Pumpkin (Louis Tomlinson A/U)

Chapter 2.

"I'll have the diagram for tomorrow." I reassure Louis as I see him to the door. It was quarter to 8 when decided I had had enough with chemistry. "You can swing by around the same time if you want." He nods curtly, and steps put into the chilly fall air.

"Today was kinda fun huh?"

I poke a finger to my cheek teasingly. "Well besides hitting my head on wooden furniture several times, I guess so." He laughs at this, making me smile a little, but I quickly bite my lip to cover it up. "Later Tommo." I solemnly salute, slowly closing the door.

Just as I am about to retreat up the stairs my mother hisses at me. "Vera!"

I groan, rolling my eyes at her. "Mom, what do you want?" She points violently at Louis who is already biking halfway down the street.

"You can't just let him bike home alone at a time like this!"

"Mom it's barely past 8, his house is only a mile away, he'll make it. Besides what am I gonna do, bike after him?" She unhooks the keys from the wall, throws them to me.

"Seriously?" She replies with a usual "do it or else" look. I curse her under my breathe, and grab my grey sweatshirt on my way out.

After 5 minutes of searching through the neighborhood, I find him smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk, making me scowl in disgust. I roll the window down as I pull up beside him, mentally groaning in the process.

"Just couldn't get enough of me could you?" The blue eyed boy smirks. I roll my eyes; there's the asshole I know and hate.

"Get in, mom insists that I give you a ride." He chuckles, and I pop the truck for him to throw his bike in. His hand is inches away from the handle of the SUV when I quickly hit the lock button, giving him a grim look. "Lose the cigarette."

"Tough girl like you can't hand a little smoke?" He teases.

"This isn't my car idiot." He takes another puff mockingly with shit eating grin on his face. "Do you want a ride or not?" I tap on the wheel impatiently. He shakes his head, before tossing it to the pavement, and unlocking the door through the window. The second his butt lands on the seat, I speed away from the curb, making him suddenly grip the door.

"What's your fuckin' problem? The speed limit is 35!" He protests.

"I don't want to be in a closed space with you longer than I have to be." He smirks devilishly, and suddenly I want to drive off a cliff. A long period of awkward silence passes before he finally speaks.

"So you have smoked before right?" I eye him cautiously, deciding whether or not I should answer.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

"And you do it regularly right?"

"No." I simply state. His jaw drops open.

"Seriously?!"

"Yes."

"What about that one time, I saw you in front of the school?" I shift in annoyance.

"It was a dare, and I hated it." I admit.

"I heard you're a chain smoker." The sentence comes out as a more of a question than a statement.

"You've probably heard lots of stuff about me." I mutter sarcastically under my breath.

"Do your friends smoke?"

"Yes." He continues to gape, astonished. My patience is wearing thin with every word that comes out of his mouth. If he asks one more question, I swe-