Playboy » L.S

Chapter 16

Louis' pov.

"Seriously, Lou?" Damien groans, shoving my feet off of his coffee table.

I simply ignore him, raising my legs again to rest my heels on top of the glass. I slouch back in the chair, pressing the button on the remote to change the channel. That damn marathon of America's Next Top Model was getting on my nerves.

I'm only faintly aware of Damien standing over me with his arms crossed, a stern look on his face. I keep my gaze focused on the television, my hand blindly reaching into the bag of chips I had on my lap.

When I shove the chips into my mouth, Damien groans again and snatches the bag of chips away from me.

"Hey! Those were mine!" I whine, wiping my hands off on my sweatpants before attempting to grab the bag.

"No!" He slaps my hand away. "You're cut off. Seriously, I think this is my last bag, you pig!"

I roll my eyes and direct my attention back on the television. Maybe if I ignore him he'll go away?

He brings his hand down and slaps the back of my head suddenly. Yep, that's got my attention. "What the hell, Dame!?"

"It's only been three days since you've last seen Harry and you've resorted to lonely eating, Lou! That's f.ucking sad!" He scolds, and I huff and cross my arms over my chest. "Why don't you text or call him?"

"Because I'm scared. I don't want to bother him, so I'm waiting for him to call," I mutter, shrugging my shoulders.

"Grow a damn pair, Louis," Damien sighs. "You're lucky that f.ucking date with him is tomorrow. I can't stand you eating all of my food out of pure boredom and loneliness."

Harry's pov.

"Dude, Haz, calm down," Zayn chuckles, patting my shoulder.

"But he hasn't text me or anything, Zee. What if he doesn't want to talk to me? What if he's second guessing our date tomorrow?" I ramble on about the worst case scenarios that a running through my head constantly.

"Harry, seriously, it's been three days. He's the one that asked you in the first place, chill out," He rolls his eyes and leans back against the brown couch in my living room.

"But what if he only asked me because he felt bad or something? You know, because I'm a Playboy and everything? Or, worse, what if he realized that a stripper isn't someone he wants? Oh God, Zee, he doesn't want me!"

"Harry! Listen to yourself, honestly, you sound like a psychotic teenage girl. You've been sitting here, cooped up in your apartment for the past three days just staring at your damn phone and watching pointless television. Want me to get you a tub of ice cream, too, while you're at it?"

"Do you have any?" I ask, watching as Zayn takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"You're so f.ucking annoying. Just call the kid already and quit moping around," He sighs and stands from the couch.

"Where are you going?" I watch as he walks over to my front door and shoves his feet into his red shoes.

"Out. Somewhere where you aren't, so you can't bring down my mood anymore," He shakes his head and opens the door.

"You know," He says, turning back to look at me. "For a guy who claims he doesn't have a crush, you sure act a lot like it."

With that, he exits my apartment and closes the door behind him, leaving me alone with my over analyzing thoughts running through my mind.

I'm seated on the couch, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. My hands keep twisting and fiddling together out of anxiety. I feel like I've been hovering over my phone on the coffee table for hours now, but I don't know what else to do.