Insatiably You | l.s.

Chapter 4

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Soon enough, there will come a time where seconds turn into minutes, minutes into days, and days soon will turn into a week and more. That's how long it has been since my encounter with Louis at the bar. 

It has been over a week since I've seen his face. A week since I've smelt his intoxicating scent. A week since I've seen his blue eyes and smile. A week since I've felt his touch. And most importantly, a week since I've felt his lips on mine.

I know nothing about him. Nothing about his likes and dislikes. None of his quirks or peculiar habits. Nothing about his story. Nothing about the reason behind his walls. Nothing except the fact, that he has me truly captivated and there is nothing I can do about that. 

There is nothing I know about him, except the fact, that he works at Pandora and has never left my mind since I met him. 

I know. I know. I know. God, I know I should forget him. Any rational thinking human would know this. Anyone would, yet I can't seem to act like one when anything concerns him.

While I know these things, I also know that he doesn't deserve a pathetic fool like me, he deserves anyone but me. He deserves someone who's not a complete mess. And he deserves someone who isn't covered in bruises and scars. 

Definitely not someone who's broken on both the inside and out. 

However, for the life of me, I can't seem to care. Can't seem to think rationally when it comes to Louis. Can't seem to use my head instead of my heart.

Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just do something which doesn't involve my own selfish pleasure? Why can't I just forget him as any rational thinking person would? 

He could have been a rapist, a murderer, a pervert, a criminal or worst of all for me, a player and heartbreaker. 

I knew absolutely nothing about him. I knew not his surname, nor his family. Not his home, nor his sources of comfort. Yet, I couldn't help but want to know the answers to all of these things.

Granted, I knew he couldn't be any of the atrocities aforementioned as he saved me that night many days ago, but that never prevented him from being a player nor a heartbreaker. 

He owed nothing to me and I  him. He wasn't committed to me in any way and likewise. But it never stopped the fact that he was constantly on my mind. Never prevented my longing to see him once again. To see his blue eyes just once more. To feel his touch. To see his smile. 

By now it wasn't even purely attraction I felt towards him, sure that was the main driver, but I was starting to become entirely captivated by his presence and desperately wanted to know his story. 

He was unlike anyone I had ever met and there is nothing I want more than to see him again. To hear his banter and thick Yorkshire accent. There is nothing I want more than that.

This is the only reason why I am now sitting on my single bed letting Niall and Liam try to coax me into going clubbing with them again. 

I wouldn't even be thinking about saying yes to them if it wasn't for Louis. 

I hated the loud music, and the drunk people stumbling and throwing up all over the place. I hated the shameless strippers trying to give you a lap dance even when you declined their offers. I hated the smell of weed and cigars. And most of all, I now hated conversing with drunk older men. 

Based on my experience that would only lead to one of two ways. They would either end up throwing up all over the most expensive shirt that you worked weeks for—leaving you reeking of puke and alcohol. Or it would turn out like that night.