Leaving Dreamland [Book One]

2~ Facing the Mob... Again

"Are you okay?" he repeated, and he seemed to be oblivious to the fact that I was still in shock that I was face to face with Louis Tomlinson, my favorite member of my all time favorite band. Well, maybe he couldn't have known the second part, but I couldn't believe that he couldn't see that it's very shocking when a member of a huge boy band pulls you down behind a sunglasses display and causes you to hit your head on it. When I didn't reply, he said, "Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to get you hurt. I just... I just wasn't thinking, I guess, and now I--" and he trailed off, mumbling some other things that I couldn't quite catch.

I must have looked pretty idiotic with my mouth still hanging open in awe, so I finally found the ability to close it. I decided that it would probably be a good idea to try and answer him, as he still seemed concerned about me. When I tried to form a sentence, however, all that came out was, “I-I...Louis... fin...don't.... wor..."

It was at that moment that he finally realized that it wasn't my injury that was hindering my ability to speak, but he himself that was causing this dilemma. "Oh, right! You're probably really confused as to what I'm doing here on the ground behind a sunglasses display and why I grabbed you to come back here with me... So, uh, yeah, there are a LOT of fans over there crowding around, thinking I'm still on the plane and waiting for me to get off it, and if they see me, I will get mauled by them, because as you can see, I don't have security with me. See, the boys and I all got off the plane at the same time, but I snuck off in the other direction to go to the loo and I guess no one saw me, and when I came back, they were gone, security and all. So I've been taking cover behind this display while I tried to come up with a plan to get myself outta here intact, and then when I saw you come out of the mob of people, I got a great idea, and I need your help. Well, if you would like to help me, anyways. If not, I'll let you go away, but all I ask is that you don't tell ANYONE that I'm here, because otherwise, I'm toast. And again, I'm so sorry about your head. Does it still hurt?"

It took me a second to really register what he had just told me. I was overwhelmed by all of this, and the fact that I had just hit my head probably didn't help either. I had to be dreaming. There was no way that this was real. But either way, I might as well go along with the dream and enjoy it, as it didn't seem like I was going to wake up anytime soon, or, at least, I hoped not. "It's n-not that bad. I-I mean, it'll b-be fine," I stammered, and he chuckled to himself at how nervous I was to be talking to him.

"Well, I'm glad," he smirked. "I take it you're a fan?"

"Well, um, yeah, kinda..." I said, blushing. That was a HUGE understatement.

He laughed again and said, "Nothing to be ashamed of! So, would you like to help me or not?"

"What do you think?" I giggled.

"Okay! Now, here's the plan..."

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Ten minutes and two pairs of new sunglasses later, Louis and I were ready for action. He pulled the hood of my gray jacket over his head and put his new stylish sunglasses on while I zipped his fuzzy sweatshirt over top of my blue t-shirt. While he was surveying the crowd of fans that we would have to go through, I inhaled the luscious scent of his sweatshirt and sighed; it was pure Louis, a combination of sunshine and spring rain and ocean breeze. Oh, and a hint of carrots, but I already expected that much. At the sound of my sigh, Louis looked back at me, and my face burned red. I couldn't tell if he figured out what I had just done or not, but either way, he probably thought that I was mentally insane. Well, maybe I was. Who knows?

Louis was about to say something when all of the sudden his brow furrowed and he seemed to ponder something for a second. "You know, I never did get your name,” he said.