Secrets

I stare at the closed door leading to the bedroom section of the tour bus, fighting not to gnaw on my lip. “Do you think she’s okay?” I ask Louis, trying my hardest not to sound distracted, yet ultimately failing.

“What do you mean?” Louis responds with his mouth full, a sandwich in one hand.

“I mean that Molly just ran in here, showered, and now she’s locked herself in the bedroom. She usually hangs out with us for a while. I wonder if I did something to make her angry.”

Louis snorts with laughter. “No way, mate. You made her life during that interview. Maybe she’s just tired.”

I shrug, pretending to humor him for a minute. “Maybe. I guess it’s possible.”

“See?” Louis grins as he takes another massive bite of his sandwich. “It’s nothing to worry about. You’re just obsessing over nothing.”

But I’m not convinced. I still think there’s something to my suspicions. There’s no way that the Molly I know would hole herself up in a room, trying to hide away from the rest of us, without something being wrong.

“Maybe she’s sick,” I offer, breaking through the content silence. “I know that when I’m sick, the last people I want to be around are you guys.”

“Mostly because Niall catches everything,” Louis reminds me. “I swear, that boy has no immune system whatsoever.”

“Neither do you,” I add snarkily. “Your voice is always rasping out on you.”

“Oh, wow, Harry,” Louis gasps, throwing a hand to his heart and sending a piece of turkey flying out of his sandwich and across the room. I struggle not to burst out laughing. “Kick me while I’m trying to make you feel better, why don’t you?”

“That’s not the expression,” I remind him.

“So? I made it my own. It’s what I do best.” He pushes the rest of his sandwich into his mouth as an eruption of screams comes from the other room, where Zayn, Niall, and Liam are playing video games. Apparently, it’s getting pretty intense.

“They’re going to wake her up,” I cringe. Part of me wants to go through the bedroom to tell them to quiet down, but I don’t for a couple of reasons: One, I’m afraid that I’ll wake up Molly in an effort to keep her asleep, and, second, I know the other boys won’t listen to me, anyway.

“I wonder what game they’re playing,” Louis muses, his eyes flicking up to the door. From the look in his eyes, I know that he’s starting to worry about Molly, that I’ve planted the nagging thoughts into his mind.

“I dunno,” I reply. “They’re just screaming. They’re not saying anything.”

Louis pulls out his phone, no longer preoccupied on the rest of the band, before typing something, his thumbs flying across the keys.

I settle back in my seat and try my hardest not to think about Molly. But no matter how much I try to focus my mind on the next interview, the next concert, the next time I get to see my mum, llamas, nothing’s sticking. I just keep worrying about Molly, wondering what might have happened to make her avoid us.

Just as I was starting to give up hope, there was a knock on the bus door.

“The hell?” Louis questions, looking up at me with confusion, as if I hold the answer to who’s standing behind the door.

I shrug as I get to my feet. “This is weird,” I mumble as I head across the floor. “We don’t exactly get visitors.”

I open the door to let the person in without checking in the peek hole first.