Turquoise (L.S)

XXIII

You can probs tell from the picture that shit is about to go down. PLEASE don't kill me and enjoy!!! :)

BTW thank you for 43k reads. You're all certified legends! I loved reading all your theories and I'm excited to continue surprising you all :))

Rain pelted down against the glass, creating mellifluous sounds, which contrasted with the clatter of cutlery and occasional murmurs from the customers. Blackboard signs were littered with menus and dusty chalk stains, as they hung above the counter, and crumbs covered almost every surface; some finding their home on the dirty, unswept floor.

The small blue eyed boy sat in the corner of the quaint low budget cafe with his hands resting on the traditional blue and white checkered tablecloth. There was a frown on his face as he checked the clock once more. He left out a frustrated sigh and reached for another greasy chip that was slathered in tomato sauce.

What was he even doing here? He groaned and took a gulp of his Yorkshire tea, trying not to squirm at the weak brew. He'd had worse but it didn't quite live up the one that... No he wasn't going to even entertain that idea or think of that person.

"Louis Tomlinson?" So swept up in his own emotions, he failed to notice the bell chime and the striking young woman enter. She was wearing a long, dark trench coat, and carried an expensive leather briefcase. Her hair was jet black and sat in a blunt bob with a block fringe. Her features were sharp and angular, making her seem like a sea siren, or some other mythical creature. It was nerve wracking... she was almost... predator-like.

Louis blinked once and then again, before registering that she had said his name.

"I am indeed," He replied, clearing his throat, and offering her the seat in front of him. She sent him a small smile that looked more like a grimace and slid into the cheaply made bistro chair.

"I'm Ella Hewitt from the Sun. We spoke on the phone?" She took off her coat, revealing a fitted blood red suit underneath.

"You're late," He glanced at the small clock on the off-white wall and noted that the hand was pointed at half past when they had agreed to meet at quarter past.

"Yeah well," Ella huffed as she glanced around at the cafe. Her face warped into disgust and her nose wriggled as she watched the waitress drop off a plate of cheesy nachos at a nearby table. "You gave me quite an obscure meeting place,"

Choosing to ignore her snobbery, Louis held out a greasy potato slice and smirked.

"Chip?"

She eyed the fried vegetable like it was a disease and shook her head.

"I'm good thanks," She muttered before pulling out hand sanitiser and meticulously scrubbing at her hands. Louis tried not to smirk at her over-dramatic actions.

"Why did you invite me here Louis?" She questioned, once the cleaning gel was back in her outrageously expensive briefcase.

Louis swallowed and looked out at the rain through the window. Pedestrians were running and searching for shelter: umbrellas and coats no match for the element, whilst mini floods formed in the road.

He then closed his eyes and let the anger that he had been suppressing flow out.

"Because I fucking hate Harry Styles," He snapped. He felt his knuckle involuntarily clench and his jaw hardened. Ella smirked at the reaction and narrowed her eyes... like a vulture.

"You mentioned that before," she chuckled, referring to their earlier conversation. Louis flushed and watched as her long, animal-like claws dug around in her briefcase before finding a pen and notebook. She leant forward on the table and tilted her head. "But why?"