The Project [Louis]

Chapter Nine (Or Gay Bars and Such)

a/n: okay so i decided to keep zayn in this story because he's a character in my book. this isn't a biography; it's a work of fiction. thanks for reading and for waiting like seven million years for this update, i hope you enjoy!

ps. yeah it was my original intent to stray far off of the original story line of louise n louis, but the thing is that it'll be relevant in the end and that the title "the project" might have a literal and a figurative meaning.

It is a Sunday night and I am sitting next to Harry with a hood over my head in gay bar in San Antonio.

If anyone asks, I was drugged and kidnapped. I am not here on my own free will.

In reality, Harry just dragged me along. It went something like...

"Does anyone here have a foot fetish?" Liam asked while we were all burrowed away on the tour bus, all on our phones. Harry, Zayn and Niall had claimed the small couch while Liam and I were stuck on the floor at their feet.

"No?" We all cautiously answered.

"Why do you ask?" said Niall the Brave, or so I've named him to fit this situation.

"I just want to know what it's like to be turned on by someone's feet." Liam shrugged innocently.

"I swear to God, Liam. Why don't you just go and have someone lick your feet and see if you orgasm." I suggested, in what Harry's labeled as my Louis-is-an-obnoxious-know-it-all tone.

"Oh, fuck off." Liam grumbled and then we all went back to antisocial together, as a group of friends does.

I was going through the Twitter fan account that Zayn and I co-own. Honestly, we're amazing at being our own fans. We know everything about us.

"Is there actually a country called Albania?" Liam said.

"Honestly you're probably just better off not talking." I said at the same time as everyone else gave Liam a resounding "Yes!" which sounds like a question.

"But I though there was just Alabama." Liam almost whimpered.

"Just stop." I sigh, throwing my phone up at him.

"So there is an Albania." Liam tried to confirm and I jumped up on the couch to try and retrieve my cellular device. Harry saw me coming and tried to scramble out of my way. I swatted my phone out of Liam's hand and Harry took refuge on the floor, leaving me a spot on the couch, albeit cramped.

"Yes, there's an Albania." Zayn mumbled, not looking up from his phone.

And then more antisocial silence.

"I'm going out." Harry announced. Everyone looked up, because we do not "go out". Sure, we draw straws to see who has to go collect snacks from the kitchen and who gets to sit on the couch, but that's the closest thing to exercise that the lot of us get on a daily basis. I mean, other than jumping about on stage for two hours every night.