The Project [Louis]

Chapter Seven (Or zaynHeartsNothing)

In case you were wondering, Zayn ended up taking a plane to Vegas and getting there even before we did.

Karma, eh?

Anyway, the four of us were given a lecture over Skype on why we should not forget members of our band in El Paso - or any other cities, for that matter - ever again, and why it is wrong to leave members of our band behind in hotels while on world tours.

I mean, we're not five years old.

Anyway, we're about an hour from Vegas now, with three hours until the iHeatRadio Music Festival. So, three hours until Harry has the possibility of encountering Taylor Swift.

Sorry, but I'm crying and laughing at the same time because believe it or not, that relationship wasn't set up. Harry literally asked her - Taylor Swift - on a date when we were at the Kids Choice Awards, of all places. Now, you'd think that our homosexual hero would have gotten over that whatever-that-was by now, but whenever the subject or even her name is brought up he gets all squirmy and uncomfortable and starts showing whoever's in the room how he learned to balance a spoon on his nose. He's avoided her at ever award show and such since.

I guess I have to respect him. Like, if you're Harry Styles and you need a beard, then why the fuck not make it Taylor Swift?

So, with that thought in mind as I'm watching television on the tiny little set we have in the bus, an ad for the iHeartRadio Music Festival comes on, playing a track of Shake It Off in the background.

From somewhere in the back of the bus, Niall yells something which is either an exclamation in Hindi or the beginning of The Circle of Life.

Simultaneously, Zayn yells "Shut up!", Liam yells "Not again!" and I just yell to join in. Soon enough, Harry catches on from the kitchenette and starts yodelling and then the bus is just one big yell-fest.

"Everyone shut up!" The bus driver yells over all of us. Everyone shuts up.

I turn to my laptop, which is lying open on the couch next to me. I pull in onto my lap and tap the cursor to make the screen flash on. I've turned off my Twitter notifications, so I have to check everything manually.

I look through my mentions and all. Most people have chilled out about Louise. Those who haven't chilled out want her to drop dead, but Louise has responded to those people with a tweet claiming that if anyone tries to kill her they will bounce and rebound off of her super-boobs.

Girls, right?

Anyway, I'm supposed to figure this whole thing out. 

I'm also supposed to pose some kind of recognition of Canadians.

Motherfucking Canadians, to be exact.

I mean, what the hell am I to do about the lot of them? I ate poutine in Toronto, isn't that enough?

"Hey, Harry?" I look up over the tpo of my laptop at Harry, who's still standing in the kitchenette on his phone.

"Oui?" He looks up, answering in French, which I guess is appropriate to my upcoming question.

"Do you have any thoughts on Canada?" I ask,

"It's pretty cold." He shrugs, "And we only did one tour date there this year. I mean I guess it was two, but they were both in Toronto."

"Do you think we could put in more dates for next year if I pushed it?" 

"Maybe. But management doesn't really like you, so I dunno." Harry says, making a valid point.

"I know they don't like me, but -" I don't get to finish my sentence, because my phone chooses that very moment to ring. It's Zayn.

"What's up, bitch?" He asks casually as soon as I pick up.

"What's up with you, bitch?" I laugh. Harry gives me a who-are-you-calling-bitch kind of look.

"I'm at the hotel here. Without you. Because you forgot me in Texas. But there was a hot tub and champagne in the room, so guess where I am?" 

"Dripping wet on the balcony, naked with a bottle of champagne?" 

"You know me!" Zayn exclaims, as Harry gives me another look, this time seeming to say don't-have-phone-sex-with-me-in-the-room.

"Hold on. Harry thinks we're having phone sex." I tell Zayn before standing up, walking over to Harry, lightly slapping him across the face, and whispering "Horny bastard" at him before sidling back to the couch. 

"So, basically, I'm hoping that no tween girls get pictures of me naked on the balcony." Zayn explains,

"Now that's something I don't hear every day." I laugh again. "Bro - just don't, like, masturbate yourself to death on the balcony or anything and you'll be totally okay."

"Bro, good advice. You don't masturbate yourself to death either." He responds.

"Bro."

Then comes an awkward silence.

"Masturbate on your own time, please." Harry requests, and I sigh dramatically.

"Harry says I need to masturbate on my own time." I tell Zayn.

"Tell him that he's not the boss of you." Zayn tells me.

"You're not the boss of me!" I tell Harry.

"If you're going to masturbate, I'm gonna leave now." Harry tells me. I fake unzipping my pants with my free hand and Harry lets out a squeaking noise before frantically covering eyes, dropping his phone into a bowl of soup which is resting on the counter next to him. Without questioning why there's a bowl of soup on the counter, I roll my eyes.

"Calm down!" I tell Harry, ignoring Zayn on the phone, who claims that he's going to hang up if I don't tell him what's going on before hanging up.

"God damn it - I hate you! Now there's all this white creamy stuff in my phone." Harry whines, picking his iPhone out of the bowl.

"That's what she said." I can't contain my smile. Harry looks confused for half a second, but then his face contorts into a disgusted expression, at which I snort at.

"I - that's - I'm gay!" Harry says, just as Liam walks in and looks at Harry with the most shocked expression I've ever witnessed. Aside from maybe in Harry Potter when Harry finds out he's a wizard.

"L-Louis! I said my birthday's on the same day!" Harry yells, his voice cracking, "The same day! The same day!" He repeats, "Exact same day as Lauren Conrod." He says to Liam, wagging a finger in Liam's face for no apparent reason.

"I am going to go pee." Liam says loudly, still looking completely shocked and confused, before walking past the two of us to the other end of the bus where the bathroom actually is not.

"Why did you do that?" Harry violently whispers.

"I didn't do anything!" I whisper back, with equal violence.

"It's no wonder Zayn doesn't want to talk to you." Harry scoffs, turning away from me and back to his creamy-white-stuff-covered phone.

a/n: thank you for all the comments! votes and comments are very much appreciated i love every single person who decided that this story is worth a couple minutes of their time bye!