World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

52.0

THE DOLLS

Before I start, I need to tell you something about myself that I don’t think I have shared with you yet. I love lists and numbers. I love to write down the things I need to do because, once I see it on paper, I start to look at them as irreversible and I love that feeling.

My goal: The fucking tourist. It sounds gay and ridiculous and even needy but I don’t give a damn. I want him in my life and that’s final.

In order for that to happen, I need to get rid of the competition. As in completely block the hottie’s attempt to win him back. Even if he acted as if he didn’t want to fight for him anymore, I’m not going to fall for his little act. His whole ‘I’m ready now’ shitty performance is an obvious tool for him to steal what belongs to me and there’s absolutely no way I’m going to let that happen. I’m not that dumb. Pretty faces can be smart too and I’m the living proof for that statement.

As I see it now, I have three options. Number ONE: would be to freak out about the fact that I may or may not be just an obstacle in their relationship. Random comment about this: If I’m an obstacle, let’s just say that I’m one hell of a good looking obstacle. That been said, let’s move on to the next item on the list.

Number TWO: I could do something about it. I could try and show the tourist how wrong the hottie is for him. I don’t even know the reason, but I’m pretty sure this is a bad idea.

What I need to do, according to my awesome smartness, is to focus on my option number THREE, which is showing the tourist how right I am for him. I’ve got the looks so there’s absolutely no need to worry about that. Let me just put it like this, if this were a beauty pageant, Mr. UK would be the King and Mr. Ireland wouldn’t even be a finalist. Shit, who am I kidding? The bitch is hot… but I’m way hotter. I’m also funnier. I mean, the tourist laughs at me all the time and the hottie’s humor sucks. He is just plain boring, grumpy all the time and also very rude. Shit… I might need to work on this. Note to self: Google smart and funny jokes ASAP.

The only thing I could worry about is the fucking ring. Without even thinking about it for too long, I already have made my decision. I’m going to hide this piece of cheap metal as hard as I’ve been hiding my sexual orientation from my family and friends for so long. And I was very good at it so it shouldn’t be a problem.

Hey! Speaking of which, and idea just popped into my head. I already came out to my sister and that earned me like thousands of extra points because only God and I know that the Irish version of Ellen is nowhere close to coming out from the closet yet so I guess I win. But I need to make it more evident for the tourist to acknowledge that I’m the one who’s ready and not that Irish bitch. Damn, what if he is already calling his family now? He might be doing just that. Oh hell no. He won’t steal the spotlight away from me. This is my coming out from the closet party and he is not invited.

I need to call my mom right now. Wait, I wonder where the tourist is. I need him to hear how tough and brave I am for doing this. Not that I need his endorsement because I’m afraid to do it alone or anything. I just want to show him that I can do it. Because of my plan, remember?

“Have you seen him?” I ask Liam and Zayn, who seem to be playing some kind of a stupid game in the middle of the parking lot. I can see them jumping or something. Were they always this gay or they just started sweating pink glitter recently? I’m not sure and I don’t have time to stress over this.

“What do you mean him? Use a name,” Jafar barks at me. God! There’s definitely something about this country and me. I don’t even know what it is but my nicknames choices have never been more on point than they are now. I’m on fire.