The Little Shop

The Party

The Party, in which we dance with AJ and we have ice cream... (and attend a party)

SASSMASTER

Maybe it was me getting too attached again, but I was having second thoughts about AJ getting her hair cut. I've never had long enough hair to know for sure, but is it really a big deal if there's a huge knot in her hair? She could just wear it up all the time and nobody would have to know...

"Lou, we're here," Liam says, nudging me in the rib. AJ's sliding out of the car in the seat between us and I quickly follow.

"Are you sure you want to have your hair cut? It's okay if you don't. We can just go straight to the party and be a bit early," I offer. I'm secretly hoping that AJ doesn't want her hair cut, and I can't even imagine why. 

"I can just have the lady give me another bun, you know," AJ tells me with a smile. Are we sure she's only seven? She's a bit perceptive and clever for seven. I smirk and nod. "Let's go!" She cheers, taking hold of my left hand and Zayn's right. I can't help but laugh as she drags us along, giggling and skipping. She must really like her new dress as well, because she keeps smoothing down the fabric and walking in a way that'll make the skirt twirl, swiveling her hips back and forth so the metallic fabric catches the light.

AJ giggles as we walk through the front doors. The bell above our heads jingles and the ladies inside perk up.

"Do you have an appointment?" a bored-looking woman at the front asks, smacking her gum inside her mouth.

"Yeah, we made it under Tomlinson," Liam tells her. She types in 'Tomlinson' in the computer and then nods.

"You can take a seat in the third chair."

"Thank you," AJ tells her, waving as we do what we're told. With small, reluctant steps, I carry AJ over to the third chair and place her in it. The second she's out of my arms, my hands go to the back of my neck; an uncomfortable instinct. "Louis, it's okay. I really do want my hair cut," AJ promises, smiling widely. 

"Okay," I say, nodding. "Okay..." 

"Lou, why don't we go change clothes? We've got to go straight to the party after this." Zayn suggests, grabbing my forearm. Before I can protest, Marcy follows us to the restroom and hands us our tuxedos, covered up by one of those coat-thing-a-ma-bobs. I don't know what they're called. Does anyone, really? I mean, they cover your clothes when they're on a hanger. Do they even have a name, I mean, it seems like nobody ever- "Lou, you okay?"

"Fine, fine," I say quickly, taking my tux from Marcy and shutting the door. I opt to not speak to Zayn any longer, because I'm for some reason having a very hard time thinking properly. Surely this isn't because of some silly haircut that I'm not even getting! I mean, she said she wanted her hair cut... isn't that enough?

Niall slips through the door a second later. "I've been banished," he announces, shutting the door and wasting no time making small talk. He pulls off his shirt and jeans and unzips the coat thing. I follow his lead. Frowning at my tux. 

"This isn't mine," I say instantly. "Too long and... er, narrow."

"Must be Liam's, then. It's got an 'L' on the cover," Zayn tells me. He's buttoning up his shirt, a plain white one. I think we've all got the exact same suit, minus the little pocket squares. Is that what they're called? Pocket squares? The little squares of fabric you fold up and put in your pocket. 

"Why don't I know what anything is called?" I wonder aloud. "MARCY!"

"What?" Marcy says, sticking her head into the room. None of us even flinch; Marcy's seen us in less than our boxers many a time.