Playboy » L.S

Chapter 26

Louis' pov.

Alcohol. I need alcohol.

That fucking nightmare is still fresh in my mind, taunting me every time I close my eyes, the vision of Harry fucking another man clear as day. I forget most of the dreams I have a couple seconds after I wake up, but of course, when I have an absolutely horrible one it happens to stick in my mind.

"Louis, are you sure you're alright?" Damien snaps me out of my thoughts. "You haven't been acting the same ever since this afternoon when I woke you up."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I lie through my teeth, waving his concerns away. We're seated at the bar in Damien's club, and I think Damien has been talking about something for the past couple of minutes or so, but of course I haven't been listening. This damn dream is fucking with my mind and I don't know what to do about it.

"Cam!" I call, raising my hand to wave him over to us. He scurries over to us, his eyes constantly flickering back and forth between Damien and I. "I want four shots of pure vodka. Limes on the side, please."

"Louis -" Damien turns in his seat. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong? You don't need to be drinking that much on your own."

"I'm a paying customer, Cam," I completely ignore Damien, keeping my eyes focused on the boy in a slutty waiter's outfit. "I ordered it."

Cam gives one more worried look to Damien before turning away from us and making my shots. He slides them all in front of me, the limes cut so they fit on the rim of each glass.

"Louis -" Damien begins again, but before he can continue, I've already knocked back half of the shots. I feel my face scrunch in protest, but manage to down the other two glasses.

"It's not that much, Damien," I nearly growl, pulling out my wallet and throwing the right amount onto the bar counter. "Stop being an uptight priss."

"You're the one acting up when I literally didn't do anything to you!" He yells. "You just had some silly little dream, and you've been a distant asshole ever since!"

"Oh, fuck off, Damien," I roll my eyes and slide off of the bar stool. I don't say anything else as I push through the dancing crowd, and Damien doesn't even try calling after me as I exit the club.

I know I'm probably over reacting, but when don't I? I'm irrational, everybody knows it. I'm a fucking insecure mess, and if Harry does actually fuck a guy in his dressing room then I don't know what I'd do. I'm not sure if that has happened yet or not, but for right now, I need to focus on where I'm going and how I'm getting there. The affects of the strong alcohol are just now hitting me, causing the sidewalk to slightly sway as I begin walking down it, the cold November air biting my skin through my thin jacket.

~

Harry's pov.

"Great show tonight, Haz!" Zayn cheers once he enters my dressing room, slapping me hard on the back before plopping down in the chair by my vanity.

"Not really," I mutter, sliding my bunny ears off of my head and tossing them onto the vanity. I know Zayn is just trying to be a good friend since I was obviously off-beat for most of my performance. I didn't put much effort into it because a certain blue-eyed boy wasn't sitting in the front row like I was expecting.

"What? Why not?" Zayn turns in his chair and gestures towards the laundry basket full of money. "You made a shit load, though!"

"It's not about the fucking money all the time, Zayn!" I yell, a bit too loudly judging by the way his eyes widen and the little jump his body does. "Maybe I just wanted to put on a fucking performance for my boyfriend! Maybe I just wanted to show him that I only want to be dancing for him now, and not every random guy in that disgusting club! I just wanted to be the center of his fucking attention, damnit!"