Score •• louis a.u.

chapter 4

So I will be updating every Monday. :)

My eyes shoot open and I spring up in bed. My face and neck are drenched in sweat, my breathing shallow and raspy, and my heart is beating at an irregular pace. I grip the sheets tightly in my sweaty fists and try to control my breathing.

It is the same series of dreams as yesterday's. And the day before. They are all the same. The same boy, the same place, the same...outcome. I have never met 'Louis' before; I have never seen him to be able to construct his facial features so perfectly. In a way he is intimidating.

I look around my room with wide eyes, taking in every detail: the sun trying to force its way in through the curtains, my blankets on the floor, and my pillow next to my feet. I reach up and swipe the matted, sweaty hair off my forehead in disgust and glance at my bedside clock.

"9:30!"

I quickly rip off my remaining sheets and sprint to my bathroom. Not bothering to attend to my face, I brush my teeth at the speed of light and fly around my room gathering the nicest pair of jeans and the cleanest t-shirt I can find. Please don't get fired on your first day. The time is branded into my brain, making me move faster.

I rinse out my mouth whilst shoving on my pants and pulling my hair back into a ponytail whilst stuffing my arms into my shirt. I am going to kill myself; I can't believe I slept in.

I race out of the room and grab a water bottle from the fridge, taking a quick swig. Muttering curses, I run back to my room and search for my sneakers.

"C'mon c'mon! Where are you?" I mutter under my breath.

After wasting a good two minutes of precious time, I finally grab some socks from my drawer and slip into my sneakers I find under my bed.

Taking another quick glance at the clock and reaching for my keys, I run out of the room and out of my flat. I jab the 'down' lift button with my pointer finger as I check my pants pockets for my phone.

"Son of a bitch!" I growl, turning around and running back to my flat. This cannot be happening now. I fumble to put my key in the lock and spot my phone lying on the coffee table.

"I am so going to get fired," I say to myself, slamming the door closed and locking it. I look between the lift and the stairs and, moaning, take the stairs two at a time.

After almost tripping and falling three times, I decide to ride the railing. Literally. I hop up on the railing and slide on my butt down two flights of stairs.

Dashing out the front door of my building, I speed-walk to the garage and check my phone for the time. 9:50. Shit. I am sprinting now as I try to reach my parked car in the garage, dodging pulling out cars and frustrated people.

Pressing the unlock button on my remote, I spot the blinking taillights of my own car. I am so dead. Opening it, I fling myself into the driver's seat and start it up. As soon as I see the coast is clear, I zoom out of the parking garage, narrowly missing an elderly man holding a giant bag of groceries.

"I am going to hell."

Quickly putting the car in park, I jump out and start picking up the scattered food items on the floor.

"I am so sorry sir! I didn't see you there and I am running a little late!" I ramble, quickly forcing the groceries into the sack. He just looks at me with a disapproving stare.

"You should have been paying attention!" He says, pointing a crooked and wrinkly finger at me. I nod sheepishly and hand him the bag full of food.

"Sorry again but I really have to run!" I shout over my shoulder as I get back in my car. The tension in my shoulders eases a bit as soon as I'm on the road speeding toward my destination. I am so going to get fired; I am so going to get fired.