Rebel, Rebel. (h i a t u s)

▲c h a p t e r t h r e e ▲

I was standing in front of the thick black door that had bright golden numbers, 203, imprinted on it. The handle of the door was a fine golden that matched the numbering. I grabbed hold of the cold handle, assuming the door would be unlocked, I gave it a shove. Unsuccessful, I ended up crashing my sore body into a door that refused to budge. I stood back and groaned at the aching pain as it engulfed the side of my body. Within moments I heard the clinking of locks and the door was wide open, revealing my worried twin sister.

She wasn’t her usual bubbly self anymore. She had a cold expression, her lips in a deep frown.

“Trinnitie Myer! Where have you been!?” Her voice was so dainty; I couldn’t help but smile when she tried scolding me. I now know why people can never take my dark pessimistic attitude too seriously. She moved to the side, clearing way for me to go into our hotel room. She closed the door quickly behind her, and sprinted to catch up with me.

“I mean it, Trin, where were you? You look hurt!” She sat down on the plush white sofa that was in the living room of the hotel. She patted the seat besides her, motioning for me. I sat down and just looked at her.

It was like looking at a reflection of myself. Saying we were identical was an understatement. The only difference between us? Her eyes were a light brown hazel. While mine sparkled green. It was ironic, because I’m the one with a realistic and frankly pessimistic outlook on life, and she sees through rose tinted glasses ‘round the clock. Besides the two, we were both of the same short height. Our eyes the same shape, even our lips curled in the same way. We both had slight dimples. We were so alike that that our teeth even had the same flaws. We both had velvety red hair. Hers a bit darker than mine, a more calm color, it matched her eyes a little more. Some could even say our hair looked like red velvet cupcakes, and I wouldn’t disagree.

I stared at the ground, not sure where to start on the not so pleasant elevator ride and my run in with One Direction. So instead of talking I just stared at the ground, hoping that she’d just drop the question. But knowing Carmen, she wouldn’t. She wanted to know what happened, and she’d want details too.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I looked up at her, “I got stuck in the elevator.”

Her eyebrows twitched, “You were stuck in the elevator?”

“I was stuck in the elevator for two hours. With boys from that band that you’re in love with,” I rolled my eyes.

“One Direction? No you weren’t. NO YOU WEREN’T!” She leaped up and gently shoved my shoulder.

The plain look on my face told her that I wasn’t joking, in the least. Her face lit up in amusement, and I knew that I’d be flooded with questions. She sat right next to me, that smile beaming across her face.

“So did you get to see them naked?” She whispered.

“Why are you whispering? We’re the only ones in this room, Carm.” I laughed, “And no, I didn’t see them naked. That Zayn guy pinched my thigh though.”

Her jaw dropped and a loud shriek escaped her lips as she shook her head from side to side, “ZAYN MALIK PINCHED YOUR THIGH, NO WAY!”  Her hands were shaking all around and she shouted and bounced up and down on the plush sofa. I turned and quickly grabbed her hands and tried to steady her bouncing, but it did no good.

“Carmen! It isn’t that serious,” I was beginning to laugh now; she was like a kid at Christmas.

After a few minutes she calmed down, and then flopped backwards onto the sofa. She sprawled out, her cheeks red and a smile still plastered on her face, “I can’t believe we’re in the same hotel as One Direction.”