W O N D E R W A L L [ m.h ]

11

Super long chapter. I think it's the longest one I've written. 

I am super, super, super worried that you might not like it but I've been postponing this for too long. There is no tweaking and editing that I can do anymore because once I have the idea, I just stick with it.

Read, enjoy, comment and vote!

**

We are at the bar.

Sheila's brows creased together in confusion on the text she received from George not a while ago. She looked up once again, her eyes meeting with quite few people and she stepped on her tiptoes, overlooking the packed space in front of her.

The pub, where they were supposed to meet was extraordinary. Large windows occupied the greater part of the wall – opposite the bar that spanned the entire length of the room. Dimmed lights were giving a mysterious vibe and soft music played through the speakers – just loud enough to override the cheering crowd.

Sheila first noticed Ross, leaned on the bar next to Adam who was sitting on a barstool, both of them looking at George as he animatedly talked about something. He was waving his free hand around while nursing a bottle of beer in his other one.

As confidently as possible, Sheila made her way through the crowd, unzipping her leather jacket and muttering silent excuses that were dismissed by the people she accidentally brushed with her shoulder.

Stepping closer, her eyes met with Ross and he smiled at her, nudging George in the forearm and pointing at Sheila with his head.

The tall guy turned around, his eyes squinting as he smiled and he opened his mouth, the lyrics almost habitually coming out, "Sheila take a, Sheila—"

"—If you start singing it," she cut in, "I swear I am going to whack you with something." Sheila said with a silly grin and then hugged three of them, gasping a little when George lifted her slightly from the ground.

Just then, after George dropped her down on her own feet and she finally steadied her unbalanced self, she noticed another guy sitting next to Adam.

Sheila politely smiled at him, reaching her hand out. She recognised him from the pictures she posted all these weeks but they never met officially. "Sheila," she said with a grin. "I am the one who pretends to be you on social media."

He outstretched his hand and grabbed Sheila's in a friendly handshake, putting a lock of his hair behind his ear.

"I'm John. I play the sax and I am usually in the background," he grinned, "but come to think of it, so is George and he says that he gets panties thrown at him all the time."

Sheila laughed, sliding her beanie from her head, her messy fringe covering her eyes so she quickly brushed them away.

"He's lying," Ross chuckled. "He should get over himself," he added, taking a sip of his beer – grinning as he did so. "He is not as cool as he thinks he is."

"I will pretend that I didn't hear that," George replied, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He then reached a beer to Sheila with a smile, "There you go, love, I ordered it for you," he mumbled with his fag hanging from the corner of his lips. "You had a good trip to here?"

Sheila let out a snort but nodded anyway. Just then she noticed that there was a person missing in their small circle and her head titled to the side in curiosity.

"Where's Matty?" she asked before she could stop herself.

George took a sip of his beer and lifted his burning cigarette close to his mouth. "He's going to be a bit late."