the traveller // louis tomlinson

chapter twelve // houston, we have a problem.

Louis' POV

"You'll thank me later," Harry grabs me and plants a kiss on my cheek before running ahead into the trashy, redneck bar. He's already had a few drinks in him before we left the venue.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I walk beside Zayn, Liam and Niall into the rowdy bar. They don't say a word to me, it's really no use trying. I've been in this grumpy mood all afternoon. They're being smart and giving me my space, unlike Harry who's being a total idiot.

There aren't any bouncers in the doors of the club, so our body guards split up, some taking watch outside and others following us inside. The trashy country music blares so loudly I can't even hear myself thinking. But I don't need to hear my thoughts to know exactly who's infecting every single one of them.

Mia.

I've never been so frustrated with a person so badly in my life before. She still hasn't said a single word to me this entire day. I shouldn't have thought she'd forgive me easily. Sure, I was a bit of a jerk to her last night, but I couldn't help myself.

The thought of her being here at a place like this was enough to make me sick. I get that same gut feeling I had when I first met her; the strange need to protect her. My eyes scan the room, not being able to keep track of all the drunk old guys here. The old bastards would have a field day with Mia. Thank god she won't be joining us tonight.

I haven't told Harry about our little argument, even when he asked me what was wrong with Mia today. Liam, much to my relief, has kept his mouth shut about what he heard last night. If Harry knew what I had said, or what I was feeling, he'd keep pushing the idea of me fancying her.

I sure as hell don't fancy her. The frustration and irritation deep in the pit of my chest is proof enough. Yet whenever I would catch a glimpse of her backstage at tonight's show, I was stuck between the urge to wring her neck and wrap her in a giant hug.

Her damn flaws almost make her even more likable; how is that even possible?

"Good god mate, you look like you're plotting a murder over here," Harry plops down on the stool opposite me at the tall table I've chosen. He looks absolutely ridiculous in his god damned cowboy hat and unbuttoned flannel.

He had tried getting me to dress theme with him, but I'm glad I stuck to my sleeveless band shirt and a pair of black jeans. He looks a big enough idiot for the both of us.

"Just getting into the ol' dirty western vibe," I smirk, taking the beer bottle he set in front of me greedily.

Harry laughs loudly as my eyes focus on the rest of our group, sitting at the bar with our bodyguards close behind them. At least everybody else seems to be enjoying themselves. I certainly won't mind sitting here at this table, drinking away my frustrations the whole night through. It actually sounds quite pleasant at the time.

I'm sipping from my beer as Harry chats aimlessly about something when I spot her. In a matter of seconds, my beer goes spewing from my mouth as I erupt in a fit of coughs powerful enough to knock me out.

"Are you okay?" Harry inquires, but I completely ignore him, my eyes glued to the brunette across the bar.

She doesn't seem to notice me, but I surely notice her. It'd be hard not to as she wears the tiniest pair of jean shorts I've ever laid eyes on. Her flat, tanned stomach is exposed for all to see, as her small top barely contains anything. Her curves - and she certainly isn't lacking any of those - are out in the open for all to enjoy. The thing that covers the most are the pair of cowboy boots she wears on her feet.

It's as if some greater god finds my predicament beyond hilarious and is doing this just to be funny. Perhaps I wouldn't be so upset if every other guy in this dinky place wasn't eyeing her up like a piece of meat. Perhaps I wouldn't be so upset if I didn't know this was going to happen. Perhaps I wouldn't be so upset if I wasn't so ridiculously attracted to her at this very moment.