The Replica // l.t.

Chapter Two ❄[edited]

A smile appeared on Jaime's lips when she rose out of bed that morning. It was Christmas Eve, she thought happily. Christmas Day and Christmas Eve were two of her favorite days when it came to holidays. There was joy and love on these two particular days that Jaime couldn't help but feel as if it were the best holiday out of the year.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she realized it was early in the morning. The clock she bought a year ago was still working like a charm, reading six in the morning. On any normal given day, Jaime would crawl back underneath the sheets and pretend she never woke up so early. On Christmas Eve, however, she couldn't pretend. She was happily awake and ready to start her day.

Kicking the sheets off her legs, she padded over towards her dresser and picked her baby blue robe up and wrapped it around her body. Jaime headed out into the kitchen, all plans on getting a cup of peppermint flavored coffee set on her mind. As she flitted in the kitchen mindlessly, she was oblivious to the man sitting on her couch.

As Jaime turned, her lips on the rim of her coffee mug, she finally noticed the man. Jaime shrieked, the mug slipping from her fingers. The coffee cup shattered, hot liquid splashing onto her feet. Jaime jumped back and let out a string of profanities.

The young man jumped up from his spot on the couch to help her. He picked up the glass pieces carefully and dropped them into the trash bin. The man then reached for the hand towel on the counter and patted the coffee-soaked floor.

“But you're-” Jaime couldn't finish speaking. She was still too shocked to form a proper sentence.

The man grinned at her, resembling a puppy. His tongue poked out, his eyes wide with excitement. He couldn't look happier.

“Naked!” she cried out.

To prevent anything from being seen, Jaime covered her eyes with her hands. Before she had shut her eyes and shield them to not see anything that shouldn't be seen, Jaime had seen his face for a sliver of a moment.

Although she couldn't be sure, it was a face she'd seen only once before. The tousled brown hair, the unforgettable blue eyes and the thin features... not to mention the grin on his face and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

It was insane of her to believe Louis Tomlinson was standing in front of her naked without a stitch on. The popular band-member was in England, was he not? According to the article Macy read last night, he was. So how could Louis-Freaking-Tomlinson be standing in front of her in the bare nude, grinning at her like a puppy?

Regardless of who he was, he could not stay naked.

“Stay right there,” Jaime instructed him, turning her back on him. Safely, she opened her eyes. “Don't you move, I'll be back with clothes.”

Her mind whirled with confusion as Jaime dug out a box of clothes from underneath her bed. In a haste, she'd shoved it underneath there hoping to never come across it again. Jaime thanked her lucky stars that she never threw Brian's clothes away. At last, they'd come in handy.

Jaime pulled out a pair of sweatpants, a pair of sneakers he'd left here and a plain t-shirt she figured would fit the guy. She set them aside as she dressed herself in a dark pair of jeans and a moss green cashmere sweater. In her haste, she grabbed a pair of black boots while throwing her hair into a messy, but doable, ponytail.

Without looking, she entered the kitchen again and threw the clothes and shoes at him.

“Put them on,” Jaime said harshly.

“Wha—what are these?” the guy asked, holding them away from him, a heavy English accent tainting his words.

Jaime panicked. “Please! Put them on your body, I don't want to see you naked!”