hotfoot - tomlinson

chapter three

chapter three

louis

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I adored everything about her. The way she spoke. Her accent was fresh; antique but new and releasing, like a plume of cold smoke that tickled up your nose. The was she looked at me. Sometimes I could see something hidden in them, like longing. I didnt understand what she was looking for, not until today. Today I learned how quickly I could lose her, and how much it could hurt.

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"LOUIS EFFING Tomlinson, will you get your head out of the gutter? We have to go." I hid my smile from her eyes as I shuffled out into the hot air, a glare seeping into my vision, making me squint. She was tired, I could tell, and it merely my fault. After I woke her up, I practically forced her to keep talking to me. To be honest, I didn't want to be alone last night. For the past year I had never spent one night alone, always accompanied by my loves gentle grip. My love. She had been my love, after all.

Beatrice Everdale, probably one of the prettiest girls I've ever met. She had a fit body, rich auburn locks  that couldn't compare to anyone else's. She had a lovely laugh, and a bright, beautiful smile that made me quiver when I thought about her in my dreams. She had full lips and tiny toes, wiggling under the bed-sheets, tickling me with their cold touch. I would always be in love with the way she looked, but every time I thought of Beatrice, her everlasting storm of curses and jabs at me would always make that adoration fade away.

Now, Ethel Deerling, probably one of the most peculiar birds in the world. She was a little tiny and a little skinny, but her arms and her legs and the warm touches of her fingertips on my skin, they were miraculous. She had tiny little hips that shuddered in a delicate way when she walked, but I couldn't keep my mind off the idea of my hands hugging her love-handles, caressing her.

She had an odd array of colors in her hair, a splendor of dark chestnut and caramel. A warm shade topped the crown of her head, but a lighter, fonder shade of sandy waves melted downwards on her locks. Her face was like an almond that had been peeled of it's skin, a pale, nearly reflective looking surface staring back at you with these, deep, deep mahogany wood eyes. She had this cute little button nose, and she had these tiny little lips. Now, she didn't have the biggest breasts of them all or the fittest behind, but I loved her ever so dearly; I thought she could be mine when I knew how little I knew about her.

"My middle name is not effing, it's William." I laughed, tossing a grin over my shoulder to Ethel.

I slumped down in the back of the van, my hands falling into my lap as I played around with my thumbs. Soon I began rubbing the cloth of my shirt between my fingers, the black fabric heating up my fingers. The vehicle was cramped with Liam, Harry, Niall, Rosa, Ethel, Zayn, and I, the driver one of the managers of the charity we sponsored in our little race.

"Fine then, Louis William Tomlinson, you're as slow as hell." She teased, rolling her eyes.

Everyone twiddled around on their phones, so I decided to give a go at my cell. It had been vibrating none stop in my pocket, and I was thankful no one had questioned it. The screen was lit up, the small white text printed multiple times vertically down the notifications.

'Missed Call from Beatrice'

'Louis, you're breaking me.'

'Louis, I need you here with me'