Chemistry [One Direction: Harry Styles Romance]

:Chapter Seventeen:

                “I’m coming in.”

                I squealed, tugging on a shirt quickly as I whipped around and glared at Louis Tomlinson. He obviously hadn’t seen anything he shouldn’t have, because his face was still hard and he was ready to talk business – which I didn’t like.

                “Geez, it’s called knocking,” I huffed, falling back to sit on my bed.

                He grinned. “Your mother let me in. I figured I would show myself the way to your room.”

                I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, how nice. What are you doing here?”

                Louis looked at me again, his friendly façade dropping as he again turned into serious-mode, which I’ve rarely seen out of him. I was expecting something bad to happen – like some big, awful news that would shock me into a coma. But no, this was Louis being Louis, and I could never tell if he was actually serious or just trying to psych me out.

                “Do you like Harry?”

                I blinked. And then I felt word vomit rise in my throat, and it took all I had to keep it down. I didn’t know why, but I was about to say yes, which isn’t the truth. Well, I knew I had been crushing on Harry Styles these past few months, but wasn’t that normal out of a teenage girl towards a superstar? And we were just friends, too.

                Nothing more but the closest of friends. In fact, I think it was safe to say he was my best friend – not just here, in London, but including back home, since he obviously overshadowed Isabel in his awesomeness. Louis studied my face carefully and I tried to keep it straight, wondering exactly what answer he wanted out of me.

                So I went with neutral. “Why do you ask?”

                “I can tell,” Louis said smugly. “That you like the lad, I mean. The way that you act around him shows how comfortable you are with him. It’s quite brilliant, actually.”

                My mouth fell open, but I quickly composed myself. “W-What do you mean?”

Great.

Stutter.

                Louis chuckled, “You don’t have to get so defensive, I won’t tell him. I’m simply wondering, is all.”

                I raised a brow. “You’re wondering? But you already know the answer.”

                “I know.” He winked.

                Falling back on my bed, I groaned. “British boys are so confusing.” As an afterthought, I added, “Including celebrity British boys.”

                “It’s okay to like him, you know.” He said, falling back beside me.

                “No it’s not,” I denied quickly.

                Louis sighed. “And why not? He’s a great–”

                “I know he’s a great person,” I interjected. “He’s sweet, and funny, and caring… But I can’t like him. Millions of girls already are dying for his affection.”

                “And he chose you,” The British boy muttered beside me.

                I sat upright, turning to him with a raised eyebrow and expectant look. Louis Tomlinson grinned sheepishly, obviously letting the words slip out with the intentions of just himself hearing. Slowly, he sat upright on the bed too, and we were having a silent stare down until he finally spilled what he was talking about.