposite of Nash and grabbed a brunette's hand, flashing a bright smile her way. She was completely hammered as well and you could tell just by the way she was standing. Her leg was out and her arms were trying to steady her, but to her side was what looked like a best friend holding her still. The best friend glared at Hayes and snatched the brunette's hand away from his.
Nash noticed and he sent a glare to his younger sibling, beginning to walk out of the bar with Hayes dragging himself behind him. "Sit," Nash hissed, placing Hayes on the curb outside. It was still early in the morning, meaning he needed to hurry up with getting a ride home before the paparazzi showed up.
"Nash," Hayes slurred, his eyes spinning, "where's Beatrice? Is she still inside?"
Nash rolled his eyes, dialed a number into his phone, and pressed it to his ear.
"Nash," Hayes groaned louder, "where is Bea?"
"This is ridiculous, Hayes."
"Where is she?"
Nash shushed Hayes for the final time as he spoke incoherently into the device. It was a struggle getting the person on the other line to hear what he was saying with the booming music mocking his every word.
Cameron stumbled outside with five people, each of them dazed and drunk. "Managed to find these ones in there."
Hayes could barely think straight, but he could recall the five other people as Jack Gilinsky, Jack Johnson, Matthew Espinosa, Aaron Carpenter, and Sammy Wilkinson.
"The limo should be here any minute. I hope you all know how much you're going to regret this in a couple hours." Nash shoved the black phone in his pocket and pulled back his wavy hair into a small man-bun. The black leather jacket he was wearing over his plain white shirt was making hot and the ripped, black skinny jeans he paired with them didn't help either.
Soon, a stretched limo pulled up in front of the club and to their misfortune, three paparazzi vehicles followed behind quickly. Nash cursed under his breath and began shoving the boys into the the car one-by-one. Once they were all in, he shut the door quickly as a female with a camera began taking pictures beside the window. "Haul it!"
Hayes' mind somehow traveled back to the picture of Beatrice and he couldn't help a smile that bit at his lips, "Her hair was purple and she had these blue eyes; probably bluer than mine."
Cameron's eyebrows pulled together as a small snicker fell unto the quiet space, "who?"
"Some girl named Beatrice. He wouldn't shut up about her."
"She was nice and she loved the stars and she lived in Chicago and she was astonishing-"
Cameron laughed loudly, "Dude, you're whipped."
Nash shoved Cameron's shoulder, "leave him alone, he's growing up."
"I'm not whipped, I barely know the girl," Hayes growled. His mood seemed to take a three-sixty-degree turn for the worst.
Matthew groaned, his hand pressuring his temple, "shut up for a second."
"Whatever," Hayes whispered, looking out the window as he began to daydream about the mistress. Maybe he was whipped.
