Numbers (Louis Tomlinson)

Chapter 4

I flip the page to my copy of Romeo and Juliet, the wind brushing it for me. I love going to the park, it's one of the few places I can just get away. I step between the wet grass, letting it itch my skin. Leaves are falling from the trees now, I can hardly believe it's turning autumn. A leaf falls into my hair, its stem scratching the side of my ear. I slowly pull it out, letting it tumble lifelessly to the ground. I continue walking, another leaf falling on my shoulder. I brush it off, it spins like a helicopter as it lands on the soil, floating on the grass. I smile to myself before continuing to walk, letting myself enjoy the patience of nature. Even another one falls on me, and I don't even mind.

But this leaf was different---well for one, it wasn't a leaf. It was actually a piece of fresh paper, scribbles and writings carved with led into it. The handwriting is loopy and messy, but fun at the same time. It seems to be written in a poetry form, words rhyming here and there. Suddenly a thud is pressured into the ground below me, the sound a delightful echo that seems hallow and oddly pleasant. But no, it wasn't pleasant.

"Can I have my paper?" That raspy high voice, its sound sending waves through my stomach rather than my ears. I roll my eyes, turning to face the recognized man. He yanks the paper away, not too quickly but abrupt enough to make it seem like he didn't want me to see the paper.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, putting my bookmark in my book. This was about to get interesting.

"Hanging out at the park, same as anybody else." Louis lifts my book out of my hand, "You reading this?"

"Yeah."

"Classic."

"I know, I've read it more than a few times. But again, what are you doing here? I thought they had a park over on your campus."

"They do, but this is my favorite one."

"How many parks does this town actually have that you can even have a favorite?"

"Enough."

I turn around.

"Well hang around a bit longer, won't you?" He calls after me.

"Of course not."

"Well why not?"

"I have no interest in talking to you." I shrug.

"Oh, yes I remember. You pulled off the whole, 'I don't want to see you again', thing. I'm still not getting that."

"What isn't there to get? I don't like you anymore and I rather not get involved with a senior college student who's basically a stranger."

"Well there's not really anything wrong with socializing with upperclassmen, is there?" I steps towards me in taunt.

"I don't trust you, especially you."

"Why's that?"

"I just feel like if I talked to you, so many memories would be rushed back out of your mouth leaving me humiliated."

"Humiliation is better than talking to someone older you've never even met before. I wouldn't trust you with anyone older ever."

"You barely know me, how could you even take a hint at how much I can handle myself around older kids."

"Because right now you're giving off the wave of rudeness. I just think you'd say something stupid and end up getting your skull crushed." He's provoking me in this awful manner, or as my mother would say, "a taste of your own medicine".

"There's a fault in your theory, nobody would even bother to talk to me in the first place."

"Well, I'm talking to you." It's almost like he's soliciting me for attention.

"My point exactly, you're a nobody."

"Very clever joke, there."

"I know, that's how I get morons to leave me alone."

"Again, very clever, and wow, hurtful." He tilts his head to the side as if I had made a few good points in our short conversation.

"If my jokes are so brilliantly hurtful then why aren't you leaving?" I nag.

"Just to annoy you back."

I change the subject, "What are you writing?"

"A song."

"What's it about?"

"An irritating girl who wouldn't leave this guy alone at the park."

"Not gonna get a record label for that crap."

"Well, no I won't get another one. But my one now will dig it."

"You're kidding."

"Do I seem like the person to kid?"

"That's all you've been doing the past two minutes."

"You make a point, but no I'm no lying."

"Why would anyone hire you?"

"'Cause I'm an amazing artist."

"Whatever keeps you dreaming..." I murmur, looking down at the ground,

"So now that I've talked to you, can I leave now?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"Because I haven't gotten your number yet."

"Is there a good reason you need it."

"Of course, to call you."

"Okay, Captain Obvious, but why would you even want to call me?"

"What if I just want to talk to you?"

"Why would you need to talk to me?"

He rolls his eyes, his thick eyelashes batting in annoyance, "Just give me your number."

"No!"

"Okay, then talk to me for another six hours. I'd really like to catch up." Blackmail.

"No!"

"Okay, so give me your number." He smirks because he knows he won. I huff and nod before he take out his phone and I put in my number. He takes it from me and studies it for a second before sneaking it back in his pocket.

"So now, can I leave?" I yawn, checking my watch. It's already been five minutes and it's painful to stay here longer.

"Yes, leave." He chuckles. He climbs back up the tree (which I hadn't realized that he actually was sitting in when the paper landed on me) before I leave, continuing to scribble notes into his paper and looking back up to watch me leave. I turn my head away and open up my book again, getting re-sucked into the love novel that has already captured me many times before.

It surprises me I like this book so much, I literally have no romance in my blood but I find it so amazing about how they fought for their love, which they were so very passionate about. But moving back to Louis, I promise you, if he calls me, I won't talk to him. I don't need to, I don't want to, and did I mention, I really don't want to...

Bye, Tomlinson.