Making it Another Day <3 (A Louis Tomlinson FanFic)

Waking Up <3 (Chapter 13)

I snatched one of their cameras and slammed it on the sidewalk. It crashed into three distinct pieces, one for each of the men who were after me. All three men yelled screams of protest, complaining about how expensive their precious technology was.

It was then that I understood my predicament. Three against one, the paparazzi easily had me cornered. I shoved one to the side and took off down the sidewalk. I ran for a while, still hearing their footsteps behind me.

Suddenly, I slammed into an alley in an attempt to lose them. I tripped over something and fell to the ground, rolling through the dust in the floor of the alley. Despite wanting to yell in pain, I was silent until I saw the men run past the entryway.

I had no clue where I was now, but I pulled myself from the ground and peeked from the alley. As far as I could tell, the cameramen were long gone.

Just down the block was Christa's apartment. In fear that I would be sighted again, I took off for the refuge of her home.

Once inside, I fabricated the story about falling asleep on Marc's couch and coincidentally running into Johnny. I didn't want Christa to know how I'd ignored her advice about the party.

I found myself acutely aware of her scrutiny, and for an unknowable reason, I was completely okay with it. When she allowed me to stay over, I was so elated that I grabbed her arm when she tried to leave. "Wait," I gasped, feeling lightheaded in her presence. "Thank you."

It was then that I kissed her. We kissed for some time, the taste of her reminding me of every other kiss before. Sweet, enveloping, serene.

After a while, I urged her back on the couch, wanting nothing more than to be with her. It seemed that she knew my intentions, yet it took her a full twenty seconds to stop me.

Her eyes sparkled with a happy light, yet when they bored into mine, I knew she was dead serious about her coming words. "Louis, you know we can't."

I stared at her for an empty moment. She didn't want me in that way? I couldn't help but feel the hurt at such a rejection. I was so ready to do this, and she stopped me?

After blinking a few times, I looked at her again. It was clear that she wanted to; her morals were too strong, however, to jeopardize what we already had.

Somehow I read that just by looking at her. The even greater feat was that I wanted that for her, too. If she wanted to keep her morals in tact, I had no right to insist that she throw them away

. To make her happy, I sighed. "You're right. We can't," I agreed.

Suddenly I was yanked into dozens of other memories; they all seemed to flow together at once, but each brought with it a new kind of hurt for me. Countless times and opportunities to come clean: every fan's peppy face as I signed their autograph, all the while knowing Christa was within seeing distance; the look of trust that she always held for me. It all came at once in a big ocean wave of guilt.

I was jolted awake by the sound of a slamming door. It took me a moment to gather that I was still on Christa's couch; the movie was over, however, and the living room was empty.

I stretched and rolled onto my back, craning my head around the side of the couch. I could see Niall's blonde hair in the kitchen, distorted from my sleepy eyes. I stood finally, yawning, and stepped into the kitchen just in time to hear Niall's frustrated voice. "Harry, we can't just leave without an explanation." Niall ran his hand through his hair. His shiny blue eyes shimmered in the light from the window. Harry stood leaning against a counter, his head turned slightly sideways. He'd always done that when he was feeling particularly upset about something.

Lawson came into the room, his brow furrowed. "What did you lads do?" He crossed the kitchen and stood by Harry, releasing a stream of curse words. "She kicked me out of her room," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, good," Harry said, his eyes turning to me. Only then did he see my confused glance. "You missed all the excitement."

"What's going on?"

"Your girlfriend found out your little secret," Niall said angrily. "We don't even know when she was going to tell you about it."

"What?"

"Lou, wake up. Christa's really broken up about this. What are we gonna do?" Harry pinched the top of his forehead, moving away from the counter. "Have you seen your latest article?"

"What article?" Lawson asked.

"The one that shows Louis' 'real' reason for vacation." Again, Harry was the one being absolutely sensible, and here I was still trying to wrap my head around what I'd done.

"Someone caught you two by the beach. Christa saw the magazine and bought it." Harry sighed, his eyes trailing to the company. "And I just had to find it. Now she knows that we all lied to her."

"You guys go out to the car, and I'll go talk to her," I instructed.

"But, Lou-"

I cut Niall's sentence off with a wave of my hand. "I have to speak to her."

Without another word, the three of them trailed out of the house. The front door's click made me shiver. 'Come on, Louis. You knew this was coming eventually,' I said to myself, turning to saunter down the hallway.

Her door was locked. I knocked anyway, feeling much like a father trying to speak with his misbehaving daughter. Only this time, I was the one in the wrong here.

"Who is it?" Christa's voice rang out politely and I sighed. She was still trying to be calm and collected, even when she'd been lied to.

"Christa, open up." My voice oozed a strange venom. I wanted to get this over with, to clear my conscience, if nothing else.

It was silent for a moment. I opened my mouth to speak again, but then the door cracked open and Christa eased around it. She closed the door and stood against it, her arms crossed.

The air in the hallway was smothering, be it because of our close proximity or the fact that I was nervous, I couldn't decide. But Christa held herself as though nothing was out of place, save for her red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair.

"I'm sorry." My simple statement caught me off guard; surely my muddled mind could find something lengthier than that. As I thought more, I realized that I in fact had no other words to describe what I'd done.

She blinked. "You're sorry? What an understatement."

An understatement it was. "I'm... More than sorry. I..." My brain tried to gather fitting words to describe my feelings for Christa. To say I loved her was a bit too strong, and definitely not appropriate at the moment. "Really care about you..." I continued. "...And I want you to forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Christa's eyes went blank. "The Bible says that I'm to forgive because I've been forgiven. I've never realized how hard that could be."

Despite my urge to tell her how the Bible had nothing to do with us, I held my tongue. She went on. "You're forgiven." She gulped. "But I don't want you here anymore. Just go back to your 'band' and your money, and your fangirls, and leave me alone."

Christa, in all her beauty, was crying again, and I couldn't help being shocked at the rejection. I had expected... Well, I'd expected this exact outcome, really. But I still wished for a different ending to this relationship.

Hating it, and hating myself, I turned on my heel and headed for the door, vowing that I would make it up to her somehow.