Soul Mates

Chapter Sixteen

"That was fantastic, Miss Jay, thank you."

My mum grins at Reagan, at the end of dinner. "No, thank you, love. If only Louis could cook..." she muses.

I turn pink, "Mum!" Reagan giggles, and I feel my face soften, looking at her. "Okay, the toaster doesn't like me!"

"Or the oven, or the stove, or the mixer, or the-"

I cover Reagan's mouth with my hand. "Shh... Peasant." I feel something wet on my palm, did she- "Ew! She licked my hand!" I squeal out. Like a man.

Reagan innocently smiles, as my family laughs. I rub my hand on Lottie, who happens to be on my other side. She squeals, smacking my arm. I hear Reagan's adorable - there's that damned word again - giggles. I look over to her, seeing her covering her mouth with her hand, but her eyes crinkled, as they are when she laughs.

Something about this sight makes me wish I could paint. Not that I could do her any justice. No artist could. Maybe the reason is the oversized jumper sleeves that nearly reach her finger tips, which cover her mouth, or the way her brown irises shine bright, or most likely the sunlight hitting her back, causing her brunette hair to look auburn around the edges. She almost looks as if she has a halo. All in all, she looks abosolutely amazing, all while wearing what she calls her 'I'm not going to try' outfit: a large jumper - that is mine, and it covers her bum and most of her hands -, leggings, and a pair of striped socks.

After a few moments, her laughing quiets, as she looks back at me. We just look at each other, and can't see anything else but her. I hear my sisters get up, probably going to put dishes in the sink and then chill in their rooms. I hear the sink start, Mum must be starting the dishes.

I wish I could just lean in and kiss Reagan.

Wait, what was that? Why did I think that? I do not want to kiss her, I do not want to snog her, I do not want to be romantic in any way to her.

She breaks my thoughts, standing abruptly and taking her plate. I wrap my hand around my plate, but she takes it, her finger tips brushing mine. I resist the urge to grab her hand with mine, or her waist with my arm, or her face between my hands. I watch her as she walks into the kitchen. Maybe I watch her... rear... also, but definetely not shamelessly. I blush bright red, cursing myself out, mentally.

After a few minutes of sitting, I realize Reagan isn't going to come back anytime soon. I rise from my seat, head up to my room, and tweet about doing a TwitCam. I open my laptop, and start up the camera. I smile into it, greeting whoever may be watching. I get bunch of 'hello lou!'s. "So, today, Reagan got here to Doncaster, and she's downstairs doing my chore right now." I look at the responses, laughing. "@yours-to-hold asks if I still have chores. I'm am sad to admit that I, twenty-three year old famous singer, still have to do chores at home." A lot of things are asked, and I try to answer as many as possible. "It's too quiet... Who wants some music?" The answers are all positive, and one asks if I can dance with the music. I turn on my stereo. Playing is my good friend Ed's song, Sing. "@kitkatsoccer38 wants me to dance, so I will bring out the old moves." I show them a few of the ones from X Factor, and from over the past four years.

Reagan walks in half way through, and rolls her eyes. She sits in front of my laptop, squinting and trying to figure out how it works. She pulls on her new white glasses, that make her look so damn sexy, and looks at the screen.

"Love, it's a TwitCam. Live broadcasting to whoever is watching," I tell, while still dancing behind her. "Smile, you're on camera."

"Oh! Uh, hi!" she states, and I now realize her voice has a slight English twang to it. "What do these say..." She reads the tweets at the side. "Uh, @kenziethedirectioner is asking how I've been. If that's how this works... I've been good, staying with the lads and their families. I just met with Perrie three weeks ago and I love her!" She pauses. "@theycallmemrstomlinson asks if I could dance with Louis." I'm too caught up in her saying 'they call me Mrs. Tomlinson' to notice her standing next to me and copying what I'm doing. Reagan Tomlinson has a very nice ring to it. God damn, Louis! Shut your bloody mouth!