[Book 1 of Complicated Trilogy] “It may not be perfection, but it's complicated.” Warning: Yellow—Contains mature content. Cursing is not censored. © Copyright 2014-2016. All rights reserved. I do not own the picture I photo shopped as the cover.


4. La Quinta Inn, Population: Occupied

La Quinta Inn, Population: Occupied


After watching six episodes, I got up from the sofa and went to the door to see what the weather is like today. “Holy shit!” I slammed the door. The heat wave hit me like a fucking slap to the face. I went back inside to dress up and I put on my mahogany colored tank top with my black shorts and my favorite gold sandals. I braided my hair in a French braid and put on light makeup. Black eyeliner and mascara was the only thing I needed. Oh, and a little lip gloss didn't hurt.

I got my luggage and got out of the house. I made sure that the door was locked before I went to my Nissan GT-R. It's black with a pink stripe down the middle. I threw my luggage in as soon as I unlocked it. Then I got in and started the car. The heat is so bad outside that it engulfed my car with warmth and I had to roll down the windows. My air conditioning was still out since last month. I turned on the radio to distract myself from the intense heat.

“And now a flight back into time with Steal My Girl by One Direction.”

OMG! THIS IS MY FUCKING JAM! I turned the volume all the way up and chimed in.

She be my queen

Since we were sixteen

We want the same things, 

We dream the same dreams,

Alright (alright)

I got it all 

'Cause she is the one

Her mum calls me love, 

Her dad calls me son, 

Alright (alright)

But I know,

I know, 

I know for sure 

Everybody wanna steal my girl

Everybody wanna take her heart away

Couple billion in the whole wide world,

Find another one

'Cause she belongs to me! 

God, I love this song. Zayn never allows anyone to play any 1D songs at work. Apparently, it brings back to many memories. What a pussy. It's just a fucking song... 


I got into my hotel room before anyone recognized me. Louis is a dumb ass! Why did he tweet about us traveling to the American Midwest?! People still use Twitter! Bloody hell! I dropped my luggage on the hotel room floor and flop onto the bed. Before landing on the bed, I saw the room in a blur–Cream colored walls, beige colored carpet that's clearly worn out, and a table with chairs in the corner. I buried myself among the pillows and slept. I don't know who I'm mad at more; Louis, or the cold-hearted bitch that is jet lag. Either way, it's bloody hell.

“Harry! It's Louie! Are you asleep mate?” Oh bloody hell!

“I thought you got a separate room,” I said as I got up from the heavenly bed.

“Yeah, but it's connected to this one. Didn't you see the door by the flat screen TV over there?”

I looked and to my disbelief, there was a door there. “To be honest, I just threw my stuff down and crashed.”

“Well,” Louis began, “you're still groggy, so I'm just going to my room to shower. See you later!” And like that, he closed the door and vanished. Woo hoo! I jumped and sank back into bed.

1 hour later...

I got up from the bed, feeling satisfied from the nap. I didn't notice the entire room when I came in, so I took a look around. the bed frame was a dark oak and the bedding was completely white, the small table and chairs in that one corner oddly enough match the bed frame, and a potted plant in another corner. The curtains on the wide window were opaque enough so I wouldn't have to worry about paparazzi; even though I'm on the 5th floor. I decided to take a shower since I have nothing else to do and I smell pretty bad.

I got into the shower, in about 20 minutes later I got out and put on my boxers, and stood in front of the mirror, combing my auburn hair. I'm glad I finally got a haircut after 4 years. Crazy right? I was about to get out and change, but I heard movement in the hotel room. “Louis?”

I heard a thud after calling out his name. After being hesitant, I put on my towel and opened the bathroom door. To my surprise, I found a girl who has long, wavy, dark brown hair, beautiful tan skin, and the most amazing brown eyes, sitting on the floor. All I could say was...“You're not Louis.” I tried to be as calm as possible.


Jesus Christ! What the fuck is taking so long?! I've been stuck in traffic for the past hour, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel. Apparently, the road work from last year in November wasn't completed yet and they're just finishing it; and I thought I was lazy. Fucking road workers! I was thinking of getting out and seeing what the hold up was, but all the cars in my lane started to move forward. Thank the heavens! Within no time I arrived at La Quinta Inn, parked my car, and went inside. Looking around, this hotel reminds me of Mexico. 

“Welcome to La Quinta Inn. How may I help you?” said the reception desk lady.

“Yes, I have a reservation for Fernandez.” She started to scroll and click on her computer.

“Here it is,” She said, “Room 209, on the 5th floor. here's your card.”

I thanked her and gathered my things and went to the elevator. As soon as I got to the 5th floor, I walked down the hallway until I reached room 209. I push the card in and it magically unlocks the door. 

Cream colored walls, beige colored carpet that's clearly worn out, and a table with chairs in one corner and a potted plant in the other is what made up the room. however, what really popped out in the room was the fact that the bed with white pillows and white comforter was all sloppy and unmade. Also, there was luggage by the table that was not mine. It couldn't be Alanna's. She left for London. I was about to look through the luggage, but I heard someone moving around in the bathroom.

I panicked, stumbled, and fell to the floor. I heard a voice in a familiar accent. “Louis?”

I was so terrified in the moment that I stayed on the floor, sitting like I was doing a crab walk. The handle on the bathroom door clicked and out came the famous one-fifth One Direction himself, Harry Styles. He was in a towel, his hair was wet and his eyes were wide open, in astonishment. “You're not Louis.” He said it in a nonchalant way, but I knew he was surprised.

“Yeah,” I said as I got up, “I'm not Louis.”

Harry ran his hand through his soaked hair, seeming even more stressed than before. “Look love,” he points to me, “I don't know who you are or how you got in here, but I have to ask you to leave.”

“Excuse me?!” I got fired up.

“I don't need someone telling the media exactly where I am in Chicago. Plus this is my r-”

“Look, I don't need Harry fucking Styles telling me what the hell to do. I reserved this room a week ago so me and my cousin can hang out and chill, but she went to London. So if one of us is going to leave, it better be-”

“Harry, what's all the yelling abo-” An awkward silence filled the room. I decided to break it.

“What do you know. It's not everyday that you are in the presence of Louis Tomlinson.”

“Well, this is awkward...” Said Louis.

 “Care to explain Louie?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

Louis turned to me. “DallFer21?”

“That's me,” I replied, “and it's been a while Louie.” I hugged Louis while Harry stood there in confusion.

“Wait, you know this intruder Lou?”

“She's not an intruder; she's Dr. Dalia Fernandez. The one who got us this room.”



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