No Control | The Night Before

7~ Olivia

Pictures surfaced in the media the following day of Louis leaving Cirque Le Soir with 'a mystery blonde', but I was relieved to discover that my attempts to keep my face hidden from the cameras had worked, and I was completely unrecognisable. There were a couple of stories in the tabloids speculating about mine and Louis' 'hook-up', 'one night stand' and 'possible fledgling relationship' but as there were no clear photographs of my face, and therefore nothing to go on, the stories focussed more on Louis' apparent drunkenness, his new-found freedom and the two month break in the On The Road Again tour. One amateur gossip publication tried to claim they had inside information that I was a stripper called Olivia, whom Louis had hired for the evening, but this wasn't entertained even for a second by the One Direction fandom and was belittled and ridiculed on Twitter until the story was eventually removed. Only Sarah and Callie knew that I was the girl in question, and once the initial shock of seeing myself in a national newspaper had worn off, we cackled gleefully at my accomplishment of being photographed with Louis fucking Tomlinson without anyone else realising who I was.

Louis texted me every day that week, and found the whole 'Olivia' claim hilarious (once he had made sure I wasn't upset by any of it). By Friday I was a nervous wreck again in anticipation of the house party at his place. I wasn't sure how many people would be going or what the dress code would be, but he had already dropped into conversation the invitation of staying over, and told me to bring a bag with me if I wanted to - with the stipulation of 'no pressure.' I knew where things were likely to lead, and I was fine with this. It felt less like a one night stand now I had spent a couple of evenings with him, and had been texting him in between. And to be perfectly honest, I'd had enough of upholding my morals and was in the mood to let my hair down for once and do something a little out of character. The fact that Louis could have any girl he wanted, yet had maintained an interest in me despite me turning him down twice, gave me the self-justification I needed.

He hadn't mentioned Sarah at any point when we had been discussing the party over text, and I didn't want to ask if I could bring a friend along. I spent the night before flipping through my wardrobe with both Sarah and Callie at my side, trying on outfits that would hopefully knock him dead but also look casual and effortless. We settled on a pair of black skinny jeans, black ankle boots and a soft, loose, fine-knit jumper that skimmed my waist, with a pair of discreet silver hoop earrings and a couple of chunky rings on my fingers. When Friday night finally arrived I spent an hour getting myself ready, curling my hair into chunky waves and applying some neutral make up to look natural yet polished. I drank a small glass of wine while I waited for my nails to dry, and then called a cab to Louis' house in Barnet (he had texted me his address). I took a small bag with me containing a few toiletries and a change of clothes for the next day, and threw couple of condoms in there too, just to be on the safe side. 

By the time the cab pulled up outside a large detached house with wrought iron railings and a set of wooden double gates, my heart was thumping in my chest again and my hands were clammy. I wiped my palms nervously on my jeans before paying the driver, and then climbed out of the car clutching my bag and walked up to the gates. I pressed the security buzzer, and after a couple of seconds a familiar voice greeted me.

"Olivia! Come on in."

Before I could answer with a sassy retort the gates began to open slowly, and I quickly adjusted my top and walked forward with trembling legs onto the driveway, catching sight of the security camera positioned just above me that must have been linked to a video monitor inside the house. Of course, I reasoned. Louis was a multi-million pound star. His security would obviously be top-notch. As I approached the large, grey front door, set back between two beige pillars, it swung open and Louis beamed out at me, leaning casually against the frame with a bottle of beer in his hand.