sugarbaby | l.s.

II.

[ hello i'm sorry for not writing in a couple months wattpad wouldn't open on my phone )

"What makes you think you're different from the other guys here? I bet more than half of them wanna take me home as well," I said, staring up at him, my arms crossed. It's not that he was super tall; I'm just a really short guy.

Harry — sorry, I mean "Mr. Styles" — smirked at me. "I can tell you that I'll treat you better than most of the guys here..." he looked me up and down. "What is your name?"

"Louis," I said, emphasizing the ee part of my name. "Louis Tomlinson. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other men to attend to." I turned on my heel and left him standing there, swaying my hips as I approached a group of men, batting my eyelashes and giggling whenever one of the businessmen made a corny, horrible joke.

Occasionally, I searched the room for Niall, but my eyes almost always met Mr. Styles' bright emerald eyes. And every time I did indeed catch his eye, I simply looked away, back to the group of men I was attending to.

The night was nearing to the end, and as men flooded out the doors, I felt a hand grip my wrist.

I looked back at my, expecting to see Mr. Styles; but it was only Niall.

I breathed in relief, turning toward Niall. "What's up?" I asked him, having previously assumed he had left with someone.

"Someone said they were looking for you. He was wearing a floral suit and had long, curly brown hair. Sound familiar?" the blonde told me, his eyes raising up in question.

"Yeah," I told him, rolling my eyes. "He's a prick."

"Yeah, well, he told me that if he couldn't find you again tonight, he'd contact Zayn," Niall warned, letting go of my wrist.

"Whatever. I'm not scared," I said, laughing a bit. "Alright. I'm exhausted. I'm gonna head home; I'll see you next week, yeah? You and I can go out for drinks or somethin'."

"Yeah, you know I love me a Guinness!" Niall exclaimed, smiling brightly and patting me on the back, walking out the doors.

I sighed and called an Uber, then followed in Niall's footsteps outside the doors. He was already gone.

By the time I got home that night and into bed, I'd already thought about Mr. Styles several times. I thought of his chocolate brown hair, the way his green eyes pierced my own—

I should've stopped thinking of him. But I couldn't.