Rochester Avenue // Luke Hemmings

Chapter 19 - 'I Will Not Help Change The Diapers'

"I'm panicking," I said to George as he sat in my desk chair and swiveled round in circles. "What am I supposed to take? I'm there for like, two weeks, so how much stuff am I going to need? I should take more than I think I need because more is always better than less, right? Is it supposed to be hot this week? Should I take shorts? Or just stick with jeans? How many sweaters do you think I should take? The place is by the sea so maybe I should bring a swimsuit–"

"Noelle," George groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Please stop talking. I'm hung-over."

"Okay, but I seriously need your help," I said, throwing some underwear into the suitcase.

"Noelle, I have a question for you," George said bluntly, looking at the underwear in the bag. "Are you on your period?"

I shot him a look. "No."

"Are you due it at all in the next week?"

"No," I huffed. "Why?"

"Because you're packing all your unattractive panties," he stated, getting up and taking the underwear out that I'd put in. "And let's just remember, you're going to be living in the same house as Luke Hemmings for the next week."

I stared at him. "And why would that matter?"

"Hello? Sex! You guys are practically a thing now–"

"We are not," I protested.

"And just think. You're in your room, it's the middle of the night and you can't sleep, Luke might be just next door and really, are you going to be able to restrain yourself?" George questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"You make me sound like some kind of sex addict," I grumbled, but nevertheless picked out some of my more attractive underwear. Not because I thought anyone was going to see it, more because wearing sexy underwear makes me feel sexier. "Fine. What else do I need?"

It was ten o'clock on a Monday morning and much to his annoyance, I'd made George come over and help me decide what to pack. We were meeting at the studio at twelve before starting the four-hour journey up to San Simeon, and I was guessing we were all going to go in the minivan. I'd been panicking for a good half hour now and I was pretty sure George was very ready to murder me.

"Pack what you want, Noelle. Listen, if you let me go, I'll get you a coffee. How about that?" he suggested, already heading to the door. I snorted.

"Nice try but sit down." I rummaged through my drawers as George sat back down, grumbling. "This sweater?"

"Sure," he muttered, yawning. "Pack those jeans that make your ass look good."

"Oh, yeah, those ones. This top?"

"Go for it."

With George's – sometimes useless – input, my bag was packed in twenty minutes. He then ordered me to put on makeup and put on a nice outfit rather than my sweats, which I was in now. I obliged and was ready to go with twenty minutes to spare.

"Okay. Noelle." George sat me down on my bed and looked me very seriously. "Use protection because if you get pregnant I will kill you, and I will not help change the diapers. But if you do his name will be George, unless it's a girl, in which case Georgia."

"Jesus Christ, George," I groaned. "You have got to let this go. Or you can leave."

He made a face at me. "Okay, fine. But if something happens, you have to tell me immediately."

I got up and opened the door, gesturing for George to leave. He pouted but stood up as well. "Fine, I'm going." He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tightly as he planted a big kiss on the top of my head. "See you in two weeks. Behave."