The Blindfold » l.t au

twenty six

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Charlotte takes about half an hour before she stops crying, and I don't know if I should feel sorry for her or not. She hasn't changed her clothes, and as she stood up to get tissues, I could swear her entire ass was showing. I let her rant the whole time, because I still understand what it's like to be admonished so embarrassingly by your brother. Your big, over-protective, kinky brother.

"Charlotte," I hold her hand, squeezing lightly. "I know his way of...pointing it out wasn't exactly delicate but you can't deny that those shorts are incredibly baring. I can't begin to imagine what a fun it was for boys to see this."

"He could've been a little nice about it," she murmured sadly, sniffling. "I know he was only trying to protect me and I get it—I'm not wearing those ever again—but he was so...harsh. He didn't even say something, just wished me a goodnight and I haven't seen him since then."

"Well maybe he was being silent because he didn't want to say something hurtful. Didn't you think of it that way?" She looks at me, eyes widening a little before she sighs, muttering an agreement.

"You can fix this in the morning." I smiled kindly, suppressing a yawn.

"Thank you," she smiles apologetically. "I know you have work tomorrow. I feel like an arse for keeping you up."

I hug her. "It's what friends are here for, right? It's not a problem."

"Goodnight." She says when we're at the door and I say it back, going back to my apartment.

When I head to my bedroom, I check my phone, frowning when I find a text.

Is she alright now?

Louis.

Shaking my head in slight exasperation, I text back. She's quite humiliated, but she swore to never wear it again. Also, she's a little hurt that you haven't spoken to her. You're kind of an ass, by the way.

I can perfectly imagine his scowl as he texted what was I supposed to do when my sister's ass was out for show?

You could have been a little subtle and a whole lot gentle. Can I go to sleep now? I have to get up early.

You always sleep late and get up early, Lola. Smart ass.

But tomorrow I have a meeting with Ryan and the news team.

Fine. You owe me a blow job.

My blood heats immediately. Fuck, even when I'm barely keeping my eyes open, it's easy for him to set me on fire with simple words.

Why is that? I type with a smile. I think you owe me a head.

Fine, let's try 69 next time. It's my favorite number ;)

Pervert. I roll my eyes, typing a goodnight and then placing my phone on the bedside table, before closing my eyes. There's a slight buzz, indicating an incoming text, but I don't bother to reply.

***

I feel a little silly as I knock on his door at seven in the morning, but Charlotte opens the door, a smile stretching across her face.

"Thank god," she shrieks, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Lola, get him out of his robot mood. It's killing me."

I follow behind her to the kitchen, where Louis is standing in front of the coffee machine, his silence overwhelming. Frankly, I realize this is the first time I actually note how unquiet he is all the time. Usually, when he's making coffee like this, he hums, sings, he even moves around the kitchen mindlessly. But she's right, he's never so...robotic like this.