Simon's Daughter

Chapter 18

*Warning/Spoiler: I am not responsible for anything that happens physically or mentally to any Loubriella shipper during this chapter. Or other shippers. Love you all though. But don't sue me.*

One uncomfortable plane ride, physically and mentally, the awkward reshuffling of room partners, and one bad night’s sleep later and I was now stabbing at the breakfast food on my plate with my fork. I’d taken three bites of a pancake, eaten one piece of bacon, and stabbed an omelet so many times I’d lost track. Louis sat next to me, glancing between my face, my basically untouched, yet at the same time mutilated food, my I-don’t-know-what-to-call-her-anymore, and my would-be boyfriend. The discomfort radiating off him was palpable, and I’m sure I was the same way.

Zayn, ever the people reader, kept glancing between us and our stiff demeanor as well. He probably kind of understood why I was infuriated, but didn’t know the whole story. Knowing him though, he’d have a pretty good guess about what happened that would be close enough to the truth by the end of the day, however.

Liam looked like he wasn’t really sure what was happening. Utterly clueless. His eyes would periodically flick over the four of us in complete confusion, before striking up a conversation with someone else. He clearly had no idea why I’d gone from happy to sad in half a second last night, only that it had to do with Emily, and his poor brain was still trying to sort it out.

Harry looked like he could know. He and Louis were best buddies after all, I wouldn’t blame Lou if he’d told Haz everything. I expected it, to be honest. Harry was keeping up a steady conversation with Josh, who didn’t know anything at all. He wasn’t in the dressing room when things first became tense, and while I’m sure he knew things weren’t right, he probably didn’t know why at all.

And Niall. Bless his heart, he was sitting there chatting to Emily like nothing was wrong. She smiled a sickly sweet smile at him, and I stabbed my omelet again. It was like neither of them noticed, or cared, that Louis and I were sitting like we had two by fours strapped to our back and that I was glaring at everything and everyone I laid eyes on.

“You have to talk to them at some point,” Louis muttered to me under my breath. “I’m on your side in all of this, but you have to sort it out.”

“No,” was my short response. “I don’t.” I viciously stabbed my omelet a few more times, shredding off a couple more pieces.

“Abriella and I are going for a walk!” Louis announced suddenly, standing up, grabbing my hand and effectively dragging me out the door.

“No! Louis, I don’t want to!” I whined. “I just want to snuggle up under a heavy blanket, watch sappy chick flicks, get fat eating tubs of Ben & Jerrys, and cry a bunch. Leave me be!”

“No, Abriella, we’re discussing this and we’re discussing this now,” his voice held a note of finality I’d never heard before and I immediately lost all nerve to argue. For once, he was acting his age, and honestly, it was rather intimidating.

“Look, you’ve had your heart broken. I get that. It’s happened to everyone. But you’re Simon Cowell’s daughter. If anyone can get through something like this, it’s you, got it?” He looked into my eyes, raising one eyebrow.

“It’s just… her. I don’t even know what to do anymore. Why would she do this to me?”