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.
Luke's phone starts ringing, all of us jumping. "Sorry, one second." He says, letting out a short groan. He leaves the closet, all of us staring at him. "Well, he seemed annoyed by the caller." I chuckle, all the guys turning to look at me. Ashton shrugs, dropping his arm off my shoulder. "It's probably his publicity stunt girlfriend. He despises her." "Then why doesn't he just break up with her? That's completely unfair to him." I point out.
"They have a year-long contract right now. Neither can break it and you being on this magazine doesn't help anything. That's probably why Lana called, and now Luke is going to hear an earful from not only her but our manager, the attorney attached to this little agreement, or whoever, and probably a lot of other people. Be ready for a grumpy Luke." "She sounds gross and clingy. If it's an arranged kind of thing, she shouldn't have to worry about this, only the manager people should."
"She likes him, and that's how this whole thing worked out, so she's going to question him and threaten to break up with him. The works. Their relationship is a full time, all day soap opera." Calum laughs.
Luke walks back in, stuffing his phone into his pocket. "I want to strangle her! I couldn't get a damn word in them all of a sudden she hangs up on me!" He rants, running his fingers through his hair.
"I swear to god if they pull a Zayn and Perrie on me and force me to marry her I will murder them all." He continues, but I just choke on air. "Marriage? You're not even eighteen!" "They'll do it once I'm eighteen, I wouldn't even be surprised." He sighs, slouching against the door. "That's completely unfair! You'll just be unhappy with life, and she gets her way? Don't you get a chance to have happiness?" He shrugs, not answering.
"We'd end up divorced one day anyway. I'll just wait till then until I receive my happiness." He finally says. "And what if you don't? Or what if it's not until you're old and then you can't find anyone to make you happy because everyone is taken or dead? Then what?" I ask, staring him down. "You're overthinking this. Just relax, and I'll deal with my life, and you deal with yours." "I still think it's stupid," I inform him, leaving the closet.
He follows after me, letting out a long sigh. "Dylan, there's nothing I can do. When I agreed to this, I thought it would help the band a little, and it did! But now she's getting clingy, and I'm tired of it. I can't get out of it though." "Have you tried?" I demand, turning to him.
"No, because I-" I cut him off, shaking my head. "Don't even finish that sentence! You don't know what they are going to say. You don't know if they will let you leave so don't you dare say they aren't going to let you out! They might let you out or they might not, but you will never know if you don't ask!"
"I'm not going to ask because they told me I couldn't get out until the year was up!" "There has to be fine print somewhere stating that if you were unhappy with the arrangements that you could get out." "I doubt it." He scoffs.
"Are you kidding me? I'm just trying to help you get out of a relationship that could potentially ruin the rest of your life, and you keep turning me down!" I walk off, going to my brothers' dressing room.
He glances over at me, going through his shirts. "What shirt?" "Your Canada shirt. They'd like it." He nods, putting it on. "What's up?" He asks, sitting down by my feet. I stretch my feet out onto his lap, looking over at him.
"Boys are idiots," I inform him, making him smile. "You're just now realizing this?" "No, also, I hate you. And this stupid tour." "Does this have something to do with boys being idiots?" "Yes. You're an idiot for taking 5 Seconds of Summer on tour with you." "Gee. Thanks. You don't get along with people, do you?" I shake my head, shooting him a grin.
"I don't know what to tell you. You are spending the next year with them though, so you better start getting along. Befriend them, date them, hell! Marry one of them; I don't care! Just learn to get along with one of them." "Oh yeah, because a seventeen-year-old getting married is legal." I roll my eyes, shaking my head. Again, idiot!
"You're starting to annoy me. Go be productive or something, but leave me alone." "Fine." I huff, exiting his dressing room. I wander around backstage, passing Luke who is talking on the phone.
"It's Blake's sister! She is staying on our bus, and that's why she was coming with me yesterday!" He says, sounding annoyed. "I don't care that it looks bad! Nothing is going on!" He says, making me glance back at him. "I've told you she's driving me insane! She's acting like we are in love when all we do is fight because she blows everything out of proportion! This isn't a good relationship anymore, and she's not even here with me, so I don't understand why we still have to pretend." I lean against the wall, watching him with a smirk.
"Because I'm starting to hate her!" Wow, let it all out, Luke. "You're not the one in a fake relationship with her!" He angrily hangs up, groaning. "I see you took my advice," I say, making him look up at me. "And I was right. I'm still stuck." "But you wouldn't know that if you hadn't tried." I point out. He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Come with me," I say, walking the halls, hoping he is following. I find the door marked roof access, going in. I hear feet behind me, making it known that Luke is following me. I go out onto the roof, Luke soon after. "Going up on the roof in New York always helped me feel better. It clears your head." I tell him, taking a seat.
He walks around for a little bit, looking off the edge. "Fans are already down there." He says. I get up and look over the edge, watching them all talk. "What's it like performing in front of that many people?" "Terrifying, but you get used to it. I love it now, especially when the people know the songs." I smile, nodding. "I helped my brother write a few songs, and when I would go to his concerts when he opened for people and sang those songs, it's an amazing feeling hearing people singing stuff you wrote."
"Have you ever thought about doing this?" "Yeah, who doesn't? I just want to do it on my own though. I don't want my brother to get me a record deal. I don't want help." He nods, sitting. I sit next to him. "There's also the fact that I'm claustrophobic... I don't know what would happen if I get mobbed if I were to become famous." He nods, probably thinking. "Have you ever thought about seeing someone who could help?" "I've seen seven different people." I scoff. "Your mom's doing?" "Yeah. She's acting like I have a life-threatening disease when all I do is get anxious in crowds to where I freeze up or pass out." "But you at least get warning symptoms, right?" "Every so often I could just pass out with no warning, that's when I end up in the hospital because no one knows why I passed out."
"What brings that on?" "Sudden mobbing, which is why I would have a hard time being famous." I glance back over the edge, some fans looking up. "Your fans are looking up here," I tell him, Luke glancing over. A few fans point up at us, pointing their phones up. I quickly move back, Luke glancing back at me.
"What?" He asks. "I don't need to be trending on Twitter too. I've already caused enough drama on this tour, and it's the second day." "Do you want to go back downstairs then?" "I don't care." I shrug, watching Luke wave to everyone then stand up, turning to the door. "Let's go." I follow him downstairs, following him through the door only to run into his back. I peek over his shoulder to see reporters and paparazzi turn their cameras from my brother to Luke and me.
"Shit," I mutter, Luke and I putting our heads down and walking to his dressing room. I sit down on the couch once in there, biting my lip. "So much for not causing any more drama," I mutter. My brother comes in, raising his eyebrows at us.
"It's not what it looks like. I brought Luke up to the roof to clear his head. If I had known reporters and paps had been there, I would have stayed up there until they left." I tell him, not looking at him. "Well it looks wrong, and you're already on the front page of a magazine, so it looks even worse now." I put my head in my hands, sighing. "Can't you get an interview and fix this? Explain what's happening? People think I'm a groupie and that I'm sleeping with all five guys." "Who's the fifth guy?" "You." "Dear God." He mutters.
"I'll tweet out that you're my sister, but no one has time for an interview right now. What happened right there wasn't planned, and now we are behind schedule. Luke, your band is looking for you to rehearse." He says, and Luke leaves. "Dylan, I think for right now it'd be best if you just stayed in one place and didn't cause any more trouble." He leaves, leaving me open-mouthed.
Ashton comes in, looking around. "Is Luke in here?" "Just left to go rehearse," I tell him, frowning. "Well, the sound won't work, so they are trying to fix it. What's up?" "I've been put in timeout for the tour." He chuckles, sitting next to me. "Reporters and paps got Luke and me leaving the roof, so it looks wrong, again. My brother told me to stay put, pretty much putting me in timeout. So I'm staying in here till we leave." He frowns, thinking.
"So you don't even get to see shows anymore?" "Considering I've been front page and probably will be again, people will recognize me and cause more drama." "What if you sit in the sound booth instead of with the fans?" "I don't want to do that. You don't get the full concert experience."
He nods, not saying anything. "It's just till this dies down. Hopefully. But I have a year to see everyone perform, and it's typically the same every night so that I can deal." Calum peeks in, looking at Ashton. "They got sound working, let's go." He says, heading out. "I'll see you later," Ashton says, leaving the room.
I relax on the couch, going through my phone. I scroll through Twitter, seeing my brother's tweet.
@blakeryan: my sister is touring with us, so don't make up shit you don't know.
He tweets a picture of us from a couple of years ago, making me roll my eyes. I tweet him,
@dylanryan: of all the photos you use one from my brace face days. Smh
I continue scrolling, getting a few notifications of people following me, then my phone freezes. Oh, joy. I toss my phone next to me, deciding to take a nap.