Addicted To You .L.S.

Eight.

Now (June)

"Seriously, Louis?" Kylie folds her arms across her massive chest, looking from the bear spray to the door and back. "You've lost it. Put that down; you're just going to hurt yourself. The ventilation in here sucks."
  She was probably right. But, I keep the can aimed right at her.

"You lied to the cops about why Harry and I were at the Point. Innocent people who want their boyfriends killer caught don't do that."
She gapes at me. "You think I had something to do with it? Are you kidding me? I loved him." Her voice quivers. "Harry's gone and it's all your fault. If you weren't such a junkie, he'd still be alive."
   My fingers tighten around the can. "If you cared about him so much, tell me why you lied."

Someone bangs on the bathroom door. I flinch, dropping the can. It rolls across the floor and Kylie takes advantage of the distraction, jumping for the exit.
"I won't stop," I warn her as she fumbles with the lock.
"Screw you. I've got nothing to hide."
She slams the door shut behind her. I can hear muffled voices on the outside, snatches of a conversation that starts with "Don't go in there, dude" before Kylie's voice fades away.

I press my hand near my heart, like that'll help calm it down. I can feel the ridges of the scar there, where the surgeon cracked my chest after the crash.

I grab the bear spray from the floor, put in into my bag, and head towards the door. By now, Kylie will be long gone. Probably to spread the news that Louis Tomlinson is back home and crazier than ever.

Someone's standing at the door when I open it. I almost smack into her chest, my bad leg twist as I step back and I falter. When a hand reaches out to steady me, I know without looking up who it is.

Dread coves me like a body, hot and heavy and fitting in all the wrong places. I'm not prepared for this. I've avoided thinking about this moment for months.
I can't face her.
But I can't walk away.
Not again.
"Gem," I say instead.
Harry's sister stares back at me, tall and broad and so familiar. I force myself to look into her eyes.
It's almost like looking into his.