08. jacking off.

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"Goddamnit, Ash! You nearly knocked her over," another voice says, and Calum Hood shakes his head as his friend begins to pile a bunch of tissues on top of the spilling blue liquid.

My feet are pretty much frozen to the ground, and my eyes are wide as they flicker between Ashton Irwin, Calum Hood and- much to my dismay, for it'd be easier to run out if he wasn't blocking the doorway- Michael Clifford.

"I'm so sorry," Ashton says, chuckling slightly from where he has one knee on the ground; napkins from one of the tables in his hand as he attempts to soak up all the cleaning agent. His laugh makes me want to die.

He gives me an apologetic look, and I snap out of my trance. "I didn't mean to be in the way and make you drop all the stuff. I was just going to ask you if you could take us to our table, but-"

"I-It's fine. It's okay," I stammer, shaking my head and running a hand through my hair. I quickly bend down, taking the blue tissues and plopping them in the bucket where the wet towel used to be.

Ashton takes a couple of steps back to avoid the stuff getting anywhere near his shoes, and possibly to give me some more space, but I'm still uncomfortable to the point where I have to look down in order to avoid eye contact.

"Good going, Irwin." Michael's voice resonates like a song on repeat in my mind as I struggle to keep myself calm. "You had one job. And that was to get a table, and sit down."

"Hey, you can't say anything. You were the lazy oaf who couldn't do it himself," Ashton huffs.

"I was helping Luke park the car," Michael frowns. My heart practically deflates like a birthday balloon in my chest.

"I'm sorry, miss," Calum says, stepping in between the two bickering boys to stand in front of me. "Please excuse my friends. We've had a rough morning,"

"Our friend almost drove us off a cliff," Michael notes. My eyes widen.

"It wasn't a cliff," Calum rolls his eyes, as if the reinstatement is any better. Then he looks at me. "We were driving on a bridge and he got distracted by his phone. Almost smashed into the railing, but I doubt you wanna hear any of that," he chuckles, and I almost want to laugh with him considering how it's not true- anything sounds like a fairytale coming from him. "Do you need help with any of that?"

"It's okay, I've got it," I reply, finding my voice in amidst all the chaos this conversation has become. "Most of the bleach is off the floor, anyway," I turn to Ashton, somewhat calm on the outside despite my inner fangirl just waiting to make an appearance. I smile. "Thank you for helping."

"It's no problem," he grins. "It's the least I could do for nearly knocking you over. You're just so tiny-"

"Ashton." Michael slaps him on the arm, pausing his sentence.

The drummer blushes. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget it's offensive to label people by height,"

"He forgets we're giants, basically." Calum tells me, and I laugh.

After the initial shock of running into 5 Seconds of Summer- quite literally- I excuse myself, with the promise of getting Dylan to show them to their table as soon as possible. The boys just smile, tell me to take my time, and resume to bickering over countless things that don't necessarily have any meaning to me.

"Dyl," I say, poking my head around one of the many work stations in the kitchen. He looks behind him, startled. "The boys are here."

"Seven winters?"

"What?"

"Of Autumn?"

"See, now you're just taking the piss," I say, and he laughs. "They're outside right now. Three of them."

"Three? I thought there were five?"

"No, there's actually four," I say, and my stomach clenches at the thought of the fourth walking through those double doors any minute now and settng me into full panic-mode.

"Four?"

"Luke, Calum, Ashon and Michael," I remind him, somewhat impatiently.

Dylan frowns, straightening his position. "Where's Niall Horan?"

"He's not in this one," I say, slowly growing frustrated. "Can you please stop being annoying for like, two minutes? I still don't know what table they're supposed to be at and I was supposed to go twenty minutes ago."

"Alright, alright, chill your chinchillas," Dylan sighs, wiping his hands on his apron. I narrow my eyes at the interesting choice of phrase as he straightens his back. "Come on, I'll go with you."

"What? No, I'm leaving, Dyl. I wasn't even supposed to be working today," I frown, untying my own apron. I kind of want to blame the unexpected run-in with the three entirely on him, though a part of me feels as if it would have happened sooner or later, anyway.

"Ask them what they want to drink, at least?" Dylan suggests, looking desperate. I sigh again. "Please?"

"Why can't Chase do it?"

"Because Chase is a fucking idiot and cut his hand open with the can opener," Dylan places a pen and notepad on my chest, biting his lips. "Please, Soph? I'll pay you extra extra."

Grumbling, I take the paper from him, not seeing much of a loophole out of this. "I hate you."

"You are such an angel, it's unreal." he breathes, before kissing me on the forehead and disappearing entirely around the back again.

I roll my eyes, re-tying the waitressing apron around my neck for the second time today. As I glance out of the kitchen and over the counter, I'm relieved at the sight of the vacant seat next to Michael, at a table harbouring the only Reserved sign in the entire café. I feel like an absolute idiot for not noticing it earlier, but at least they took it upon themselves to find the damn thing instead of waiting around for me to do so.

"I'm telling you, dude," I hear Ashton say, crossing his arms as the folded paper napkin in front of him fails to stay upright. The closer I get, the stranger the conversation sounds. "Sticks are better than picks."

"You're only saying that because you're a drummer. If you were a guitarist, you'd know better," Michael notes.

"I think bassists would say otherwise. Why use a small plastic disc thing when your fingers are right there?" Calum wriggles his own in the air, looking triumphant.

"Even ask Luke. He'll tell you," Michael says, quite smugly as I reach their table and his eye catches mine. "What do you think, miss?"

"What is this, pre-school?" Calum rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty sure she has a name."

Thankfully, my waitressing apron holds no name tag. I stare blankly back at Calum, unsure of what he wants me to say as he lets out a low chuckle. "I think this is the part where you tell us your name,"

"Oh! Oh, right," I say, my cheeks flaring up. "It's- uh-" I fumble for the notepad and pen, quickly looking down at my feet to avoid my blush becoming prominent. The first few sounds that enter my mind are the last few to leave my mouth. "-El-lie-ah-yeah?"

"Elliayeh?" Ashton repeats, in a kind tone that he's probably using to mask the fact that he doesn't believe me. I'm not even going to try and sugarcoat it; I didn't necessarily sound the most convincing. "How do you spell that?"

"Uhm, like... Ellie?" it comes out as more of a question than a statement. "Yeah. Yeah," I mumble, biting my bottom lip. "...It's French."

"Ahh."

"But anyway," I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, desperate to divert all of the unwanted attention onto something other than me. "Can I get you guys something to drink?"

"Can I get a water?" Michael pipes up. "With like, three ice cubes."

"Just three?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Or four."

"Any particular reason?"

"He's just extra," Calum rolls his eyes, before smiling at me. "Can I have a hot chocolate? Ashton'll have earl grey."

"You know me so well," the curly headed boy says in awe, placing his wrung together hands on the table.

I just laugh, nodding my head as I scribble their drinks down. I don't really need too, for a glass of water, a hot chocolate and an earl grey tea aren't the hardest things to remember, but I do so anyway because this way, I can hide my face behind the A5 block of paper.

I turn on my heel, about to walk away when Calum starts speaking again. "Wait! What about Luke?"

"Yeah, where is he?" Michael frowns, looking at his watch.

"I mean what would he want to drink? He might take a while,"

"Probably jacking off in the backseat," Ashton snickers, earning a laugh from the other two boys.

When he notices me still standing there, his eyes widen. "Oh, crap. I thought you'd gone," he says, guilt coating his tone.

"It's alright," I chuckle awkwardly.

"See, now I feel bad."

"Why would you feel bad? You act like girls don't think about stuff like that," Michael chuckles.

"But still. We're supposed to be setting good examples,"

"For who?"

"Our fans?" Ashton frowns. "You know, the reason we can do what we do?"

"Oh, chill out. She doesn't even look like a fan," Michael notes. I inhale a quiet breathe, somewhat offended. Oh, Michael, I think. If only you knew.

"It just seems rude to talk about raunchy things around a person you've only just met," Ashton states, looking at me apologetically. "I'm sorry, Ellie."

My fake name doesn't register in my mind, so I look around me in attempts to spot the nearby Ellie. Once I realise that I'm actually the one he's referring to, I'm quick to straighten my posture. "Oh, it's fine," I say, brushing it off like it's nothing. "Don't worry about it."

"It's a long story but I swear, I don't watch my friends touching themselves often." Ashton reasons.

"Often?" both Michael and Calum chorus. I hold in a laugh as the other boy groans, throwing his head back.

"I didn't mean it like that! You guys always twist my words."

"You're just lucky Luke isn't here. He'd take the piss out of you so bad," Calum teases.

"He can hardly talk! Have you seen the shit that goes on on his phone?" Ashton rolls his eyes.

"So that's one hot chocolate, one water and one earl grey tea?" I reinstate, and their eyes fall on me again as I try to wrench the topic of conversation away from what it's spiralling into.

"Two hot chocolates. Just in case our friend ever comes back," he jokes. "Thank you again, Miss...?"

"Sophie." I say, with no hesitation whatsoever as I add to the list. Due to my absentminded scribbling, I forget my front entirely.

"Sophie?" Michael repeats, looking amused. My face falls. "Thought your name was Ellie?"

"It's my middle name. I'll be out with your drinks in a minute," I say, lying straight through my teeth before turning around and exhaling a slow, shakey breath.

My heart drops to the very pit of my stomach as I skirt around the counter, feeling the burning sensation of their gazes following my every move. I scurry back into the kitchen, desperate to escape their line of vision as my paranoia completely takes over when I hear Ashton say;

"I swear I've seen her before."

"Dylan," I call, briskly pulling the strings of my apron undone and yanking it off of me.

"Dylan!"

"In here!" he calls, his voice echoing from behind the Keurigs. I make my way to where he is quickly, tossing the notepad and pencil on the table before switching the hot chocolate machine on.

"What are you doing?" he asks, looking at the list.

"Making a couple of the drinks. Then I gotta go," I say. "Can you bring it out to them?"

"Sure I can," Dylan nods, watching me rush around. The hot chocolate is done within minutes, and I take an unbelievable amount of care in making it look presentable.

"These are the rest of the drinks the guys want," I say in a haste, already gathering my things; which I'm thankful isn't a lot, for it's just my phone and my hoodie. "Okay, now I've gotta go."

"Right, alright. Thank you for helping us out today, Soph," he says, fixing the tray and taking the container of tea bags out of the cupboard. Unfortunately, I have no time to pick up on the sincerity of his voice. "I'm sorry for keeping you-"

"Don't worry about it," I wave him off carelessly, before standing on my tiptoes and giving him a quick hug, "I'll see you back at the house."

"Sure, sure. You take care now,"

"You too."

Everything works out for me after that. I run out of the back door, sneak around the front, and disappear into the bustling crowds of people touring LA; my hood up, my heart racing, and relief in my chest.

As if on cue, my phone starts to buzz once I turn into the next block, a few minutes walk from home.

The drinks in this place are amazing, I swear.

Tastes so fucking good

What place?

I smile like an idiot as I start my trek down the neighbourhood, feeling accomplished and satisfied yet relieved and uncertain all at the same time.

This really quiet place, not sure if you've heard of it

In LA?

Mhm.

What's it called?

Dylase's Café?

Biting my lip, I let out a small laugh, typing my reply back before opening the front door and stepping inside.

Never heard of it.

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