At the Wrong Time

Chapter 43: Rooftops and Big Questions

At the Wrong Time

Chapter 43: Rooftops and Big Questions

Claire's POV

The rest of our time in LA breezed by, the last few days filled with avoidance of all the wrong people which seemed to be fine by the boy's I'd rubbed the wrong way who, instead, buried themselves in songwriting and the last bits of recording before we headed back out to meet a particular group of British boys I'd never missed more than those last three days.

The time apart from Louis wasn't as hard as I had originally thought it would be but in the hours I'd spend frequently avoiding running into Ashton or Calum I found myself frequently falling into a sinking feeling that the hours couldn't fly by quick enough til I'd get to see him standing in front of me again.

But all that angst seemed to melt away when I saw his distantly familiar frame, hidden beneath a multitude of clothing items aimed to disguise him the best he could. I felt myself stopping as a dopey smile reached my face, probably due to the hours of jetlag that had hit me like a train getting off the plane a few short minutes ago.

The rest of the group walked past in a drowsy trance, more eager to get to the awaiting taxis than to see a display they'd seen a thousand times before.

I managed to drag myself the last few metres lethargically over until I collided with his chest, my head already bent down and aching for some respite.

A quiet 'aw' slipped out of his mouth as his arms wrapping around my increasingly achy frame, I imagined I could feel every nerve atop my skin, feeling as any contact sent a wave of immediate discomfort as I struggled to adjust to the sensation.

"I didn't think I'd miss you as much as I did," I muttered, acutely aware of my weight against his ribcage, feeling the steady pulse of air returning in and disappearing out.

"Hopefully that's heaps then," he gushed the warmth from his smile trickling into his words.

"I think I'm coming down with something," I groaned, pulling away from the awkwardly positioned embrace, jutting a lip out as I watched my reflection in his sunnies, suddenly feeling the absence of the embrace, we were as far apart as Cali and the Thames again.

"You don't look it like don't worry love," he muttered gently, placing a delicate curl behind my ear.

"Well now I am, thanks for that," I shot back cheekily, never missing an opportunity to be a thorn in someone's side. He responded with a tired laugh, throwing an arm over my shoulder and guided us towards baggage claim.

"Good to know you sent the right Claire back to me," I threw an inquisitive peek his way, "I was starting to worry," I gave his side a gentle pinch, feeling the retraction of his muscle as he tried to jump away from my embrace.

"If I'm gonna be part of this touring thing for the long run you gotta get used to 'Tired Claire'," letting out a timely yawn in the process.

"Oh, I plan on it," he shot back in his own cheeky manner, a blissful smile spread across my own face enough to melt away some of the initial discomforts and reminded me of the man I had truly come back to.

My prediction wasn't wrong, I woke up the next morning in the back of his tour bus with my skin alight with a sharp needle-like sensory fire. I groaned as I stretched out, mirroring the movements of an over tried cat, waking up all the muscles that screamed to still be sleeping and stationery.

Instead, I trudged my way back to the 'groupies', as we had become accustomed to calling ourselves, tour bus. Throwing myself onto my unslept-in bunk where I remained for the next week or so, too worn down to attempt to leave the bus for long periods at a time except for food or water when I couldn't con someone into bringing it into me.