I took a quick backward glance and saw that Potter's lovely date was chasing me through the street. The girl was quite daffy. One, why the fuck was she chasing me? I’m the crazy person here, I get to run. She must be crazy too then. Maybe we could be friends? Call me maybe? HEY I JUST MET YOU. AND THIS IS CRAZY. BUT HERES MY NUMBER. SO CALL ME MAYBE. Okay, excuse my mental singing. That song is a surprisingly good work out song if anyone’s interested. Two, everyone knows that I'm fast. I'm a seeker for Merlin's sake. I can outrun everyone. EVERYONE. Okay, except for Potter. The older one. FUCK I SAID HIS NAME. But it wasn’t in that context. So it’s all peachy keen.
I was quite a ways ahead of her, and I saw that Potter-the-first-but-the-second-with-his-name had started chasing too. Why was he running? Maybe everyone had a sudden urge to exercise because Madam Puddifoot’s had drugged the bread to avoid obesity. Damn, I love their bread. Was he on drugs? He could get kicked off the quidditch team for that. What would we do without a captain? Louis would take over. Why hadn’t he outrun slag-girl yet? Maybe he was still drugged. How fast can a girl run in stilettos? I don’t know, but I’ll be conducting a purely scientific experiment on Saturday if anyone's interested. Back to the chasing at hand.
I turned a corner and hid, watching Potter and Veronica (I've named her Veronica. It kinda sounds like a slutty name, right? Maybe I just hate it because that's what some people mistakenly call me) run past. I took a look around.
"Hey, what are you lot all doing here?" I said, looking around at the five or so people huddled in the alley with me.
There was Zack, my mormon friend, Casey, the gorgeous cheerleader type, and the list goes on.
"Hiding from our dates, like you are," Casey piped up.
"Zack, aren't you a mormon?" I asked, “You’re not supposed to be dating.”
"I'm here with my mom," he said, blushing.
“Aw, that’s adorable and sad at the same time,” I cooed, “but I'm not hiding from my date, in fact I love my date."
"Then why are you here?" Georgia, the goth girl said. God, my life is such a cliché.
"I pissed off Potter and Veronica," I said, “so I ran.”
"I thought he was on a date with Jenny," Zack said, “or are you talking about Al?”
Jenny. Now that was a wholesome and pure name. I hate the name Jenny. It’s misleading. I hope Jenny-Veronica becomes a prostitute. But she has nice shoes. Maybe when she’s homeless I can buy them from her.
"Potter-the-older," I said, "I'll be getting back now. Ta-ta guys! Good luck and all that shit!"
I skipped out of the alley, peering around corners and walking sneakily back to the restaurant. I should become a spy.
It’s not like I’m overly conspicuous or anything.
“Where have you been?” Louis said, as I walked back into the restaurant and slipped back into the booth, “it’s been like ten minutes. Did you fall into the toilet again?”
He took a look at my face.
“Fuck, that’s your euphoria face,” he said, “what’d you do this time? Robbing? Raping? Or even worse, are you drunk? I TOLD YOU NOT TO DRINK! We do not need a repeat of the “Fifth Year Gryffindor Party Incident.”
“I’m drunk off happiness,” I said dreamily, and I watched his level of shock rise.
“I’m toying with you,” I said, “but we might need to suddenly hide if Potter and Jenny-Veronica come back.”
“Oh, we can talk about him now?” he asked.
“CONTEXT,” I hissed, “what part of context don’t you understand?”
“I’m sorry I can’t keep up with your weirdness,” he shot back.
“If I’m so weird why are you here?” I whisper-yelled.
“Because I love you, you freak,” he said.
“Love you too,” I said.
“As touching as this display of affection is, I’m going to have to cut the snogging session afterward short,” a cold voice said from above us.
Lovely, guess who it was?
I’ll give you one.
James Potter. The second. In the flesh.
How dearly I value my life. It’s so great. How amazing was it have to have James intruding on my date. Okay, it wasn’t really a date. Haha no one likes you. SHUT UP BRAIN. I HATE YOU. I WANT TO STAB YOU. You’d fail even worse at your classes then. Hey, I’m plenty smart. Suuure. I kicked myself.
As you can see, I’m most definitely the sharpest knife in the drawer.
He smirked at me, like he knew I was having an internal struggle, and started on the most condescending rant I’d ever heard in my sixteen years of life.
“I never would have pegged you to date the stalkerish types cousin,” he said mockingly to Louis, “I really thought you were a long legs and nice arse type of guy. But after five years of friendship, you wanted to shag Hathaway, didn’t you?”
Louis opened his mouth to defend me, but James wasn’t finished.
“And Hathaway,” he said, his voice still dripping with sarcasm, “who’d have thought you’d be an all brawn and no brains type of girl. Doesn’t suit you, love.”
He spat the last word like poison.
I stood up, my face taking a fake smile to rival his.
“Oh come off it,” I said, “just because your date turned out to be a lesbian and chased after me doesn’t give you the right to insult us. We all know how much you want to shag a girl right now, and it’s your prime, isn’t it? Valentine’s day? The day where you can find some self-pitying girl and turn on your Potter charm and get her into bed?”
He had no response. Maybe, you know, because it was, like, you know, the truth? Sorry, I had a moment where I just had to mimic a fangirl. A girl has her moments.
Sensing the awkward turtles about to descend, Louis shot in. Cape and all. My prince charming. Cue the pretend swooning. Yeah, I’ll do that later.
“As lovely as this conversation was, dear cousin, Victoria and I must get back to our date,” Louis said, his voice as cold as Potter’s and ten times as clipped. Cold doesn’t suit Louis.
Something Louis hated was being referred to as brawny and not brainy, and James knew it. Louis was plenty smart, he just happened to excel at Quidditch too. James was just jealous. Louis also never went for the blonde girl type. And as far as I knew, he was also a virgin, something he had to continuously lie about to the other guys. He’s going to make some nice girl very happy someday. Ooh like Emma! Save that in my brain. I’ll give the toast at the wedding! I’ll be drunk and crying, and it will be freaking amazing. It’ll be like: “I was Louis and Emma’s best friend. I knew that they were perfect together from the day I met them.” Except that's false. But everyone's a liar at weddings.
Most original and epic toast ever.
Louis got up from his side of the booth, purposely knocking James in the shoulder, and sat down next to me. He looked into my eyes, mouthed ‘forgive me’ and then started snogging me as if his life depended on it.
A/N: Me gusta reviews ;) "Call Me Maybe" belongs to Carly Rae Jepsen.