Chapter 4

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Loud noises stir me out of my sleep, making me crack an eye open. I slowly start to comprehend the sound as shouting, the shouting clarifying as the boys fighting. I lift my head; one eye still closed as I attempt to open it. I peel it open, peeking out the curtain.

"Are you seriously fighting at..." I drift off, blindly reaching behind me for my phone. I grab it, checking the time, squinting at the bright screen. "It is almost seven in the morning! Are you kidding me?" I demand, staring at all of them. "Luke took the last bagel!" Michael complains, pointing to Luke. "It's the first day of the tour, are you serious? There's like seven bags of bagels in each bus!" I say, grabbing my glasses and climbing out of the bunk, and going over to the cupboards. I look through them, tossing them a full bag of bagels. "Thank you!" Ashton tells me with a smile. I roll my eyes, nodding.

The bus slows, all of us looking outside to see we have arrived in Montreal. "Why didn't we have to show passports?" I ask, Luke shrugging. "They probably know we all have passports and aren't going to do anything except perform," Ashton says, putting the bag of bagels away.

"Ready to head in?" Calum asks, finishing his bagel. He looks around at all of us, waiting. I nod, Luke nodding as well. "Yeah." Michael and Ashton say, leading the way. I pull on a sweatshirt and grab a bag, stuffing an outfit in before following after them. "What about Canada? Any of you been here?" I ask, avoiding the people's looks. They shake their heads, signing things, and taking pictures. I go inside, watching through the window.

They look like they could be out there for a while, so I decide to change, putting on running shorts and a tank top, braiding my hair, and brushing my teeth. I quickly, okay not that quickly, do my makeup, heading out. I see Rachel heading this way, but I don't think she sees me, so I duck back into the bathroom, going into a stall and standing on top of the toilet.

She comes in, sounding like she was talking to someone. "It's only been half a month; I still have time!" She says, going into a stall. I don't hear anyone respond, making me frown. Was she on the phone and peeing? Disgusting!

"Just give me a couple more days to think of something! Calm down!" She says. Yup. Talking on the phone and peeing. The toilet flushes, but she doesn't leave the stall, my legs growing tired from crouching. Just leave already! You've done your business. There are the sink and the door. Now leave.

I hear the sound of puke, making me gag. I try to block it out as I take off my shoes and get down from the toilet, trying to leave the bathroom as quietly as possible. Once I'm out the door I pull on my shoes and run, looking around for my brother. I'm pulled into a closet, a light turning on above me. I quickly look around, relaxing when I find it to be the boys.

"Was pulling me into a closet necessary?" "Always." Michael nods. I cock an eyebrow at him, frowning. "Your face was hilarious! I wish I had videoed it." He says with a grin.

Ashton holds up a magazine; a frown etched into his features. The front-page picture shows me running with Luke to the tour bus, both of us laughing. "What?" I ask, confused. "Your mom asked us to keep you out of the spotlight. She isn't going to be happy that you're front page. There's a three-page article talking about you being at the show and guessing who you were with or if you were a groupie." "Three pages? How in the world did they do a three-page article on me in less than 24 hours!" "It gets kinda ugly..." Calum says, opening up to the story.

I scan through it, reading untrue things about me. How because I had come off my brothers' bus when we had arrived then gotten onto the guys' bus later that I must be sleeping with everyone and it disgusts me. "They don't even know me," I mutter, leaning against the door.

"They don't have to. The magazines write what people want to hear." Michael says, distaste in his voice. "A downside to fame." The others nod in agreement, sighing. "I'm sorry Dylan," Ashton says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "What's done is done. I can't exactly change it, and no one exactly has time to interview to correct the magazine so whatever." I shrug.

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