Make Me Beg [l.s - edited version]

fifteen

Louis' POV:

Juan Luis had slept peacefully through the night, meaning that I didn't need to deal with him getting sick or throwing up, which was a relief. He's thrown up in the past after we go out, and it's never a nice wake-up call at 1:30 am when I'm sleeping over and he does so.

Speaking from personal experience, trying to get a rather large hungover and half-asleep man to wash the vomit off of himself in a shower takes quite the effort.

By the time morning comes, Juan Luis is in better spirits than I would have expected based on the number of drinks he had. But, as expected, he remembers next to nothing about the previous night. He tells me he recalls "a really cute blonde named Niall" and asks me all about him, to which I recap everything he told me in the car.

It doesn't take long before he's filling in the gaps of my story, smiling and blushing as he begins to remember. As I make him french toast for breakfast, he makes me promise to get Niall's phone number from Harry the next time I see him. So when I inform him that I have plans with Harry, he practically jumps up and down. That doesn't last long though, because it's still a hangover and that jumping surely didn't help to alleviate the headache.

✰ ✰ ✰

After leaving his house, I stop by my flat to get changed and ready for Harry's house. Naturally, in typical Juan Luis fashion, he suggested I sweat pants that make my ass look big. It doesn't go unconsidered, but eventually, I opt for a comfortable pair of black joggers instead, with a heather gray sweater with a red heart on top to match.

I notice that Zayn and Liam left the place someone trashed, but they normally clean up after themselves so I don't stress over it. I can hear both of them snoring soundly from their bedroom since they both don't have work today, so I make an effort to keep quiet while I get changed and ready as to not wake them up.

Harry texted me his address last night, and before I know it I'm on my way to his house. Something about getting in the car and actually making my way to his place has increased my nerves considerably. I do my best to ignore the tremors in my hands and hope they'll stop shaking once I actually see him.

The GPS tells me to turn right and claims my destination will be on my left. I turn and find myself surrounded by obnoxiously large houses - mansions, more like. All of them have long driveways and are sat on large plots of land and I can't imagine anyone being able to afford this.

A black mailbox with little white numbers that read 2194 marks Harry's house and I turn into his driveway. The familiar black SUV is here, and I pull up next to it and park my car. Looking at the time on my phone, I've made it on time, which is rare for me.

I get out of my car and walk down a nicely paved path to his doorstep, self-conscious about my somewhat-muddy shoes on the perfectly clean slabs of stone. When I reach his front door, I ring the doorbell once and can hear the sound of the bell chimes coming from inside his house.

I find myself rocking back and forth on my heels at his doorstep, somewhat intimidated by the grandness and size of his lavish home. His house from the outside is wonderfully maintained. It has a perfectly cut yard of lush green grass, a cool stone wall with a little fountain coming out of it, and even those cute flowerbeds in some of the downstairs windows. He's so humble and I had no idea he had this type of money. It's hard to imagine anyone having this kind of money actually, besides super wealthy and famous people.

Who knows, maybe with Harry doing gigs like he does at the cafe, he'll become some world-famous musician in a few years. He's surely got the talent for it if my whipped heart and I have something to say about it.