Park Benches (EDITING)

eleven

eleven

 

Charlotte’s POV

            Aunt Erin had taken me to the most tourist places you can imagine: Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, and we even had time for Madame Tusssauds. Everything was truly beautiful, and of course I took a picture with Louis’s wax sculpture to show him later. I was unbelievably lucky.

            I was getting ready, Aunt Erin offered to help, but I knew I could do this myself. It was already eight o’clock, about an hour left until he came to pick me up. I had been actually productive since I got home. I had taken a shower, curled my hair, and applied all of my makeup. All that was left was deciding on an outfit.

            My heart was torn between a skin tight shoulder-less blue dress with black sling back heels and a long-sleeved see-through maroon shirt with a strapless black bra beneath and a high-rise black skirt with black wedge sandals. They both looked so exquisite on me, but I knew I could only choose one.

            After countless minutes of glaring at the two choices on my bed I eventually gave into the sheer maroon shirt with the high-rise black skirt. The outfit wasn’t too dressy, but wasn’t too casual. I rather adored it too much!

            With my black clutch tight in my hand I strutted down to the lift, Louis should be here in a few minutes. With a push of the door a chilly gust of wind almost knocked me off my wedges and onto my bottom. With caution I proceeded to press the door open once more and successfully exit the complex. Patiently, I leaned against the wall by the doors to wait for Louis.

            The weather was absolutely freezing, but I knew I’d be inside, so it didn’t really matter much to me. Louis pulled up in a black Range Rover with a smile, motioning for me to hop in. My legs felt as if they were cemented to the floor; they wouldn’t move. With a good deal of tugging and pulling they finally gave in, parading over to the passenger door.

            “You look lovely,” he nodded, speeding down the streets. I took in his dark pants and regular tee, feeling a tad bit overdressed.

            “Really? It’s not too much?” My hands flattened down my skirt that was riding up, almost too much.

            “Yeah, you look perfect!” His voice was filled with thrill and I was glad I came.

            “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself and thanks for inviting me.” My words grew shy as the sentence ended.

            “Well thank you for coming,” his elbow nudged me in my shoulder, making me laugh.

            “Where are we going?” My eyes peered out the windows, not recognizing anything.

            “A club named Comet; Niall introduced it to me a while back after he crashed at my place.” The name rung in my head as I tried to make a connection. Niall: the Irish one.

            “That sounds…interesting,” all my parties back in high school rushed to mind, “I remember my drunken days.” A heavy breath released from my chest, almost as a chuckle as I reminisced my wild days.

            His mouth hung open, “You don’t seem much like a partier! I’m shocked!” One hand rose from the wheel to his mouth dramatically.

            “Don’t judge a book by a cover!” I winked at him.

            “Never,” his attitude was dead serious; he wasn’t even cracking a smile.