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

Chapter Thirty-Nine: I Feel Like Dancin'

I woke up at quarter past eight on Friday, after hitting the snooze button on my phone at least four times. I got up and walked down to the kitchen, to see the boys all walking around like zombies, as I’m sure I was too. I felt like R as he walked through the airport, mumbling and groaning to every zombie that walked past. I made a bowl of Nutri-Grain as it seemed we’d obtained some more food. I sipped on my coffee for a full twenty minutes before I was spoken to for the first time that morning.

“How are you this morning Carrie?” Luke fell into the chair next to me, hugging his mug of caffeinated goodness.

“Pretty good. You?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Are you keen for today?”

“I don’t even know what we’re doing today.” I shrugged.

“We’re going to the studio, we have a few meeting things, of which I cannot tell you, and then we have a bit of a surprise.”

“What is it with you guys and surprises? There’s surprise after surprise after surprise.”

“What? Don’t you like surprises?”

“No, no, it’s not that, but you guys have put so much time and effort into making me happy and while that’s very sweet and I’m thankful for your efforts, I feel guilty about it. Your time, your money, your effort, for a girl you’ve only known a week.”

“Carrie, the thing is, over the last week we’ve gotten to know you. You’re ordinary. You’re extraordinary. You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to show my appreciation for the past nine days, because they have been legendary.” He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “And dress pretty. You don’t want to walk in and have them think you’re a hooker do we?” He winked and went upstairs.

I put my bowl and mug on the sink and went for a shower, washing the salt and chlorine from my hair and replacing it with the smell of fruit punch. Going thorugh my suitcase for things I hadn’t yet worn, I found a dress I’d bought from Forever 21 and hugged it’s smooth fabric before throwing it on. I put on my black heels with it because they looked the best, but decided to bring my Converses too, since they went with everything. I put my hair into a high ponytail and put a bit of makeup on before grabbing my handbag and throwing in my phone, wallet, notebook, camera and basically anything else I’d need.

“Whoa. I said pretty, not fancy.” Luke said as I met them at the front door. I made eye contact with him as I changed from heels to Converse there and then.

“Better?”

“Better.” We got into the van and Michael sat next to me as my stomach did backflips.

“You look gorgeous.” He smiled and I smiled back as I side-hugged him.

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“Ok. I will deny that first and foremost. Nothing is cuter than a Michael Clifford.”

“Not even an Ashton Irwin?” Ashton asked from the seat behind me.

“Sorry.”

“Not a Luke Hemmings at least?”

“Nope.”

“Is a Calum Hood cuter than a Michael Clifford?” He looked hopeful before I bluntly told him. “No.”

It was a crazy drive through Los Angeles. We pumped the tunes and we were all dancing in our sunnies. We are so cool. They started playing Animals by Martin Garrix and I started a fist pump party. Then Ashton decided to Keek.