The Existence of Carrie Griffith (5SOS) [Editing]

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Stockholm Sticks

Walking through Stockholm Airport as cameras flashed and girls screamed was an absolutely surreal experience. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Sure, I’d been through crowds of screaming girls before, but this was different. The whole atmosphere was completely different.

“Holy fuck!” Michael exclaimed beside me.

“Don’t swear.” I breathed in awe at the amount of people. They weren’t running at us but standing back, waiting for us to get to them. And get to them, we did. We walked up to the front people who said hello. I was given a lot of hugs and I fell in love with Swedish accents. I wanted to give the boys their moment and went on ahead, getting their suitcases from the baggage return. I met them half an hour later at a little café, me with a coffee between my hands, them with ruffled hair and exhausted looks on their faces.

“You all look like you just got laid.” I smirked.

“I wish.” Luke groaned.

“Ok let’s go.” Christophe caught up with us and led us out to a van taxi which would take us to the hotel. It was seven o’clock when we got out of there. We’d spent twelve hours travelling but because of time zones, it was morning for us again. I couldn’t stop yawning, neither could the band. Ashton kept snatching my large coffee and gulping it down like it was water. Through that though, we stared at our surroundings. Stockholm was beautiful. The buildings were… I couldn’t think of another word. They were also beautiful. The town belonged in a Disney movie. The city had a regal feel to it and I almost felt unworthy to be in the area. I looked at the boys to see they were also staring in wonder at this magical place. There were patches of snow in places along the pathways and in the trees. There were people on bikes, girls with perfect plaits completed with ribbons. It was such a change but it was a welcome change. “Wow,” was the only sound that broke through the silence.

“We have got to get out more.” Calum muttered.

“This is it.” Christophe said. The taxi pulled into a driveway that led up to the front door. I was gobsmacked. An immature, clumsy teenage girl was meant to stay here? “Grab your bags, come with me.” Christophe ordered. We scurried out to the back of the cab, grabbed our bags and followed him through to the pristine reception. Nothing was out of place. There was art everywhere. It was actually terrifying for an idiot like me. “Hello, yes I have a booking for Divordo. There should be four rooms with that name.” The receptionist serving him was gorgeous. She had the whitest smile I’d seen in quite a while and her blue eyes were bright against her light blonde hair which she’d pulled tightly pulled up into a perfect bun. The name Astrid was stitched into the chest of her shirt and she must have noticed my staring because she looked at me sideways.

“May I help you?” She offered a smile. I shook my head. “You have beautiful hair.” She said in her Swedish accent.

“Thank you. So do you.” I smiled back before I was pulled away by Michael.

Our rooms were on the second to top floor. Michael and Ashton were sharing a room, as were Calum and Luke. I had a room to myself and Christophe was sleeping alone too. Apparently a few other members of the 5SOS crew would be joining us the next day. Since the performance was on Monday and it was currently half past eight on Sunday morning, we had the day off. I changed into a pair of jeans and a collared top with my biker jacket. I pulled on my flat ankle boots and left my room.

“Where you off to gorgeous?” Who other than Michael greets me. He too has rugged up in a heavy black jacket.

“I don’t know. I was going to go for a walk.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course.” I winked and he went and told Ashton that the two of us were going to explore the city. He wanted to make sure we had our phones and had enough cash for a cab and also knew the name of the hotel. After convincing him we were fine we took the stairs to warm ourselves up. We started walking down the footpath and Michael got his fair share of looks. After all, red and black weren’t a natural hair colour together. I clung to his arm for warmth as we trudged.