At the Wrong Time

Chapter 46: Bikes and Birthdays

At The Wrong Time

Chapter 46: Bikes and Birthdays

Claire's POV

Living in Doncaster began like the England dream I had always hoped to live out much later down the track. But everything seemed to fall into place and even though I had quit my job at Vintage Affair (finally) and even though I hated almost every second of selling out my friendships for them the job had opened a lot of doors for me over here and I could happily say I was working for a much more wholesome job of reporting that didn't require any trading of confidential information.

Recently my job had become my solace, writing articles on more mundane and unglamorous issues was my retreat from the crazy whirlwind that my life had quickly spun into.

In the beginning, it wasn't this way. The paparazzi's left us alone for a few weeks, mainly because we had been visiting Loui's family and having friends over to the apartment mixed in with buying a few new touched for the place. But as soon as things seemed to die down for us, enough to sit back and relax in the evenings rather than clean the place up for the next round of guests we woke up to the sound of chatter and camera flashes.

The act of leaving the blinds open in the morning, once a delight to help me wake up early had now turned into something that was utterly inconceivable, especially after pictures of us lying in bed were splashed around numerous tabloids, Vintage Affair among the mix with Patrick as their newest recruit writing a particularly scathing article.

Now getting up in the mornings began with a grumble before I managed to roll myself out of the bed now empty bed an hour or two later.

After the paparazzi appear Louis had originally been running off to management to try and sort out the whole ordeal but after weeks went by I presumed he'd found a new issue to contend with them over.

Originally I had rapidly grown tired of the constant rendition of dinner parties and guests but as my days grew empty and I had written articles on every contentious topic I could get my grasp on, I began to long for something to occupy myself with, something to do. And a chance to spend more time with Louis outside the evenings he spent at home.

But the fame began to complicate things again, the guests worried about the Paparazzi that hovered around the neighbourhood. So instead Louis resolved to meet up at clubs and bars.

What was once a fun afternoon for the both of us to plan food and spend our time together turned into hours of preparation for me to go out and be photographed and getting in and out of cabs at the start and end of nights, while Louis lounged somewhere in the house on his phone as I longed for a conversation or even to hear him strum the guitar or glide his hands across a crude piano we had set up together.

But the promise of a close party with my band of friends on my upcoming birthday kept me clinging onto a reminder of home and the chance to not get dressed up to the nines for once. As the big day grew closer, so did Louis and I with us purposefully making time for each other for once, outside of just spending the evenings dancing together at clubs.

Getting to talk to another human being was extremely refreshing but as the thought of our apartment full of friends hung in the air, I quickly began to thirst for more.

So when the day arrived and a heavy knock shook the last ounces of sleep that hung over us, I could tell I was in for an out of the ordinary day.

Louis shifted behind me, his form writhing closer to be against mine seeking out the warmest part of the bed.

"You should probably get that," he murmured, his raspy voice gliding in a warm wave over my cheek. I grumbled and shifted to be closer to him, already feeling the cold air wash against the few inches of my face that were exposed.