She's Not Afraid - A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction

Chapter Twelve

I dropped the dirty plates in the soap water and gently started rubbing off the breakfast’s leftovers with a kitchen swamp.

“Thinking about that you made the meal, it was actually a fair attempt of cooking,” I chuckled at Louis. His eyes widened until they were on the size of basketballs. “I know!” he exclaimed. “I should be on Masterchef.”

“Right, that’s where I’ll set the line. You’ll burn the kitchen down and end up killing people with a kitchen knife whilst trying to cut out onions.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Only if they provoke me.”

I smiled and lightly shook my head. Gosh, he was hopeless. “People can provoke you easily Lou, and we both know that.”

“Yes. Like you just did.” I stared uncomprehendingly at him. What was he talking about now? I hadn’t—

That’s when he broke off my thinking by locking his arms around me and started to tickle me. I broke out laughing so loudly I might have broken his hearing ability. I damned him. He knew how ticklish I was and witch places to touch if he wanted to make me laugh my lungs out. “Stop it!” I screamed in between the laughs. “Stop!” He just kept on going with the tickling on my ribs and stomach. “What? Sorry, I can’t hear you!” he grinned. “What did she say again?” I fought to get out of his grasp, but his athletic arms were holding me too close and too strong fastened.

“Stop it, Lou!” I tried to say without laughing my head off and attempting to pull an earnest face. “I will not leave this house before we have finished the dishes!” My argue seemed to soften him a little bit up: In my favor he stopped tickling me, but he didn’t quite let me go. His arms were locked around my waist, holding me close to his muscular body and even closer to his handsome face … and his crazily kissable lips.

“You are going to stay here forever, then!” Louis’ voice made me snap back to reality and out of my own little world. I looked up at him to see him cheekily wiggling his eyebrows at me. “I can promise you we are going to have loads of fun.”

I playfully slapped his arm. “Ew, you’re such a pervert.”

“You know you like it,” he insisted.

“I hate it.”

“Take that back.”

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

It didn’t look like him, but he seemed to give up on the silly discussion. He used to be so determined to win a fight, even if it was just a small and careless one, but today he was apparently feeling like doing the otherwise. “Well then, I’m just going to do the dishes,” he said without even pouting.

This didn’t look like Louis at all. Had an alien taken over his body throughout the night?

He placidly pushed me a few centimeters to the side, and took a glass down on the soap water to start cleansing it. Only he didn’t clean it; he threw the water in the glass right at me in stead.

“Are you going to take it back?”

I hated it when he was this cocky.

It was payback-time.

I quickly grabbed another glass and filled it with water, before throwing it right at him. It splashed on his chest and drenched his T-shirt to the bone. Maybe that would teach him a lesson: Never mess with Jessica Clarke when she is marginally annoyed.

I could see his face slowly heating up when he looked down at his soaked shirt. “Whoopsie,” I teased him with a pensive smile playing on my lips. He cupped his hands and filled them with the soap water. Just before he threw it at me, he grinned at me and said, “Oh, babe, you do not know what you have just gotten yourself into.” And that was the clue: We started throwing the dishing water at each other, which if you actually think about it, is kind of gross.