Love to Hate You (A Harry Styles Love Story)

Chapter 4 - Peanut Butter

I sat in the living room with four-fifths of One Direction, one of them being busy in the bathroom, fixing his hair. 

 Glaring at the screen of my phone, I muttered death threats toward that one member who wasn’t here at the moment. The phone was pulled out of my hands, and I crossed my arms, staring at Louis Tomlinson, who had a weird smile on his face.

 “Give it back.”

 He shook his head, still smiling, “No. I don’t think I will.”

 I wanted to rip his perky little face off. Why was he smiling at a time like this? It was beginning to really irritate me.

 “Louis,” I said, more calmly, “I need that phone back, so I could have a reason to hate Harry and think of a nice way to get back at him.”

 The rest of the boys were ignoring us, Zayn on his phone and Niall and Liam watching the game on the television. They were probably used to things like this. I wasn’t.

 “You know,” he said, sitting down next to me, while trying to figure out my phone’s password, “I could always help you.”

 My eyebrows knit together, “Why would you do that? I thought you and Harry were friends.”

 “We are,” he grinned at me, “But I’m always up for a little prank.”

 My eyes widened a little as realization hit me, “You’re serious?”

 He nodded. Pranking people might’ve been the only thing Louis Tomlinson was ever serious about. Sometimes, he had the energy and maturity of a six-year-old. That’s what made me excited for the prank. How amazing of an imagination would a six-year-old have? Think about it..

 “What are you two smiling about?” Harry said, coming into the room.

 I kept my mouth shut, knowing if I said something, I’d give it all away.

 “We’re just excited for the game,” Louis said, pointing to the television.

 Oh, no. Louis might’ve looked convincing, but that set off the suspicion in Harry. He knew me too well and knew my hatred for sports. I had a feeling he would be keeping an eye on me from now on.

 “Right,” he said sarcastically, plopping down on my other side.

I spent the next half hour wedged between two world-famous teenagers, one of them still attempting to hug me, and the other enjoying his life while I begged him to give me my phone back. In all of this, my only entertainment was the American football on television. Big, burly men in tights running after a weirdly-shaped ball. How fun.

 After the game was over, Louis gave me my phone back and told me to check my messages. I looked at him curiously. I had a feeling he had texted me, but how did he know my number?

 I did as he told and saw a new message from the name ‘Louis :D’. The genius had figured out my passcode and put his number into it. The message read:

 Come over to the hotel tomorrow morning. I have a colorful idea. ;)

 What? That wasn’t very informative, was it? It was like those little clues that Tyra Banks would write to the models on America’s Next Top Model that would drive them crazy. It was vague, and it was bringing the curious little girl to the surface. Being the impatient person that I was, I had to find out what he meant by colorful before the next morning. I had to get him alone, or, at least, away from Harry.

 I got out of my seat, ignoring Harry tugging on my shirt, and went to the kitchen. I got out a sealed jar of pickles, attempting to open it and smiling when it wouldn’t budge.