The Project [Louis]

Chapter Four (Or White Boys Are No Good)

Once Harry is sound asleep, his mini-Harry covered by the thick hotel duvet, I slip out of the room and down the hall to Zayn's room. When I step in, Zayn is knocked out on the queen-sized bed wearing nothing but boxers and American Beauty is playing on the television. Classy. But, at least there's limited nudity (aside from the movie which is pretty much ninety percent nudity) in here, so I take a seat at the desk and open the MacBook resting on top of it, presumably Zayn's.

As soon as I open the laptop, an anime film resumes playing. I push my questioning thoughts aside because who even knows about what Zayn's motives are, and open Twitter. I look up Louise's handle and open her page, seeing immediately that her follower count has gone up from roughly one hundred a couple of nights ago to over eight thousand now. 

@Louis_Tomlinson so you're just not going to talk to me anymore okay

Clingy, am I right?

I mean, I do feel a little bad for not responding, but what was I supposed to do? Angry balding men were telling me why I'm terrible at living my life and everything that is wrong with me and I didn't have any time to compose a tweet. 

But, now I do have time, so I go to write up a tweet to Louise.

@louisemiller So sorry about that ... stuff was happening. But, I guess you can have a hug if

Shoot.

I just tweeted my unfinished tweet to eighteen million people.

There's already one hundred and thirty re-tweets.

Three hundred.

Eight hundred...

One thousand,

One thousand and -

Shoot.

"Zayn!" I yell, still staring at the computer screen. "Zayn Zayn Zayn! Get up!" The response I get is a resounding "Mmphnlmmmph."

"I'm serious! I just fucked up real good. Or bad. I don't know which one." I trail off.

"Of course you did. You're you." Zayn finally replies, muffled by a pillow. I sigh, scrolling through the already accumulating replies, many of which consist of omg what even and so confused rn lmao. Of course, there's one from Miss Always-Online Louise.

@Louis_Tomlinson wtf if what??

This might look like I did it on purpose. Yeah. Like I'm holding everyone in suspense. I mean, I hadn't actually thought of anything after the "if", so now I'll just think of something else to broadcast to the eighteen million people who've just seen my first screw-up.

Just as I'm at the very peak of this code red dilemma, Niall comes prancing into the room, singing at the top of his lungs and wearing nothing but his boxers (I swear to God this band could put on a strip show).

"I'm blonde, I'm skinny," Niall says in a prissy American accent,

Goddammit.

"I'm rich, and I'm a little bit of a bitch." He finishes with more grandeur than he's ever displayed at any of our shows, flinging his hands up in the air and popping his hip before looking at me and smiling like a maniac.

"Not in the mood, Donatella." I grumble, turning back to Zayn's laptop.

"What crawled up your ass?" I hear Niall say from behind me, and then the sound of bed springs squeaking as he apparently jumps onto the bed with Zayn.