The President's Daughter (Liam Payne) Book 6

Chapter 11

 Elodie’s POV

Mr. Polite closes the door and I resume tickling Lux. I love kids. So innocent, trusting, not a care in the world. I wish things could still be like that. Lou walks in and I release her, letting her run to her mom.

“Oh was she tickling you,” she asks with a laugh as she scoops up her daughter. “Thank you for watching her,” she adds, directing the last part to me. “We’re going to go watch the show now, the 5SOS boys are about to start. Would you like to join us?” I sigh, looking around the empty room. There really was nothing else to do, so I nod my head and follow her out into the hall. We stay backstage, but I can see the younger boys performing. Lauren joins us right before they finish their set.

“Not going to take a seat in front?” she asks when Lou takes Lux out to the front, wearing her little earmuffs, so she could see them clearly.

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll stay the whole thing,” I say with a shrug. I was hoping to persuade security to let me back on the bus so I could actually have something to do.

“What about you? I’d think you’d want to have a good seat to watch your boyfriend.”

“Louis likes it when I sit here. It’s easier for him to see me. He likes to make sure I’m doing alright.”

“Seems pretty controlling to me,” I mutter but she shakes her head.

“It’s not like that. He’s not forcing me to be here. He does it because he cares. I’ve had a rough couple months and he just wants to be able to see me so he knows I’m ok.”

“Do you actually like this kind of music?” I ask next and she shrugs slightly.

“I don’t mind it. It’s not my favorite, I like country, but it’s not bad. They’re talented boys.” The second she mentions country I can’t help but grimace. She lets out a laugh when she notices.

“It’s not for everyone,” she acknowledges. I sit through a couple more songs and sure enough, just like she’d said, Louis kept glancing off in her direction to see if she was all right. Eventually though boredom overtakes me and I wander back towards the dressing room in search of security, planning on grabbing my things before heading back out to the bus. I sling my bag over my shoulder, doing a double take when I notice the pants still in the trash. I hesitate a moment before plucking them out and folding them up, tucking them under my arm and heading out.

I manage to find a guard that looks relatively familiar and I realize it’s one of the ones that my dad must have sent along. When I ask him if I can go out to the bus, he says something into his headset and eventually nods his head when he gets confirmation. He leads me through a maze of hallways until we finally emerge from the back door and can see the bus. Workers are milling around outside so it’s easy to get one of them to direct me to the correct bus. They all looked the same and I was going to have to figure out a way to identify which one was mine. I briefly think about tagging it and it brings a smirk to my face as I imagine graffiti on a bubblegum pop band’s bus. I shake my head with a grin as I think about the possibility of putting a goatee or mustache on the faces plastered on the side in the Nabisco advert.

When I get on the bus, I toss my bag and the pants onto my bunk before digging around in my suitcase and pulling out the small sewing kit I’d brought. I’d planned on using it to fuck with the Christian Military uniforms, but that was no longer an option. I take a seat on my bed as I quickly thread one of the needles and locate the hole in the pants. It really was a big one. I wonder how he did it.  It’s not hard to fix however. I bite off the thread when I’m finished and shake out the pants. It would do. You could see a line if you looked close enough, but it wasn’t too noticeable and it wouldn’t rip again. I set the needle back in the kit and toss it into my suitcase before folding up the pants and heading out the door of the bus.