Hot Mess | N.H. (discontinued)

t h i r t e e n [ 1 3 ]

Hot Mess:

c h a p t e r : t h i r t e e n  [ 1 3 ]

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"I'm worst at what I do best." -Kurt Cobain, 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'

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Emery

Hi, I'm Emery Sholes, and my life is a hot mess.

My life is like one of those messed up, Hollywood reality shows in which something also goes wrong and sends the next approximately seven days (but thirty minutes of our own lives) spiraling down to hell. You know, like that one time Snooki got punched in the face by a guy at the bar. Except my scenario is a little more traumatic.

Like, 'the One Direction boys almost saw me in the nude' kind of of traumatic. And let's face it—it was so horribly traumatic that I could easily write a piece about myself and publish it into a magazine.

But I'll be real here for a moment: their faces were priceless. My favorite one was Harry; while the four others lads were pulling shocked faces—Niall's as red as a tomato—Harry's lips were pulled into a lazy smirk and I'm pretty sure he sent a wink in my direction.

So, after what felt like a lifetime of embarrassment, I quickly pulled my act together once Niall had awkwardly cleared his throat and tugged at his shirt collar. I took that as a hinted signal to get the hell out of there, and I did. I scrambled to my knees and backed my way back into the bathroom, clumsily knocking into the door on the way in.

My face flushed red with embarrassment, I uneasily throw on the clothes that Niall had let me borrow. Of all the people in the world, why do the bad things always happen to me? I'm just a normal nineteen year old girl; what could I have possibly done wrong?

Shit, don't answer that question.

I splash some cold water onto my face in a lame attempt to flush away the redness on my face; no such luck. Heaving a loud sigh, I ponder on whether or not I should just go out there like nothing ever happened or stay in here locked in the bathroom until I'm positive I hear the shutting of a door, indicating that the boys have left, to save my ass from even more embarrassment. It's a good three me debating on it before I give in like the wimp I am and go with the latter.

And as if the angels above have heard me, I heard the sound of a door loudly shutting open and closed. Feeling as if a heavy weight has been released off of my chest, I heave yet another sigh from my mouth (this time in relief) and proceed towards the door. Even though I know that I am still going to be flustered when I confront Niall about this, but at least there won't be four of his closest friends there to watch the embarrassment that's about to go down.

Or so I thought.

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The piercing silence around me is almost enough to make me flip a table. And not only is it just completely silent to the point where you can hear a pin drop in another room, but the tension of awkwardness and stiffness in the air is horridly visible.

All four boys are seated ineptly across from Niall and I on the couch. From Harry on one side of the couch and Zayn on the other, they all look as equally as uncomfortable as the next person. Except for Louis; he looks quite satisfied with their unannounced arrival, as a faint smirk is placed across his pink lips.

And soon enough, Louis decides to open up his mouth and say what's on his mind (I knew this was going to happen eventually; he seems like the kind of guy to do what he wants whenever he wants): "I'm just going to put this out there—this is bloody awkward, mates."