The President's Daughter (Liam Payne) Book 6

Chapter 12

Elodie’s POV

The bus door bursts and not only does Curls get on our bus, but also Cheekbones.

“And we’re off,” Curls crows as the bus starts moving, taking a seat on the couch and pulling a very tired toddler into his lap. I watch with mild interest as he blows on her cheek.

“Mind if I sit here?” Cheekbones asks, pulling my attention away from the pair. I reflexively close my sketchpad, seeing him standing next to the table I was sitting at, slightly away from everyone else.

“It’s a free country.” I shrug. “Or at least that’s what Dad is always saying.”

“Well this isn’t my country so I was just making sure,” he jokes, sliding into a seat across from me. “So what were you working on?”

“It was nothing,” I say with a shrug, inching it slightly closer to me.

“Didn’t look like nothing,” he prompts but I remain silent. “Did you know I have a graffiti room at my house?” he asks after a couple seconds of silence.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“It’s kind of like my own art studio, only I do stuff more like you I think. The walls are covered with spray paint. Here, let me show you,” he says as he pulls out his phone. I can’t help the feeling of curiosity as I crane my neck to watch as he pulled up pictures. Eventually he must’ve found them because he turns the phone to me so I can see.

“Wow, this is really cool,” I say as I scroll through the pictures of the graffiti on the walls. “I’d kill to have something like this.”

“Yea, it’s pretty nice,” he says with a grin, accepting his phone back once I’ve finished looking at the pictures. He doesn’t say anything and after a moment I reluctantly slide my sketchbook over to him.

“It’s not much…I just…They’re doodles.” I mutter as he begins flipping through the pages.

“Yea, and Beethoven’s fifth was just him hitting some keys,” he scoffs.

“I think that might be a slight exaggeration,” I say with a laugh, but he’d succeeded in putting me at ease. He glances up at me with a smirk before looking back down at the drawings.

“But seriously, these are good,” he says when he closes it. “If you’re ever in London, you should stop by my place and try out the studio.”

“Thanks, that sounds great,” I say as I take back my book, knowing the chances of me ever going anywhere out of this country were slim. We moved off the subject of the drawings and onto the preferred medium. Both of us agreed that spray paint was the best, but we disagreed on others. While he preferred basic pencils and markers for his cartoonish type drawings, I liked my conte crayons. Sure, they were a little messier, but they were great for shading.

Finally though, Lux starts getting grumpy. A sleepy two-year-old is probably one of the loudest, most unhappy things.

“Ok, come on Luxy let’s get you to bed,” Lou groans, plucking the squirming child off Curly’s lap.

“I can take her,” I say, surprising everyone, myself included.

“Oh you don’t have to—“ she says shaking her head.

“It’s ok. I’m kind of tired anyways.” I say, shifting the child from her arms to mine.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I say glancing at Cheekbones as I tuck my book under an arm and carry the little girl into the back. She starts whining when I lay her in her own bed and doesn’t stop until I crawl in with her. I wrap my arms around her as the little girl curls against me and I rest my head on top of hers. We stay there, unmoving until her breath slows as she drifts off to sleep, I following shortly after.