For better, For worse | Louis Tomlinson |

Chapter three

Louis walked to the security guard and spoke with him for a moment before the uniformed man made a call on his phone and then gave him a thumbs up. He turned and half jogged back over to me, the neon lights shining across his face. "Okay we're good to go. Emm.. we are gonna go out the back though. Gotta try to avoid the paps. They're fuckin' relentless."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along next to him, keeping my body close to his. We made our way through the clubs main-floor and down another dark hall with a door at the end. The door illuminated by a red exit sign was opened by a tall man and the thick Miami heat fell over us as we exited the air-conditioned building. The roar of the drunken crowd slowly dies down behind us.

There were several cars in the dimly lit alley-way. All similar in make and model. I held my purse close to my body and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly nervous again. Louis tightened his grip around me and we were ushered into a blacked-out SUV, a few cars back from the exit. A man in a black t-shirt that read security, closed the door behind us and we were left alone in the dark for just a few seconds before another man, as equally large, got into the drivers seat and we began to move.

I sent a quick text to my friends informing them of my plans for the night and enabled the find my iPhone feature, my leg bouncing absent-mindedly. He must have taken notice of just how nervous I was again because he turned his body towards mine and started to speak. "You wanna get somethin' to eat? I'm starved out." I looked up from my phone and nodded. "Sure, I'm always down for food." I tried my best to sound as positive as possible. "Great." He smiled at me, the shadows casting over his face, only illuminating for brief moments when the lights would shine in from the passing nightlife around us.

I decided to try to calm myself down and only freak out if it came down to it. Like if I was being stuffed into a van with a bag over my head. I relaxed my arms and sat my purse in the seat beside me. "So where are you staying?" I turned my body to face his now, my back to the window. He turned his the same and rested his hand on my knee.

"We're staying at the Aqualina, it's over on the beach." I nodded my head having heard of the resort before. "I think I know where that is." I remember when we were booking the trip, that was one of the first places that Chris suggested we stay. I also remember how we all laughed when he told us it was at LEAST five grand a night.

"It's a nice place, super chill and relaxed. Everyone is really nice and it's kept private. We've stayed here a few different times." I think back to earlier in the night when he mentioned that he was in the music industry, a band I think. He must be pretty successful if he has to worry about paparazzi and can just blow thirty-five grand on a week at a hotel.

I hadn't pressed him on more information because he had seemed so interested in me and what it was like to be an interior designer. He let me drone on and on about the people I work for and how some of them are insane for the things they want but I'm not allowed to judge them openly. How they just blow all their money on the stupidest things just because they have it.  I pondered apologizing to him for not knowing who he was. I felt bad for not at least knowing his face. It's definitely one that I would have remembered seeing.

We pulled into the drive-thru of a McDonald's close to where he was staying and both vocally noted the abundance of people who clearly also had a hankering for a late-night snack. The line was wrapped all the way around to the road. "Shit, mate. It'll be dinner time tomorrow before we make it through this." He reach forward between the seats and lifted the center console, revealing a small built-in cooler.

He dug around for a second and seemed to be struggling to grab whatever it was he was looking for. Our driver must have also taken note because be pushed his hand aside guiding him to what he was searching for. He pulled out a small bottle of champagne and closed the console back. "Yesss, Alex. Thank you. What would I do without you, mate." The quiet man just lightly smiled and shook his head. "Be dead probably." I giggled softly as he sat back into his seat and started to open the bottle, popping it open with ease.