The Set- Up || 5SOS ||

Chapter Three

Flatten.

Roll.

Tuck.

How hard could that possibly be? 

Well, for a teenage boy, it's seems as though staring at a hotel wall was a lot more important then packing for another leg of their own tour. I glance over at Calum who was rolled on his side on the bed, his back in my direction.

"Cal."  I murmured, tossing a shirt onto him, thinking he'd roll over and actually do something productive. But the shirt just ended up flung over his shoulder, unnoticed. Wow, I'd been here for just over an hour and he had already fallen asleep.

"Boys..." I grumbled to myself, rolling my eyes as placing another carefully rolled piece of clothing into Calum's suitcase.

"What's that supposed to mean?" a sarcastic voice came from the crack in the door, "Wern't you taught not to judge?" 

"My bad..." I raised my hands, dropping one of Calum's ripped jeans.

It was Ashton. He strolled in and sprawled himself on the bed next to Calum's. 

"What is the deal with guys and your naps?" I teased, finally finished with Calum's packing and zipping up the suitcase. Man, how many clothes did that kid have?

"Hey." Ashton snapped, fake hurt, his eyes already drooping shut. "We don't question you people painting your face, you don't question our naps, a quiche?"

I made a face. A quiche? A pastry filled with cheese, meat and vegetables?

"Do you mean 'Capiche'? " I said, trying to contain the giggles bubbling inside of me, refusing to let them spill. Because first, I don't giggle. Second, Ashton laughs enough for the whole band put together. He wavered his hand in the air.

"Same thing."

"Whatever keeps your pride..." I joked, walking out of the bedroom and into the open space.

This hotel room alone was a worlds difference to my home, which just happened to be a two bedroom apartment with a toilet that just decides to forget how to flush at the worst times possible. 

With Calum and Ashton having their little catnaps in the bedroom, Michael wasn't in sight. But Luke was sat on the couch, his guitar leaning on the arm of it, a deep scowl impressed on his forehead, glaring at a notebook in his hand. I gave him a small, polite smile as I passed him, but he didn't even notice. He was too busy with what looked to be a staring contest with the inanimate object.

When I reached the kitchen, I made my way to the fridge and pulled out a jar of pickles. I munched happily on my pickle, examining the boy that seemed way to serious to be in a band with 'summer' in the name of it.

"Enjoying that pickle?" a voice said, catching me by surprise. I jumped round, coming face to face with Michael, the pickle still in my mouth and it's juice trailing down my chin. He looked as if he'd just gotten out of the shower, only wearing a beige towel around his waist and the same smug smile that Calum always had. I broke the pickle off with an incredibly audible crunch, wiping the drool of off my chin.

"You realize how odd you look, right?" he said, rubbing his wet hair with another, smaller towel. " Watching the back of Luke's head while sucking on a pickle." Okay first, I was munching, not sucking- two different things. And second,

"I wasn't watching him!" I protested, not wanting his first impression of me to be one of those people who just stare at others, with a habit of sucking on vinegar soaked vegetables. "He's just a little..." I snapped my fingers, trying to find a word, if any, that fit in what I was trying to say.