Chapter 1: Who Said I Wasn't Happy?

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[AN: Enjoy the sequel darlings! <3Bekah]

[MONTHS LATER, ANNABELLE’S POV]

There are a lot of things I really detest about tours. Sure, when people imagine touring around the world with one of the top musical acts in the world they assume it’s all amazing. They picture fancy tour buses, first class plane tickets, and getting to see the world. Champagne is poured into crystal glasses as they toast their successes every evening. They hang out with other stars of screen and stage posting pictures on Twitter of all their adventures. Adventures normal folk never got to go on.

You wish.

For every girl who writes those fan fictions I want to tell you something right now. Something to keep in mind when you describe the lavish touring lifestyle of the boys in your little stories.

Touring is absolute shit.

We don’t giggle as we sneak from hotel room to hotel room. It’s really all sleepless nights because you are not comfortable in your own bed at home. Not to mention the horror of jet lag. Try falling asleep after being in Tokyo for a week once you get back to England. It’s bloody impossible. Oh—and did I mention the minute you get comfortable and fall asleep you are woken by some roadie or production assistant insisting you all need to get up and head to the next rehearsal, interview, or required dinner.

I will eat when I damn well please!

And all those “dedicated fans” who stand outside the hotel at eight in the morning to sing to the boys? Do you think you are all cute?

Put a sock in it! Some of us are trying to sleep, and it’s not adorable at all!

Sorry for going off on the tangent. Where was I? Oh yes, touring. There is a lot about touring that I don’t like. I have listed many, but the number one item trumps all of those.

Tour bus bathrooms.

They are tiny, cramped, and flush poorly. But I’m stuck on this damn bus for at least two more days so it will have to do. I’m currently on my knees in this bathroom quickly losing my dinner from last night. As I waited for the nausea to subside I silently envisioned a remodel to the bathroom. Open up a few walls here and there. It desperately needed more space. At the very least I could get a mat or something that would cushion my knees if this morning ritual continued to be a regular occurrence.

“Anna? Anna Banana?” I heard Liam call out. Shit. He has amazing timing sometimes. I flushed again praying that the smell of vomit had dissipated from the small space. I stood unsteadily splashing water on my face before opening the door and popping out. I needed a toothbrush or at minimum some gum to cover my breath.

“I’m right here Li Bear,” I softly cooed as I choked back another wave of nausea. Not now body. Please not now. “Just putting on my face.”

“Babe, were you sick again?” Liam asked the concern immediately etched upon his face. Apparently I can’t hide anything from him. That used to be so adorable that he knew everything about me. It’s become annoying since I have been trying to hide things from him. “Why don’t I ask the label to recommend a doctor for you?”

“Yeah, because I want advice from the people who didn’t even want you and me to be together. Why don’t we just call my Dad next?” I immediately felt guilty for snapping at him. Liam’s puppy dog eyes still have a heavy effect on me. Stupid hormones. “It’s probably just riding in this bus for so long. I’m just getting bus sick. That can be a thing right?” Liam nodded, but I had a feeling my excuse was about as believable as leprechauns riding unicorns.

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