I Want Crazy (Harry Styles)

CHAPTER 4

"Na-a-ah." I heard the bitch spoke. "We're not yet done, Styles."

I glared at her while she smirks to herself.

"Get us drinks. There's a near Starbucks in a corner." she instructed.

"What?" I said for the umpth time of the day.

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I heard you. But I mean, why?"

She rolls her eyes, "D.A."

"Do I have a choice?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll get those drinks, madame."

"Call me that again and I'll make sure you won't have an offspring."

I can't help but be amused. Now I know how to piss her off.

"I meant it, Styles." she narrowed her eyes at me. "I know what you're thinking."

"I'm not saying anything." I waved at her and walk backwards, away from her and towards the entrance.

"Anyways, when I said 'get us drinks' I meant everyone in this very room." she spoke up and I was about to protest when she continued, "And buy some pastries as well."

"You're demanding like it'll all come from your own pocket." I told her but she only smirks.

"Complaining? You got loads in your pocket so that'll probably cost a penny for you."

"I don't have to be reminded I have the money in the world."

"Oh c'mon, Mr. Conceited. I don't really give a shit about your damn money."

   

Now I have another pet name. Well, better than 'fucktard'.

"Thought so, Miss Sassy." I winked at her which given another set of rolling her eyes.

I walked out of the large room as I heard her once more; this time talking to the people inside which include my band mates. Speaking of them, they didn't even interject to our whole conversation. Are they some kind of our audience? Not so One Direction. Commonly they'll join in a conversation to mess up but this time, they didn't. Are they too intimidated with her? They shouldn't be because I'm not.

I walk out of the building and to the parking lot, got in my car and drive to the cafe. If I'll be buying drinks for everyone then I'd be needing my car. The digital clock inside my car reads 8:17. Wow. I've spent seventeen minutes... Oops. I rathes say, sixteen minutes -minus the sixty seconds I was late- of my time arguing with the bitch. And wow, again. I keep calling her a 'bitch' as if it's her given name.

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"C'mon, Louis! Pick up the damn phone." I mumbled.

So basically, I've been waiting impatiently for five minutes here in my car. I've called Louis' phone for multiple times but I've been redirected to his voicemail. I need help to carry these twenty cups of brewed coffee along with the two bags of assorted muffins.

I remember how the barista smiled at me with all sunshines and rainbows but gawked at me like I've grown two heads when I asked her to make twenty cups of their famous coffee for take out. The number was estimated by me for I didn't know how many we are. She might thought I was on for some coffee party with the amount of cups but it's not on my priority list to care. Because right now, I'm too damn pissed off for wasting an hour and a half for the 'bitch's' demands instead of me, being inside and rehearsing for the upcoming tour.