Wanderlust

“Loma, please put the magazine down.”

I watched as my best friend sat at the white café table across from me, her bottom lip jutted out dramatically while she lowered the tabloid she had been reading.
We were seated outside in the cool weather, London’s temperature still rather low but with the sun peeking out from behind clouds.

Paloma had only just arrived in London earlier that morning, from which I had swiftly picked her up and escorted her away from Heathrow where various people had gathered after having heard that she and I would be there at some point. To say that the shouting and hollering directed at my testy young friend had bothered her would be an understatement.

Ironically, that was something I truly loved about Paloma Andrews. She genuinely hated my status most of the time. She detested the paparazzi, even though her job entitled her to be photographed a lot, and she could very rarely stand the rumours that went around about me. Behind her extremely tough exterior, Paloma was generally a very protective person – of herself and of her loved ones. The way this girl was about my career had me immensely trusting of her, because while she was supportive she was also level headed.

“But it’s talking about you!” She made fun, attracting my attention as she slapped the magazine down onto the table next to her half eaten croissant.
“They’re saying that you’re basically bed hopping those Direction boys, those fuckers.”

I smirked at her, watching as she adjusted the white bandana headband in her dark hair, also pulled back by a pair of aviators. I had forgotten to warn Loma that the weather in London was remarkably cold, but she seemed to be coping well in her high waisted shorts and tank, even leaving her cardigan hanging over a spare chair. I shivered just looking at her while I tugged my unzipped hoodie closer to my body.

“Bed hopping?” I questioned with amusement, “I’ve gone on one date with one band member. And I’ve barely seen any of them since...”

It was a true statement. Though Liam, Niall and Harry had ventured over to Will and I’s apartment that rainy afternoon, I had yet to see any One Direction member since. They had apparently been in the studio endlessly, while I had done another interview, as well as booked my own studio time slot for the next Wednesday afternoon. Booking that slot meant I would have to pick up a guitar or open the piano cabinet within the next five days, or the appointment would be a huge waste of time for anyone backing me, as well as the Studio’s staff. It had become blatantly obvious that this vacation was no longer, and I had delved straight back into working - just now it was in a prettier environment.

I hadn’t yet told anyone, but I was really terrified of what would happen once I opened my mouth to sing again. I had lost so much focus in that field when I had been offered an acting job that it was like that part of my life never happened. I honestly did want to start making music again, but I had this harbouring pressure on me, asking myself if I would be as good as everyone expected me to be. That was just it – Everyone expected this reunion with music to be some spectacular event, but there were so many fantastic artists out now and maybe I just couldn’t compete.
“Well, when are you seeing them again?”

My gaze on the white table before me broke as my eyes shot up into Paloma’s brown ones, her face questioning me for a moment.

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, watching her face fall in disappointment. “Everyone’s really busy; even William is busy. He’s been on the phone with Kara non-stop, as well as sneaking off to see some raven-haired beauty that he refuses to introduce me to.”

“Fuck that!” I jumped at Paloma’s outburst, her fist knocking down on the table and causing some cutlery to clang in doing so. “Tell them you wanna’ hang out! Damn, girl, take some initiative!”

I laughed at my best friend’s antics, knowing full well that she was serious with her demands. “Maybe,” I hummed, amused by her bewildered expression, “We’ll see how well you can behave before I introduce you to Niall.”

Her eyes were quick to soften upon hearing the blonde boy’s name. Over the phone I had informed her of my extreme wing-woman work with the Irishman, buttering her up as well as I mentioned that Niall enjoyed a good drink, much like herself.

“Well then,” she began calmly, “let’s head home then, shall we? Maybe your dick-fuck of a brother will be there with this ‘raven-haired beauty’ he’s been seeing.”

My laugh belted through the café’s outdoor area as I watched Paloma stand from her chair and walk toward the court-yard’s exit. I lagged behind her, throwing down some pounds, probably far too many due to my non-existent knowledge of English currency yet, and made our way to the car.

My brother and Paloma were not what you would call ‘friends.’ I wouldn’t even bother to call them acquaintances given they hardly ever stayed in the same room long enough to converse. When they did converse, however, they would shoot daggers at one another and take any opportunity to insult the other. The reason behind all of this was plain and simple; they had an intense personality clash. While Paloma was a hard-headed, independent potty-mouth with no immediate plan for her future, William was generally polite, though some-what judgemental and uptight, as well as organized beyond repair – there was a reason he was my assistant.

When the pair had met, they immediately took a disliking to each other and all I could do was watch as their reasonable avoidance of the other turned into a fully fuelled war of snide remarks and condescending comments.

I knew there was no real harm done in their little back-and-forth, so if anything, I was extremely looking forward to the next couple of days where Will would very nearly rip his hair out and Paloma would probably succeed in getting her eyes permanently rolled into the back of her head.
We into the car William and I had agreed on sharing, a small black thing, and immediately headed toward the apartment, the radio playing softly in the background.

“So, are you and Harry tuning?” Paloma questioned me out of the blue as we neared closer to home, the streets shortening.

I scrunched my face up, beginning to get irritated at the constant questions I had received on the topic. It was reminder enough that the boy hadn’t texted or called, I didn’t need my best friend bringing it up at every chance.

“No,” I snapped slightly, heaving out a lungful of hair and tucking away a strand of hair which had escaped my low bun. “I’m not tuning him and he’s not tuning me – we’re not tuning.”

“Yikes, easy there, tiger, I was just asking.” Paloma laughed, gently punching my shoulder.

“Well, stop asking. I don’t think he’s into me at all, honestly.”

“I doubt that.” She stated stubbornly in a low voice, to which I rolled my eyes and decided to change topics. “You’re sharing a room with Will, by the way.” I fibbed, smirking.

“Fuck off.” She exclaimed disbelievingly, turning to face me. I just chuckled in return as she knocked my shoulder again with more force and a huff from her lips.

I smiled at her childish behaviour; I was glad she was here. Despite her annoying habit to pry into every situation and incessantly bug me about any relationships on –or off – the rise, I loved her like she was my own sister. She was a friendly reminder that Australia was just a plane ride away, and while recently I had been feeling terribly homesick, Paloma was a perfect escape for the time being.