I'm Being Adopted by... One Direction?

Hate, Photo Shoots, and Deep Talks with Harry. *Ch. 34*

“Grace c’mon get out of bed!” I heard a voice whisper harshly into my ear.

I groaned, still swaddled into my warm blue knitted comforter, and turned over.

Opening one eye, I was shocked at what my pupil had shown me.

“Well hello there One Direction,” I breathed and shut my eye again also turning back over in my bed.

“You have a photo shoot, so get your arse up!” Louis’ voice screeched at me still impatient as ever.

“I’m coming gosh!” I said slowly peeling off the layers of blankets one by one. When my legs were free exposing me to the cold tour bus, I still felt another presence in the room. Slowly turning my head around, my ankle pivoting on the carpet, seeing Harry sitting there in the spare bed that was below Heather’s. Where was she anyway? He looked like he was debating on either being mad or sad a mental war going on in his head, pulling a hand through his curls then letting the arm hit his calve, his elbow resting on his knee.

“Harry,” I whispered, my voice cracking. I was about to ask why he was here, when he beat me to saying something.

“Why’d you say it?” He spat at me, his voice cold not showing any emotion towards me at all. He looked at me like I was some type of dangerous bacteria that killed you if you touched it. His face was getting pale, but then it would grow red with anger. He sighed and turned away from me and looked out of the window across from him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said playing back to everything that had happened in the past few days.

His neck looked like it broke at the rate it snapped towards me. His face fuming as he walked over to me and held my wrists against the wall, my back being thrown against the tour bus wall. His face was so close to mine that there wasn’t even an inch between our noses.

“To Brooke, you know exactly what you said.”

My breathing got hitched in my throat as I started into Harry’s eyes; they weren’t the green that practically every girl fawned over. They were the black, stone cold, empty, ice like color that I all to recognized, how I remembered them, they were the eyes I had worn on the first two months of my tour.

“You don’t understand,” My voice wasn’t right; it was the voice that contained the venom, the voice that contained the poison that shot through your blood steam when back lash was sent at you. It was that voice that I swore I wouldn’t use again. Unless in public when I had to act like the diva, the fame had gotten to my head people said.

“Sure as hell, I don’t understand what happened, and these bipolar personalities of yours! What is even up with those?!” He roared, releasing me and stepping away from me by two steps.

He looked at me as if I were a stranger now, that I was just some lost child that had wandered onto the bus. It wouldn’t surprise me; the new Grace had wandered into my life and started to thrash around in it. Creating currents and storms of mood swings, she had disturbed my little bubble of happiness. Now I was known as the party girl, the girl who liked to get drunk on weekends, the girl who would surely be knocked up by the age of 16. Those weren’t the facts though. All the clubs I had been too, were under 18 clubs. Not that the paps didn’t get a shot of the name and then I was framed at sneaking in illegally.

“You wouldn’t be able to comprehend half the things I have gone through!” Harry yelled throwing his hand down.

The room seemed to get smaller and smaller the room enclosing in on me, it was getting harder and harder to breathe. The room was like there was a ticking time bomb in here; it felt like I couldn’t get out even though there was a door behind me leading to the bathroom, or a few meters in front of me. It began to spin, random colors being splashed everywhere like a painter throwing the paint onto the blank canvass, causing my vision to be clouded.