II

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When I got home I immediately went to my room, threw my back on the ground, and fell onto my bed facing the ceiling.

I layed there for a while before I decided that I should probably text Louis.

                                 

Mazy

Hey, is this Louis?

Louis

Why do you sound so formal?

Mazy

I take it it's Louis...

Louis

The one and only ;)

Mazy

So when do you want to             

meet up and where?

Louis

I'm free whenever.

We could hang out at my place but we'd have

To stay in my room because my sisters are home.

Mazy

Alright, I'll head over to your

House in a minute.

Louis

Can't wait ;)

You're probably wondering why I didn't ask for his address. It's simply because I already knew where he lived. And before you call me a stalker, I forgot to mention previously that me and Louis rode the same bus.

I grabbed my computer, put it in my bag, and walked out the door. My parents aren't usually home and my brothers don't really care where I go. I'm 16 but I still don't have my license. It didn't really matter because I liked riding my bike and walking. It made me feel nice knowing that I was being active.

I got on my bike a petled to Louis's house.

Once I arrived, I debated on actually going up to the house for at least five minutes. Their house was fairly large compared to mine. And I lived in a decent sized house.

Eventually, I gathered enough courage to go up to the door. I knocked loudly twice and waited patiently. After a few seconds, I heard a female voice yell,

"Louis get the door!"

"Okay I'm coming, hold on!"

I heard rushing and shuffling then the door opened.

"Hey" Louis greeted me. He must have been running to the door with his flushed cheeks and messy hair

"Hi"

"Do you wanna come in"

"Well I didn't come here to stand outside, did I?" I joked

I smirked and stepped aside so I could come in. I took long looks around, observing his house.

"You have a beautiful home,"

"Thanks" He smiled leading me upstairs

He stopped at a white door down the hall and to the left.

A P O C A P U S S Y L I P S//Louis Partridge Where stories live. Discover now