Concept: we’re reading on the sofa in our new apartment. My cat is resting in your lap and your cat is resting in mine. Our feet are touching underneath a soft blanket. We are completely silent, aside from short moments when we read each other our favourite lines from our books when we get to them. I try to tickle your foot and you kick at me, grinning through your the annoyed look you try to send my way. We’re happy.
louis is so down to earth, generous, humble and kind. he is such an amazing human being and was raised to be that way. he literally says ‘come on, mum let’s make someone happy today’ whenever someone writes shit about him and somehow he’s STILL always counted out, treated like shit cause people don’t like how clever he is and how always fights for what he believes in… he doesn’t deserve any of this crap.
Harry collapsed on his bed. He’d just hung up with Niall who had mentioned that he and Louis thought the idea of a break for at least a year might be good for them. They all had wanted time off, but they thought a year of no touring would be enough. Or Harry had, anyway.
How did a year of no touring turn into a year of no band requirements outside of the bare minimum? A year of possibly only seeing the boys in passing once every few months as they signed some papers here, did a photoshoot there. If that were the plan then the no touring idea would likely be closer to two years and…honestly that scared Harry a bit.
The two month break they had between the Asian leg and the European leg this year had been hard enough, and now they are suggesting a full year? A bloody year. What the hell was Harry going to do with himself?
He looked around his room and noticed that he still hadn’t gotten all of his paintings hung. Then again, he didn’t spend as much time here as he had expected initially. He preferred to spend time closer to his family and particularly loved London. So many good memories there, and his house was close enough to Louis and Niall that they could often get together without much thought given.
Harry blew the air out of his mouth as his phone gave a chime. Picking it up, he found a text from Louis asking if Niall had called yet.
Riley Christopher Rider, born 1982 in London. Studied
English Lit at King’s College in London, got his PhD in British lit at
Cambridge University. Her finger scrolled down the page, dismissing his works
and the two paragraphs dedicated to his acclaimed book on Lord Byron. Sadly
there were no interesting facts mentioned. Gosh, it didn’t even contain any
information about his accent! How were people supposed to know he had a sexy,
smoky British accent? This was just lazy, lazy writing on their part.
The bell over the door dinged and she was once again
forced to drop her stalking and serve her customers. She looked up just as the handsome, young guy in his twenties approached the counter, looking over at
her with a wide, friendly smile.
‘Hi! Terribly sorry to bother you, but do you know
where I could find Kaprova 12? I have been up and down this street and there is
no building number 12, I swear to God.’
‘Mr McKeenan’s class, isn’t it?’
His eyebrow quirked. ‘Yeah. How did you know? Please,
don’t tell me I look like a literature geek.’
‘No. But you’re holding his customarily messy
syllabus, and it’s after five so it’s definitely his class,’ she answered with
a smile. ‘Go down this side of the road toward the Old Town Square and stop at
the Hostel. It’s the same doorway. The code for the door is…’
‘…1563,’ they said in unison making Věra grin.
‘Right. At least this time he gave you the right one.
I was trying to open that door with a wrong code the entire semester last year.
Věra Vávra, Art History.’ ‘Adam,’ he answered, taking her hand into a
surprisingly hot grip. ‘Adam Gilbert, Philosophy.’
‘Ooooh, likey,’ she drawled. ‘Went to the festival you
guys did last semester. Pretty cool stuff.’
‘I… wouldn’t know,’ he laughed. ‘I just transferred.’ ‘Well, you’re in for a treat. We have great philosophy
department. Or so I hear.’
‘I believe you. And I would stay and order something
just to make you happy, but sadly I’m late for my Scottish Lit seminar, which
seems to be a promising blow-off class…’
‘…it’s really not,’ she chuckled.
‘…and I have to run.’ He winked at her walking back
toward the door in a rush. ‘Adam!’ she halted him with a smile. His head appeared
back in the doorway and she asked, ‘If you are free tonight a few of us are
going to a club. Maybe we could show you around.’
He shrugged. ‘Sounds great. If you don’t mind me
‘I invited you, of course I don’t mind. We will meet
up on Národní at eight and go from there.’
‘I’ll be there,’ he said and seconds later his dark head disappeared in the doorway.
Well look at her, making friends all over the place.
It’s not like she was trying to find a rebound for her last romantic encounter. Nope. Not… at… all…
I love that juicero has decided to advertise their $2000 juice bag squeezer on Tumblr, of all places… And, true to form, they didn’t ask “is this a good idea”, nor did they ask “what might go wrong?” Every startup really needs someone on staff, full time, that just walks around the office and asks those questions.
But no, they just threw some graphic designers at it, and hit the big red button. Or, the butt, in this case. Seems hauntingly familiar, for some reason… Can’t quite put my finger on it…