World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

19.0

“What did you tell him? What the hell did you tell him?” Niall loses his temper again but Louis is fast enough to catch him.

“That’s the po-po,” Louis warns us, “They are coming over here. Let’s act cool.”

“Está tudo bem?” a huge police man asks.

“Tudo bem, cara,” the tourist calms him down.

“You are hot when you speak Portuguese,” I mumble to him, “What did you tell him?”

“Stop,” he answers and I can see the Irish starting to look like a beast. I am so going to get punched after this but I don’t care.

“Is everything okay, lady?” The Brazilian guy addresses to Cara.

“Yeah,” she kicks the floor in a weird attempt to play it cool, “All good, man. We are just friends being friends, aren’t we?”

“We are,” the three of us answer in unison.

“Good night then,” the man says and starts to walk away from us.

“Hey, officer,” the model calls him, “Do you have a light?” she takes a cigarette from her purse.

“Sure,” he gives her the lighter and then walks away from us but stays close, just a few steps later. He so knows what’s going on.

“Okay,” Cara sighs, “Now we are going to leave. You go that way,” she tells the happy disgusting couple, “And we will go this way,” she grabs me by the arm.

“I’ll get you tomorrow, sissy,” the douche gives me a warning glare.

“Whatever you say, blondie,” I tease him.

“Dude,” the model gets serious, “You need to stop.”

“Why are you with him?” I ask Louis and Niall tries to get closer to me again.

“The man is staring at us, guys. Please, stop,” Cara sounds frustrated.

“It’s just a question,” I look at Louis, “Why are you with him?”

“I can’t believe you,” the blonde guy clenches his jaw.

“Harry, not now,” the tourist mumbles.

“Are you serious? I’m done with this!” the hottie walks away and tries to pull Louis by his hand but he stays here with us.

“I just need a moment,” he says sheepishly.

“Are you serious? If you don’t come with me right now,” he threatens him.

“What? What will happen? I swear of God that if you put a hand on him,” I say, starting to feel my blood boil at the thought of him hurting Louis.

“Relax,” Louis interrupts me, “He is just nervous.”

“You know he is not good for you,” I insist, “Why are you with him?”

“Harry,” he looks at Niall, who’s walking away from us.

“Just answer that,” I start to sound pathetic, “He doesn’t treat you right,” he just stays in silence, “He is not good for you. You deserve better.”

“And do you treat me right?” he mumbles and I stay quiet because he is right, “Do you?” he insists, looking straight into my eyes.

“I promise I’ll treat you like you deserve to be treated,” I sound even more pathetic, “I will try. I will get better and I will try.”

“Harry,” Cara tries to stop me.

“I can’t right now,” the tourist says and he turns around to walk away from me.

“Don’t leave me like this,” I beg. My voice is starting to break a little.

“I’m sorry,” he turns around to look at me, “I really am.”

“Just one chance,” I raise my voice, “One chance is all I’m asking for.”

“Louis!” the Irish douche yells from almost a block away, “You come here right now!” he demands.

“Will he punch you?” I get worried, “Will you be hurt because of me?”

“Of course he won’t punch me,” he fakes a laugh, “But I need to go now. We’ll talk some other day, okay?”

“No then?” I insist with a small voice while he turns around to walk away again, “I don’t get a chance?”

He is right there, standing just a few steps away from me. He is not moving but he is not turning around to give me a chance either.

The model hugs me from behind, “I’m proud of you,” she whispers at my ears.

“Do you love him?” I ask out loud and he finally faces me again, “Do you seriously love him? Because if you do, I’ll stop,” I say, fearing what the answer could be.

“I do,” he sighs, “I wish I didn’t but I do.”

“Okay,” I nod as I feel my eyes getting watery and Cara’s grip getting stronger around my waist, “Thank you for being honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I really am,” he walks away to meet his boyfriend and I have to fight hard against my need to sob.

When did I become so pathetic? When did I lose my pride like this? What happened to me?

“I am sorry too,” I yell, “I am sorry that you love him!”

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