Want You Bad (Louis Tomlinson fan fiction) [completed]

Chapter 7

I don't like it, but here.

Chapter 7:

“Did you really need to make that whole bag?” Louis asked me as I pulled the trays of pizza rolls out of the oven. There was a bag of 90 in the freezer, and I was hungry.

“Yes. It was completely necessary.”

“Why are they plain cheese?”

I gave him a look. “Look here, Tomlinson. Cheese pizza rolls are the best. You don’t have to eat any if you’re gonna be picky.”

He held his hands up. “I was just asking a question. I don’t know about American pizza rolls.”

“Is there a difference?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a pizza roll, to be honest.”

I shook my head at him. “Well, I’m glad to be the one to share this experience with you. I wouldn’t be able to live in England, no way. No Dairy Queen, no pizza rolls, s’mores aren’t a thing, how do you people do it?”

“We’re well adapted?”

“Fuck off,” I laughed. I pulled my phone out and turned on the camera. “We have to commemorate this moment, I hope you know.”

“Whatever you say,” he groaned as if it was an inconvenience.

I laughed and leaned over my counter, motioning for him to lean over the other side. I made sure the pizza rolls were in the shot as well and took the picture. I smiled at it. “I’m definitely tweeting this.”

“Can we eat now?”

I glared playfully at him. “Wait until the tweet is sent!” I attached the picture and typed a caption: 90 pizza rolls vs me and @Louis_Tomlinson. Game on. “Okay, now we can eat!” I hit a button on the remote that was on the counter and turned on the stereo system, because what’s a feast without a killer soundtrack?

“I can’t believe we ate all 90,” Louis groaned, rubbing his hand on his stomach.

“I can’t believe you only ate 30,” I taunted him, sitting next to him. “But you’re a beginner, so I won’t beat you up for it.”

“How do you not feel sick?”

“I’m an American. We shovel so much garbage into our stomachs it’s not even funny. But whenever the band and I go to another country, I miss American food. And the portions! American portions are the best.” Louis just laughed at me, clearly not understanding my love for American food. “You’re hopeless.”

“No, I’m British.”

“Same thing,” I shrugged, laughing when Louis started tickling my sides. “Stop! Stop tickling me!” I gasped out, wiggling to try and get away from him.

“Nahh, I’m good.”

“Knock it off, Tomlinson,” I made my voice stern. “Stop tickling me or I’ll kick you out and tweet all of your fans where to find you with no bodyguard.”

He stopped tickling me, but held my wrists in his hands. “Don’t do that.”

I shrugged. “Or I’ll take all of your tea and throw it into the Pacific,” I giggled.

“That’s already been done, love.”

I shook my head. “Not with the Pacific Ocean.”

He rolled his eyes and let go of me. “You’re ridiculous, Natalie.”

“I know. It’s part of my charm.”

Louis laughed and pulled me close to him, wrapping his arms around me with my back to his chest. “I don’t want to leave in a few days.”