Polite//l.s

Twenty Nine

Things that are upsetting: when an author has multiple books out that have really good plots, but never update any of them.

Ps. This part is smutty and stuff so yeah. It's weird I guess.

January fifteenth. It's been days since I've seen Louis and I miss him. I just want to kiss him, want to feel his lips on me. I don't care where, I just want it.

I feel like an idiot. Louis had told me he loves me, to which I very cleverly responded 'what does love mean?'

I hadn't understood what the word had meant outside of a family unit, the definition had provided the example 'A mother loves her son' which in my case, a.) was not accurate to begin with, and b.) Louis was not my mother.

He explained it to me, his words going far deeper than I had expected

Love is how you make me feel Harry. Fuck, you make me so floaty and...

Love, love, it's stepping out on a rainy day and seeing the one thing that could possibly be the absolute best thing in the entire world. It's a horrible feeling that yanks at your chest until you can't breathe, drags you to the ground until you know you'd do anything just to look at the person again.

He punctuated the soliloquy with a breathy laugh, and 'oh god, that was horrible,"

He had asked me if I loved him, reassuring me that it was fine if I didn't.

But, did I?

I hadn't ever described an emotion before, I've never put a label on how I feel for Louis.

The way he described it, and after I asked Gemma, I think I do. I think I love Louis Tomlinson.

Gemma had suggested I look up 'in love' instead of 'love' and yeah, I think I'm in love with him.

I didn't know there were two different loves until recently.

H: Can we meet at the mall in twenty minutes?

I texted him, I should probably tell him. Sister says he's probably been freaking out ever since the Christmas party.

L: I'm working, how about in an hour?

I nodded my head, thinking of what to do for an hour.

I texted him the details of where I wanted to meet first, enjoying the convenience of being able to talk to Louis whenever I wanted. We've basically been texting all day every day since I got my phone, unless we were busy.

I just flopped onto my bed, feeling the gel material beneath the pillow top give way. I knew it was bad for the motor underneath that kept the bed warm, but I couldn't help it. I felt happy. Really happy.

I couldn't wait to see Louis and his face and his hands and his mouth and his tongue and his tongue-

His tongue. I groaned, remembering how great that is. Probably my second favorite body part of his (my favorite is his eyes).

That night, when he touched me, I didn't even know if I would like it. I just knew I wanted it, and I wanted it bad. Turns out, his mouth is a literal blessing sent from the gods.

A warm feeling built up in my stomach as I thought about it. I wanted him to do it again, wanted more actually.

I let out an uncontrollable whimper as I thought about it, embarrassed. I was alone, but I covered my mouth anyways. I hated those sounds they just sounded weak, but I couldn't help them. Louis is just so- ugh.