Chapter Six

“One date.  Seriously.”

 

And then you’ll leave me alone for good?  I wanted to ask.  Because I had been officially ‘working for’ One Direction for ‘bout a week now, and the moment I left my meeting with management he hadn’t left me alone.

 

My first real show was coming up in two days, because we’d had to cancel some on the tour to get everyone ready.  And by everyone, that meant me.  And by canceling a few shows, that meant they were added on to the end of the tour and it seemed like this madness would never end.  Before it even began.

 

“I’m not used to having to work for this,” he continues, smirking.  “Admittedly, I sort of like it.”

 

I frown, resting a hand on his hairy forearm.  He glances down at it, victory shining in his eyes, and I know he thinks I’ve been defeated.  But he’s going to be more disappointed than my little sister when I told her that Josh thought she was a bit of a stalker.

 

“Look, Simon,” I say gently, “I think you’re a wonderful lad and all, really, I do.  It’s actually quite flattering that you fancy me.”

 

“Simon Cowell does not fancy,” he interrupts me, snatching his arm away.

 

“Right, well, whatever you want to call it.  Fancy, smitten, love,” I continue, smiling at the look of horror on his face.  “But it doesn’t matter how many times you ask, because my answer will always be no.  I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix business with pleasure, especially this early on.”

 

“How about in a week?” he asks, checking the calendar on his blackberry.  “I have an opening for next Thursday night.  We’ll be in Boston and we can have dinner in the harbor.”

 

“That sounds lovely,” I tell him, though inside my entire being disagrees.  “I think the real problem with us, if there ever were an us, is that I’m only twenty and you’re, well, not.  My mum would never approve.” 

 

“I can call her,” he offers, winking.  “I’m quite good at charming women.”

 

Even the image of him ‘charming’ my mum makes me want to vomit.  Because he is totally her type and she is everyone’s type.  When we were younger, Josh used to propose to her.  Had the biggest crush.  It was quite embarrassing, actually.  Especially when we went to dinner as families and he would tell off my dad for flirting with her.

 

Not that I’m not totally scarred for life when they kiss in the kitchen or worse, when I actually catch them snogging, because I am.  Still, it was a little awkward when he said that my dad wasn’t ‘man enough’ for mum and that he was.

 

“I don’t doubt that,” I soothe.  Slowly inching away.  “Maybe in a few years, yeah?  When I’m a little bit older.  That is, if you aren’t married by then.”

 

“Trust me,” he smirks.  “Even if I’m married, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

 

Except it wasn’t an offer, it was sort of my polite way of saying ‘please leave me the hell alone and get out of my hotel room.  I want to go skateboarding.’ 

 

“Well, bye,” I wave, watching him walk down the carpeted hallway and then step into the elevators.  Once he is completely gone, I exhale loudly, leaning against the door, debating what to do next.

 

Because Josh is off gallivanting somewhere with Niall Horan, which means I am absolutely not invited.  Harry Styles and Zayn Malik can’t look at me without becoming embarrassed, so any conversation attempts are pointless.  Liam Payne says I remind him of his older sister Nicola, who apparently threatens him with spoons.  Which leaves me with one option.

 

Gathering my ‘necessities,’ I walk up the poorly marked stairs and barge into Louis Tomlinson’s suite, which he shares with Harry.  Completely unannounced.  He screams, clutching at his grey hoodie.  Why?  Because it’s Louis ‘the Tommo’ Tomlinson. 

 

“You startled me,” he shouts, flashing one of his famously weird faces.

 

I flop onto his unmade bed, settling myself under the covers.  I’m not sure when I became close with Louis, but it was probably around the same time Joshy stopped being available twenty-four slash seven.

 

Doesn’t even respond to my texts much anymore.  Louis though?  He calls me on the phone some nights and invites me over and we watch films until we fall asleep.  He’s even introduced me to Eleanor Calder, over Skype.  Who is by far one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.

 

“Didn’t feel like knocking,” I shrug, patting the bed beside me.  He flings himself onto it dramatically, his elbow landing on my stomach.  I groan and instead of apologizing, he digs his head into it, making himself comfortable.  I play with his hair, messing it up further.

 

“How short are you?” he asks me, turning his face so that I can see him fluttering his eyelashes rapidly.

 

“S’not short, it’s fun sized,” I mumble.  “But to answer your question, I’m five feet.  And a half.”

 

“When I started the X Factor I was 5’5,” he admits.  “Was a bit hard getting girls back then.  Good thing I’m just so brilliant and funny,” he cheekily adds.

 

“I can’t even reach 5’5 in heels,” I pout.  “I was a legal midget until my junior year of high school.  You would have loved to tear the mickey outta me.”

 

“What?!” he gasps scandalized.  “Are you saying I don’t do that now?”

 

I smack his head and he grins up at me, nuzzling his nose into my unattractive double chin.  But that’s what happens when you lie down on a bed and try to stare at someone resting on your chest.

 

“Babe, can I ask you something?” he asks and I sort of grunt my yes.  My eyes were starting to drift closed when he began speaking again.  “When… when did we become so boring?  No offense, love.”

 

“Offense taken,” I say before I can help it.  “We.  Are.  Not.  Boring.”

 

“Usually,” he agrees, looking down and then stretching his lips into a smile.  “I mean I think you’re brill, and everyone knows I’m brill, but it’s nearing noon and we’re about to take a nap.  Babe, that’s boring.”

 

I’m so startled that I sit up in bed immediately.  Emory Anne Clark is not boring.  She doesn’t even do boring.  See?  She’s so fun that she speaks in third person.  It’s a right laugh.

 

“No idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him seriously, rolling out of bed and onto the floor.  He lands on top of me, further crushing my internal organs.  “Get off me and I’ll prove it.”

 

“What’s the point?  There’s nothing to do in this hotel,” he complains, “and Paul won’t let me leave the property.”

 

I stand up and glare down at him, placing my hands on my hips.  He rolls his eyes and jumps to his feet, making a big show of dusting off his clothes and ruffling my dark hair.

 

“Okay master, tell me what to do,” he jokes.

 

“Put something comfortable on your feet, because I’m going to teach you how to skateboard,” I announce proudly, puffing out my chest.

 

“Em, love, I know how to skateboard,” he laughs, grabbing my face and pinching my cheeks.

 

“Do you?”

 

“I guess we’ll have to found out,” he holds out his arm, “mi’lady.”

 

*

 

I bend over to tie the laces on my trainers and Louis whistles, making me topple over from laughing so hard.  We had stopped by my room for a few refreshments, which somehow turned into ordering ice cream sundaes for lunch and getting into a whipped cream fight.  The remnants were still on our clothes.

 

“Are the Power Ranger elbow and kneepads really necessary?” Louis asks me, making a face. 

 

“Do you want to die?” I ask with a straight face.  When he makes no comment, I continue with, “then yes, the pads are necessary.”

 

He pretends to think it over, stroking an imaginary beard on his chin.

 

“Does that mean I can keep them?“

 

When I nod, he wraps his arms around my waist and spins me ‘round, my shorts legs flailing behind me.

 

His random displays of mately affection manage to catch me off guard while simultaneously being exactly what I need.  This is the precise reason we are such great mates for each other to have.  According to him, I look and act like Eleanor, though I know I’m nowhere near as pretty.  And he is so much fun that I can’t miss Josh when we’re together.  I’m far too busy.    

 

“See, when participating in Emory’s Extreme Sports, the helmets, kneepads, and elbows are completely necessary,” I inform him cheekily.  “Can’t have me being sued for ruining your pretty face.”

 

“Extreme sports?” he asks.  “As in plural?  There are more?”

 

His opens his mouth in pretend-shock, making me snort.

 

“Mais oui,” I laugh.

 

Another brilliant thing about being great mates with Louis?  We can both speak a little bit o’ French.  This means we are able to have secret conversations about people when they are in the same room, completely clueless.  Works on Harry quite well, though he gets a little pissy and Lou and then we have to lie and say we were talking about the weather or something.

 

“Well, give me some names,” he prods, pinching my sides.  I buckle over.  “Don’t leave me hanging or there’s more where that comes from.”

 

“Fine,” I sigh loudly, “if I must.  There’s Roof Jumping, Jumping from Roofs into Pools, Extreme Trampoline, Pants Around Ankles Races, Iceball Fights, and Tag! You’re Fit, to name a few of them.”

 

“Tag you’re fit?” he laughs loudly, clapping his hands over his face and jumping up and down.  “What the hell does that involve?”

 

Embarrassing yourself.

 

What I say instead is, “Running up to a fittie of the opposite gender and saying ‘Tag! You’re Fit!’  If they respond, you get a point.  If they give you their number, you get five.  And if they walk away, that’s negative two.”

 

My little sister Auburn and I created this game when we were vacationing in Belgium once, because we happened to be staying in a small town with over 500 boy scouts camping out in the woods around us. 

 

I know when you hear the phrase ‘Belgian boy scouts’ you think of little lads running around in uniforms and carving things out of wood with their little pocketknives.  We did too, until we saw them.  Every single one was attractive, drunk, and over the age of eighteen. 

 

I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again. 

 

“I have to tell the lads that,” he cheers, pulling out his iPhone.  It’s actually quite the sight, seeing a twenty-year-old in a hoodie and chinos, with a Power Rangers helmet, kneepads, and elbows pads, balancing on a skateboard while talking animatedly into his cellular device.

 

“Be sure to give credit where credit is due,” I sing.

 

Glancing around the hotel parking lot, I’m surprised how basically alone we are.  No screaming fan girls.  No girls running around in towels.  No people asking for autographs.  No Simon Cowell.  Which reminds me, I need to share the good news.

 

“Louis,” I whisper creepily, matching him twitch.  “Lou-is.”

 

When he doesn’t respond, I launch myself onto his back, wrapping my legs tightly around his stomach.  The momentum of my attack, along with the force of the moving skateboard, sends us right into a little bush. 

 

He grunts, but I’m feeling quite nice as his body cushioned my fall.

 

“Yes?” he groans, hanging up his phone without even saying goodbye.  Makes me feel sort of special, because I know he hung up on one of his precious band mates for me.

 

“Feel special, because you’re going to be the first person to hear the good news,” I tell him, plucking a leaf from his shiny hair.  “Before I came to your room, Simon and I had a lil’ chat.”  I pause dramatically.  “Basically, he’s realized that it’s never going to happen and will finally leave me alone!” 

 

“Seriously?” he yells.  “Wow.  Amazing, babe!”

 

Giggling, I climb out of the bush and extend my hand to help Louis as well.  He gives me the biggest grin possible before picking me up and spinning me around, going in circles until we’re both so dizzy that we collapse in a heap on the ground.  We lie there, covered in twigs and giggling like loons, until a throat clears above us.

 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Reviews

[Sophie]

So i started reading this and I was like, 'omg, this girl is hilarious, I'm going to keep reading'.
But the name 'Devine' didn't click into my head until you said Joshua Devine and I went... One Direction's Joshua Devine? And then I started completely fangirling and scrolled to the top to see the tags, and sure enough, I discovered this is a fanfiction!!!! My life is literally complete. An amazing, funny writer combined with 1D AND the main character is bestfriends with Louis Tomlinson? Just heaven. Heaven.