My Saviour (Louis Tomlinson)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8 {Unedited, sorry}

**

Get a hold of yourself Casey, you can't like Louis Tomlinson, it's completely absurd. I think to myself.

Louis drove me back earlier today after I had admitted my feelings to myself; so here I am, lying in my bed, trying my best to stop liking him.

I am going nowhere.

Finally, as though my brain finally clicked, I call Joanne. "Hello?" I hear a deep voice. Sexy, British, but deep.

Hm..

Did I get the wrong number?

"Um, hi, I think I dialled the wrong number, I'm looking for Joanne?" I fumble.

I hear a chuckle on the other end. "Hey, Case, just a second."

"Casey!" Joanne screams excitedly.

"Ok..what is happening?" I ask skeptically, with a hint of humour and amusement in my voice.

"Nothing," she drawls.

"Right," I say disbelievingly.

"Anyway, what's up?"

"Way to change the topic. Anyway, how long are you going to be wherever you are? Wait, where are you?"

She laughs nervously. "Harry's hotel room?"

"Harry's hotel room?" I copy.

"Maybe?"

"Interesting," I say deviously. "Well, anyway, when will you be back?" I take a sip of water.

"I was thinking of staying overnight - " That's when I spat my water all over the floor and bed, and made a complete, utter mess of my room.

"Casey?" Joanne asks worriedly. I'm too busy coughing as the water went down the wrong pipe. I can't breathe and I'm gasping for air.

I'm going to die!

No you're not, the rational part of my mind says.

"I'm okay," I say while taking a breath in, but, in all honesty, I do not sound okay, I sound like a guy. Actually no, I sound like a dying boy/seal hybrid.

I clear my throat before repeating myself, assuring both her and I that I actually am okay.

I hear Harry say something in the background and then Joanne says, "Hey, listen, I'm not staying over, should I come there?"

"Yes, please."

She mumbles an okay, bye before cutting the call.

If I know anything about Joanne and my friendship, I am one hundred per cent sure, that this night is going to have a hell of a lot of interrogation.

Sigh.

**

About two and a half hours later, Joanne finally saunters in without a care in the world, probably thinking that all she is going to do in console me.

Well, she couldn't be more wrong.

She makes her way to my bedroom, which looks rather neat compared to how it usually looks.

She looks at me questioningly. I tell her that after my little incident, I had to clean up the floor and change the bed covers, so then I decided that I might as well clean up the whole room.

"So, what happened?" She asks.

"I have a...problem," I sigh.

"What kind of problem?" She pushes.