Wanderlust

I tapped the ball point of the black pen in my hands rapidly against the notepad in my lap, each tap leaving a small speck on the blank page. Falling back into the large cushions of the couch, I heaved a sigh. I had been sitting in the same spot for several hours and all I had managed to accomplish was creating a pool of scrunched up paper balls around my feet.

“Pass the butter.”

I glanced toward the kitchen where both Will and Paloma were, an eerie silence consuming them up until Will’s words.

“I actually don’t remember applying to be your maid.” came Loma’s sharp voice, a hidden scoff beneath her sarcastic words.

“Like I would hire you anyway, just pass me the butter.”

“Get your own butter.”

“It’s right there, don’t be so freaking lazy!”

“Fuck off.”

“Just pass me the butter!”

I jumped from the couch with a shriek, my pen and notepad falling to the floor amongst the pile of
paper. “Just pass him the fucking butter!”

The silence following my words was dangerous, the sort of silence from a horror film or something. I couldn’t take it, I really couldn’t.

William and Paloma had been in the same house for barely four days and I had already witnessed fights over the most unimaginable and ridiculous things; I caught them fighting over looking out of a particular window in the apartment at one point. I like to imagine myself as an incredibly patient person, especially with two of the most important people in my life, but when I needed to write music for an album, I hoped they’d be more considerate.

“I’m going out.” I called shortly to the pair, not waiting for a reply as I slipped on my TOMS and retrieved my phone from the table by the door; the spot I had left it on vibrate to avoid any distractions. I hardly thought I’d get more distracted by the people in the house rather than out.
Slamming the door with a force that shook the walls, I unlocked my phone to see seven missed calls – five from Kara, one from my mother and one from Harry Styles.

I held a bemused feeling toward the last one. I hadn’t heard from anyone relating to One Direction in over a week, and here I now stood with a missed call from the curliest haired member.
Hovering over the button to call him back, I thought over the action. Now wasn’t an extremely great time to converse with Harry – I had a dead line to meet, a manager to talk to, a brother and friend to later scold. Heck, I even had groceries to buy.

“You’re such a brat, you couldn’t just pass me the fucking butter!” muffled its way through the front door which I still stood in front of, soon followed by what sounded like breaking glass.

I shook my head angrily, fed up with whatever drama ensued behind that door and pressed down on Harry’s number, bringing the phone to my ear to hear it ringing.

“Hello?” Harry’s slow voice came through as I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby.

“Hi, Harry, it’s Lucy.”

All I heard in reply was Harry’s laugh, a deep chuckling sound echoing into my ear. I suppressed my smile at the sound.

“’Ello, Lucy. How are you?” Harry sounded almost as if he were sleeping before I rang, which was probably impossible given he had called me not ten minutes earlier. His voice was scratchy and deep and slow, I enjoyed it, regrettably.

“I’m fine Harry, thank you. How are you?”
Harry continued talking in my ear as I ventured onto the street, cursing myself for not bringing sunglasses as I caught a flash from down the street.

“Y’aright, love?”
I sighed, grunting a bit with exaggeration for my own sake, “trying to get some groceries without being photographed looking like a dog,” I chuckled, hearing that deep chuckle again in response.

“You need some company? I called earlier to see if ya’ wanted to hang out.”
I stopped walking at his words, glancing around the street slowly, “That’d be great actually, because I have absolutely no clue where I am...”



“Do you need some crisps?”

I glanced down at Harry as he pushed the shopping trolley, hunched over and walking very slowing as a trotted beside him. His hair was pushed back and hidden beneath a dark olive beanie, which I favoured as it brought out the green in his eyes.

“No, I don’t need any crisps, love.” I laughed, looking along the aisles of food.

Harry bumped my hip softly, chuckling and looking down to the tiled floor between his forearms.

“I need a loaf of bread, some soft drink, toilet paper. Probably should get some butter while we’re here.” I muttered the last part, ignoring Harry curious glance.

“Bread’s this way, I’ll get it.” Harry offered, running off around a corner and disappearing from my sight.

I took charge of the trolley and continued pushing it slowly, eyeing up all the food covering the shelves and smiling at the memory of once working in a supermarket back home. I had been fifteen and worked stocking the shelves; I absolutely hated it, but being in the situation I was now, I kind of missed it. It’s a strange thought, to miss something so little when life has given you so much.
Breaking me out of my nostalgic thoughts, I suddenly became trapped between two arms and the trolley. Tossing the loaf of bread into the cart, Harry placed his hands outside of my own on the handle and placed his chin on my shoulder.

“Are we nearly done?” He asked loudly, causing me to inch my head away with a scrunch in my face. “Market’s are so borin’.”

“Hey, you offered, you can leave anytime you want.” I chuckled, pushing the trolley forward as the boy behind me continued to hover behind me.

“With all those paps out front? No way, love.”

My eyes widened at his words, irritation consuming me as I attempted to reach for a shower gel on the higher shelf. “They’re like parasites over here, I swear. Y’know, I never had to worry about seeing a camera at the supermarket back home, they were way more subtle than this.”
Harry reached up for the item for me and tossed it into the growing pile of products in the cart.

“They’re not usually so bad; I think London jus’ loves you.”

“Right, it couldn’t possibly be me shopping with the Harry Styles that they love.”

Harry moved his arms from the handle and stretched them around me, pinning my arms to my sides and squeezing me softly. “A great photo opportunity, hm?” He murmured in my ear.

Letting go, he took it upon himself to resume his spot as the trolley pusher, walking faster ahead of me and toward the check out. “Keep up, love, this second date ‘as been bloody awful.”

I breathed sharply through my nose as my stomach flipped, my mouth scrunching to the side in attempts to stop the grin wanting to stretch out onto my face.

“Cheeky bastard.” I muttered, jogging after him and his perfect laughter as it echoed down the aisles.