you put the O in disOrder ➢ (l.s)

O.13

(LOUIS'S POV)

It's been a week and a half since me and Harry kissed.

It keeps replaying over and over in my mind, and I catch myself smiling in my English class.

"Why're you smiling?" Liam asks me, as he ties his shoelaces on his new Jordans.

Typical, really.

He has more shoes than my mom.

I shrug, "I don't know. Is smiling a crime? Are you the smile police?"

He rolls his eyes at my demeanor and turns to face me in his desk.

Class hasn't started yet and I can tell he's about to ask a question.

I hate his questions.

They're always so ditzy.

Remind me why I'm his friend again?

"So are you and that freak together or something?" He asks, tilting his head into the hallway, where Harry stands with his Chemistry teacher.

He's so cute, probably talking about how he can make up those last few tests he failed.

He really hates Chemistry.

And right now, I really fucking hate Liam.

I look at him and I can't believe how much of a douche bag he turned into.

Sure, before I met Harry, I thought he'd be a bit of a freak.

But boy, was I wrong.

So so wrong.

I don't have a right to be angry with Liam for his presumptions.

I know that.

But I do anyways.

"He's not a fucking freak," I say with a hard, cold, tone. "Why don't you go count the shoes in your closet, then tell me who the real freak is."

Liam is taken aback and scowls at me, his eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks red.

I can't tell if it's embarrassment or anger though. Both, is a safe bet.

"Don't have to be such a shit head about it. It was just a question," He replies and I tense up, turning back in my seat and deciding not to take it further.

That is until he speaks again.

"So, what? Did you guys fuck or something?" He asks, like it's totally fucking casual.

I give him a straight answer through gritted teeth. "No."

I copy notes from the board and grip my pencil tighter, and it's almost about to break from the anger that's welling up inside me.

Could this kid get any more... Oh I don't know, dim witted? Rude? Annoying?

He was better when he was 10, and when he didn't wear snap backs and gold chains.

Now he's just dull from all the pot he inhales.

"Good," He chuckles dryly and doodles on his paper. "Whatever he's got, I don't want you getting it."

I swear to god, I don't even have a thought process before I push my coffee off my desk with my elbow.

It spills and lands all over his brand new Jordans and I smile sarcastically, "Whoops." I say and he's absolutely devastated.

The whole class stares as he yells at me, "You did that on purpose you fucking dick!" He hops from his seat, shaking off the ugly sneakers from the brown liquid.