Chapter Fifty-Six
Roxy’s POV
Something brushed against my hand and I snapped it back through the navy blue curtain, whacking my wrist on the low-ceiling. “Fuck.” I muttered.
“Sorry, mate.” Someone whispered. Zayn maybe? I groaned in reply. Despite the fact that we were crammed into a tiny sleeping cubby, I was cold. This was probably due to the fact that half of my body was hanging outside of the curtain, since Niall fell asleep before I did and was hogging the good spot against the wall.
“Shove over.” I mumbled, grinding my hips backward in effort to secure more room on the almost-comfortable mattress.
“Come ‘ere.” He hummed into my hair, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me in. He went right back to snoring softly. The clock in cluster of electronics tucked onto the shelf at our feet said 7:30, which means I’d actually only gotten about an hour and a half of sleep. My lids were incredibly heavy, and I knew it was going to take some serious effort on my part to make sure I didn’t look like a worn-out sorority girl when we finally stepped off of this bus. Hopefully Paul could work some magic and we could duck into the hotel without having to endure the cameras or the crowds.
At least, I hoped we were going to a hotel. I could really use a decent shower.
—
(nine hours earlier)
As I had waited for the boys to get changed out of their stage-clothes, I unloaded the grocery bags that had been delivered to the bus. It was all junk food, except for the one Organic Carrot Beet Ginger Protein Smoothie, which I tucked into the door of the small fridge for Harry.
There was a serious lack of beer.
I fiddled with the stereo equipment, grateful that the bus came with satellite radio. I turned on the 90’s station, and let the sweet sounds of The Gin Blossoms filter through the speakers as I pulled my hair up off of my shoulders and into a ponytail, realizing I had forgotten to turn the laminated pass hanging from the red and white lanyard around my neck back into the stage manager. I hurried down the metal stairs and rapped loudly on the door at the side of the arena, flashing my pass at the large man who opened it.
I passed the large poster that read “Access Restricted-Talent Does Not Require Identification” with their five photos pasted beneath. The backstage area will still pretty chaotic, the road crew packing up equipment and stylists tucking supplies back into large plastic bins. I scanned the faces, looking for the stage manager. Angela was her name. I think.
Eventually, I gave up, and headed for the closed white door labeled “Private” and turned the handle. “Whoa!” Louis said, fumbling for his pants, quickly pulling them up over his bare feet and fastening them. The other four just stood there in their white boxer shorts and crew-length socks. Harry laughed at Louis’ shyness. The room was decent sized, with plain white cinder block walls. There were two large couches which were currently holding only the boys’ random pieces of clothing, and tables lined against the wall, only the least favorable food and drink items remaining on the trays there.
“Hey babe.” Niall said.
“Is this what you guys do in here?” I laughed. “Hang out in your undies?”
“Yeah, we’re airing out.” Liam said.
“Lovely.” I muttered.
“What’s up?” Niall said.
I held up the plastic card. “Forgot to give this to Angela. Have you seen her?”
“It’s Andrea.” Niall smirked, hauling a white t shirt over his head. “I’ll come help you track her down.”
It didn’t take long for him to spot her, and she checked my name off the list on her clip board, slipping the lanyard over her own neck into the growing collection she had there for safe-keeping. Niall gripped my hand tightly and led me back through the crowd toward the same door I had used to get in. “Stick with me, darlin’ and you won’t need a stupid pass.” He smiled, trying his best chat-up line.
“Ooo, fancy man.” I said as we rushed through the cold night air and onto the tour bus. The door latched shut behind us and I plopped down onto the upholstered seating.
“Are your ears still ringing?” he said grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before joining me. I shook my head no. He cracked the seal and handed the water to me, and I took a drink before giving it back. He guzzled the whole bottle down and tossed it into the wastebasket near the door.
“It was a good show.” I said. “You rearranged a few of the songs, yes?”
“Mmmhmm” he mumbled into my lips, stealing a few sweet kisses since we found ourselves with a few minutes of alone time. His skin was still radiating heat, but his breath was cool and minty. I knew he had to be physically exhausted, but I could tell that mentally he was all wound-up. It would be a while before he was ready to sleep. The door pulled open and the boys trampled in, Zayn immediately changing the station to something with a beat. Liam flicked on the t.v. and un-paused his video game as Louis pried open a bag of chips that sat on the counter and started to munch away. Harry grabbed his smoothie from the fridge and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of me, turning to give a little pout. “My neck hurts.” He whined before turning back around.
I pretended not to notice the hint he had dropped, eventually giving in when he said “Please, Roxy?”, slowly working my thumb and palm over the tight muscles in his neck. He groaned as I increased pressure, rocking his head from side to side.
“The hell is this?” Niall said, as the driver climbed into his seat and the bus pulled around the back of the building and out of the large steel gates.
“She’s good.” Harry muttered.
“I know she’s good!” Niall complained.
“Hush.” I said, adjusting myself on the cushion. “You’re next.”
Niall’s POV
Round about three in the morning, we begged the driver to pull into the nearest Truck Stop. Best I could tell, we were in the middle of nowhere, so I didn’t think it would be an issue for us to take a few minutes to replenish our snack supply and have a wee. Liam loved Truck Stops, but more-so for the weird and random items sold there rather than the sweets. He made a hasty dash through the doors and directly into the corner of the store where a large stuffed alligator hung on the wall.
Roxy was just thrilled to have full access to her favorite American treats. She must have walked up and down the aisle three times before putting her hand on her hips, and starting to narrow down her choices. “How do I pick?” she sighed, pulling a bag of crackers from their peg. “Is this good?” I pointed. “Yep.” She said. I took the candy from the shelf and tossed it into the plastic hand trolley. “And this?” I asked. “One of my favorites.” She said. In the pile it went. “What are these?” I said, pointing to a small box on the bottom shelf. “Yum!” she said.
I grabbed a couple of drinks from the cooler and hoisted the basket on the counter as the man behind the plexi-glass scanned the items, one-by-one. “Fifty-six seventy-two.” He said. I handed over my credit card as she dug through the bag, unable to wait. “Christ, this is a haul.” I said.
“I’m not sharing.” She said, taking a bite of her neon pink taffy. I took her by the wrist and brought the candy to my mouth as she struggled against my grip, and bit off the largest chunk I could manage.
—
“Who ya talking to?” I said peeling my eyes from the flat screen. I was giving Liam a beating, which was a good thing, because he’s been dominating in FIFA lately.
“Twitter.” She said, tapping away at the screen. She pulled the lollipop from her lips and added “Nosy”.
I knew she was lying, but I didn’t bother to press her. I had been so focused on the game that I hadn’t noticed that Louis had ditched our raging party to lay in his bunk, or that Harry and Zayn were using my girlfriend as their personal art canvas. She had the legs of her jeans cuffed up over her knees, her legs kicked up onto the sofa as each of the boys dragged ballpoint pens over her pale skin, one on each leg. Harry’s was a smattering of random designs of various sizes, while Zayn had worked out an intricate design with flowers and a tiny self-portrait along her calf.
“Is that Elvis?” she said, not knowing how sexy she looked with that lolly between her lips. Zayn put the cap on his pen and got to his feet. Harry burst into laughter, and must have pressed a bit too hard on her flesh, as she flinched slightly.
“It’s me.” Zayn said, offended. He crossed his arms and slumped down next to Liam.
“Aww, Zayney.” She laughed, examining the temporary tattoo a little closer. “Look, I’ve been branded!” she said in my direction as Liam’s midfielder slipped the ball between my goalie’s legs. Liam dropped his controller to the floor and leapt into the air “GOAL!” he yelled. “That’s game, then.”
“Finally.” Roxy sighed. “Put the dancing game in.” She yanked her leg out from Harry’s skilled hand and stood up, stretching her arms over head and jumping up and down, apparently needing to be extra limber for an intense dance battle.
“Can we take a vote?” I groaned, noting the clock read 4:00 a.m.
“Nope.” She said, snatching the controller and pulling up her avatar on the screen. While the lads and I spent the afternoon doing another circuit of boring radio interviews, she’d spent it creating the perfect likeness of each of us; although I’d like to argue she made me a little too short. She scrolled through the song list quickly, already knowing what she was after. “Ready Horan?”
“No, I think Harry wants to go first.” I complained.
“Get your ass up here.” She said.
The music started and she moved her hips back and forth, as I tried to duplicate the movements of my video-game self. I couldn’t believe I was doing this; I was totally sober. Mid-way through the song, I gave up on the game and turned toward her, placing my hands on her hips as she swayed. “Hey girl, I like the way you move. Wanna come back to my place?” I said, pulling my best Chav impression.
She couldn’t care less; laser-focused on the points she was racking up at the bottom of the screen. “You give up?” she said, a bit short of breath. I swatted her on the bottom and took a seat, Zayn and Liam already placing bets on who would come out victorious in their battle.
“Getting tired, babe?” I said hopefully, pulling her onto my lap. She stretched her arms and fingertips as I gripped her tightly, the bag of pretzels just out of her reach. Harry kicked the bag toward her with the tip of his brown shoe before leaning his head back against the window with a smile. “Thanks.” She muttered, pulling a few pretzels from the bag before offering it around and scooping up her phone from the table.
“Tired?” I repeated.
“Not really.” She smiled, calling out the songs she thought the boys should select from their menu of options as she tapped at the screen once again. As much as I wanted her to give in and come cuddle with me in the bunk, I loved that she was so comfortable hanging with the guys. Even today while we were busy, she kept herself occupied without complaining. She made all of the stuff that was normally such a headache seem so easy. I gripped her chin between my thumb and forefinger and turned her head, her eyes widening as I kissed her, hard.
“What was that for?” She smirked against my lips.
I gave her another quick kiss in substitute of a reply. “I’m knackered.” I yawned, eyeing the dark row of curtains, my bed for the evening just out of sight.
“Want me to tuck you in?” Roxy said.
“You’re disgusting.” Harry replied. She rolled her eyes.
“No babe, hang here.” I said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “See you in a bit?”
“Mmmhmm.” She smiled.
The boys yelled their goodnights to me as I climbed up into the bunk and pulled the curtain closed, pulling off my socks and tucking them at the foot of the mattress. Bits and pieces of the conversation drifted in through the heavy fabric; her laugh the loudest and clearest of it all.
I lay awake for half an hour just listening.