Error. [H.S.]

9.

"What happens when we run out of clean underwear?" Niall rambled his list of questions to Liam and Louis, nudging the exterior of his hard shelled suitcase with his toes. "No way in hell I packed enough underwear for three bloody months. I don't even own that many."

"Wash them in the sink, I guess." Liam shrugged, hoisting his duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You imbeciles really think they won't have anywhere for us to wash our clothes? Or that any of the cities we're in won't have a laundromat?" The voice of reason spoke up, and for a moment, I swear I caught Louis questioning how either of them were smart enough to make it on ESU in the first place.

"Could always buy more." Beck teetered her head from side to side, stretching her neck to alleviate any pent up tension from the team's early morning workout. I'm all for inclusion and getting to do a lot of what the team does, but their daily two hour morning workouts are something I'm happy to sit out for.

"Or just not wear any." I point out from my seat on the concrete steps of the precinct, awaiting Harry's tour buses to arrive.

Those five words compiled together to make the longest sentence I had bothered to utter so far this morning. My mind was adamant on rewinding my last encounter with Harry, elegantly twirling me back into his manipulative waltz anytime I dared to acknowledge a thought that strayed me away from that damn sticky note.

Within the next few minutes, our lives as we know them will be uprooted and thrown into the riveting world of life as roadies, and as quick as I was thrown into this, I felt myself spiraling down a rabbit hole of regret. Every movement made by each and every one of us was calculated with the intent of keeping the media proclaimed 'Prince of Rock and Roll' safe, but perhaps we were the one's needing protection from him. After our encounter in the studio, I've used just about every excuse to avoid being in his presence.

"When in doubt, go commando!" A cheer erupted from Niall, his hips rotating in a circular shimmy.

"Jesus, don't put ideas in his head." Louis sighed, pressing his head against the brick wall to his rear. "Why the hell not? You know you want in on the Nialler action!" His shimmy didn't stop as he turned to face his annoyed teammate.

"Nobody wants in on the 'Nialler action'." A light shove to the chest put an end to the dancing, but amusement never strayed far from Niall's face.

"Relax, Lou. He's just excited that he's on his way to artificial stardom." Liam popped his head up to nod at the tour identical tour buses pulling into the gated lot to get to us.

"Artificial? What the fuck does that mean? I'm as raw and real as it gets!" Niall's warm laughter relaxed my intense thoughts, urging a smile out of me.

Even in my quick attempts to hide my amusement, he managed to catch me at the last second. "There she is." His pitch had lowered, speaking directly to me in a calm and collected manner as he trudged over to stand between my legs - a position we often find ourselves in. "Getting cold feet, petal?" His hands reached down in search of my own.

"Just a lot on my mind." I shrug, gently gripping his hands with my own. I give his hands a small, playful tug, pulling him down towards me until he's finally squatting in front of me.

"Want to talk about it?" A small pout puckers out his lower lip in the cute little way it does whenever he's trying to sympathize with me.

"I actually want to talk to my dad about it, but he never comes up for air anymore, so there's never a good time." I explain, dropping my eyes down to look at our hands. His fingers weave through mine almost perfectly, naturally sculpting together so effortlessly, gripping my hands in a protective manner.