A Lost Hope (Louis Fanfic)

Chapter 11- I Write Sins, Not Tragedies

It's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.

-I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic at the Disco

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I hate subways. And I don't hate a lot of things. Just subways... and I used to hate Louis, maybe not so much. But that's beside the point. I hate subways. The cold plastic seats, the repulsing smell, the dirty floor, and the rude snobby people. I cringe as the person I'm seating next to sneezes and I can see the mucus fly onto the floor. Across from me, a woman looks like she is off to work... as a stripper... and is adjusting her boob job. A small child sits on the floor to my right as his mother breast feeds her daughter. I'm more than relieved when we come to my stop. I am quick to slip out the doors and head up the concrete, graffiti covered steps into the cold New York air. A smile slips across my face as I stare at my favorite place; Central Park.

I'm quick to avoid the venders and cross an icy bridge. I (attempt to) dodge the slushy sidewalk until I reach the Boathouse. I slip inside where the smell of hot chocolate and pastries flood my nose as I slip into the warm lobby. I had gotten a call earlier saying I had a meeting here in a little bit and I had quickly gotten ready. I walked up to the wooden podium and was greeted by a man in a black suit.

"Hello I-"

"She's with me," replied a voice as a hand slipped around my waist. My voice hitched in my voice and I knew who it was without having to look up. That sneaky bastard had set up a fake meeting.

"Right this way sir," smiled the waiter sending him a wink as we were led down a hallway, half of hallway lined with windows that looked onto the frozen lake sprinkled with snow. We were led to a seclude table in the back where a bouquet of roses was draped across the table. The waiter placed down two menus before scurrying off back to the front of the restaurant. Louis pulled out my chair, smiling widely, as I sat down avoiding eye contact.

"Do you want to explain to me why I am here, Mr. Tomlinson?" I asked not bothering to look up from my menu. A small grin spread across my face as I observed all the food for such an expensive price. I should order everything and make Louis pay, although I'm certain it wouldn't even make a dent in his bank account.

"What? I'm not allowed to take you out?" he replied smirking and grabbing my hand from across the table.

"Not without a good reason nope." I replied kicking his shin. He winced, slightly releasing the grasp on my hand and rubbing his leg.

"Well why don't you look up, since you haven't done that and try to figure it out." he grinned. I glanced up before doing a double take and trying to keep my jaw from dropping. Louis sat there in a suit, his hair styled messily on his head and holding the bouquet of roses.

"A-a date?" I stuttered.

"Good deduction Watson, if you wanna call it that," he smirked settling back into his chair. He tossed me the flowers that I was quick to catch before releasing my hand and crossing his arms. He raised his eyebrow as if waiting for me to thank him, which was never going to happen.

"I never agreed to this," I said slowly rising from my chair.

"Yes you did. This morning when Christine called to organize our meeting you specifically said 'Of course I'll be there!' so technically you agreed." He replied mocking my voice.

"I don't sound like that," I mumbled to which he rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You tricked me!"

"I didn't trick you. Christine told you it was a meeting... and it is." He smirked back. I was silent until the waiter came and took our orders.