Look After You - A Louis Tomlinson Love Story

Chapter 8: The Dinner Party

(Louis' POV)

The guys and I were hanging out downstairs in our TV room, waiting for the girls. They had gotten home about an hour ago and well, you know girls; they take forever. We all had on nice suits, and I think we look pretty presentable. I still can't believe I'm going to be in the same room as David Beckham. But I'm even more excited to be Ashley's date, that's what I am, right?

I was just checking twitter when we heard Claire yell that they were ready to go; and we immediately got up and headed out to the living room so we could leave for the party. I entered the room only to see the most perfect, amazing, gorgeous girl I had ever seen in my life; not that she wasn't already that before. Ashley was wearing a long pink dress with gold heels, which she honestly didn't look too comfortable in. Her hair was curled into a side ponytail and I just couldn't stop staring.

"Oh, you look nice too Lou." Ashley joked. I felt my cheeks get really warm, was I blushing?

"Oh. Ha. Um. Y- you look amazing, Bo- er Ashley, sorry." I stuttered. Harry had been calling her "Bo" so much that I had finally caught on to it; I wonder what it means anyway.

"Thanks. And you can call me Bo if you want, most people do." She smiled, oh God I was sweating now. Where is an extra deodorant when you need one?

"Come on you two love-birds, we gotta go or you'll miss Beckham!" Niall shouted, heading out the door.

"NO!" we both shouted in unison, running after him and the car that Harry was slowly driving away.

We finally got him to stop and got into the big car that would take us to Buckingham Palace. I honestly thought that the first time I would be visiting the palace would be to perform for the queen or something, but I'm happy for Ashley. Once the car stopped in front of the entrance, we felt the presence of the paparazzi upon us, practically pushing our car over. Guess somebody knew we were coming.

I grabbed Ashley's hand and we stepped out of the car, more cameras flashed. I just smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry about them. They just want to get some pictures of the most beautiful girl at the party tonight." She giggled and we headed into the party.

(ASHLEY'S POV)

Oh. My. God. I. Am. Dying. Why didn't people use heels and 15-pound dresses as torture devices in the 1800s instead of just making the slaves do all of their housework? I would much rather do housework The second we sat down at our table, I kicked my shoes off and relaxed. Everyone was pretty much here, and the guys were chatting with some of my teammates. I decided to go see Coach, as he was sitting by himself by the stage in the front of the ballroom.

"Hey Coach." I casually waved.

"Woah, is that the Ashley Styles? I didn't even recognize you without you're shorts and grass stains."

"Hahaha, you should be a comedian, coach, I mean really."

"But seriously, you do look very nice." He smiled, taking a sip of his champagne.

"Thank you, so do you. So what am I supposed to do here exactly?" I asked, cause I honestly had no idea what to do, I had never been to anything like this before.

"Just talk to people, you're pretty good at that. In fact, I think there is someone who has been wanting to talk to you. Wait here, I'll go get him." He said, heading over to a table.

I was looking around the room, admiring the artwork, when I heard a man with a British accent coming in my direction. I turned around to see my idol: David Beckham.