Pretty Venom |N.H|

18

As the interview went on, the guys were asked the same, usual, and predictable questions possible. The classics: relationship status, best part about touring, and what their off days look like.

While they were thrilled to make their television debut in America, having middle aged adults with clearly no interest or knowledge about the band interview them didn't make for an interesting conversation. In fact, they all look bored out of their minds — the interviewers included.

When it was over, they practically jumped from their seats to leave. The most enthusiasm on their faces I had seen all morning.

We were escorted to our car, accompanied by the same driver we had on the way here.

The ride back to the hotel was silent, apart from Louis and Liam speaking to each other about the interview. They did most of the talking while Harry nodded his head along. Niall on the other hand wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to anything going on in that room.

Oh, and we did not pick up Niall's Viagra.

I hope he can make it through his next hook-up!

As far as I'm aware, there's nothing else for us to do today. When I was taking a look at all of our tour stops, this was one I was struggling to find something to do in, but I guess I can't complain about having a free day in bed.

When we made it to the hotel the band went back to their rooms while I thanked and tipped our driver. I was also sure to apologize for our comments on the drive to the station. Although it felt great to snap back at Niall, doing it in front of a poor stranger wasn't necessarily a cherry on top, and I was now starting to feel embarrassed for making the comment about his... you know.

I'll get over it.

I checked in on my dad before going back to my room. He was just getting off his call when I knocked, closing his laptop and putting it into his backpack along with his files of contracts and agreements.

"Hey, how'd the interview go?" he waved me into the room, suggesting that I join him.

I fell into the chair placed in the corner room, laying my arms across the armrests as I sighed. "Fine. They seemed bored out of their minds. The band and the interviewers," I started. "I mean, they were like fifty. Which cool good for them, but they clearly didn't know a thing about the band or have any personal interest in them, so the questions were so boring and useless. They didn't even ask about music," I ranted, knowing I had just wasted my morning and they didn't even get anything out it. I mean, they got some TV press, but is it really worth it if the interviewers don't care?

My dad nodded as he listened, a smile on his face as he listens to my ongoing ramble. "Yeah, that'll happen sometimes," he responds, understanding my frustration.

"It's just," I sit up, ready to go on a full rant. "They're really talented, you know? I don't know what you think of their music, but as someone in their demographic, I think they're great and their songs are genuinely good. Plus they put on a really good show," I continued, and my dad laughed at my rambling.

"Maybe you could become an interviewer. That way you can ask important questions to the interviewee," he suggested.

I shrug my shoulders, knowing my people skills probably would need some fine-tuning before I could fill that job position. "What about you? How was your meeting with that new artist?" He had a look on his face like he was hoping I would ask him.

"Great," he smiled out of excitement. "He's a great guy from what I saw. I'll meet him formally when we're back home."

"When tour's over?" I clarify.