Haven • H.S.

25. Be With Me

Haven- 25

"your touch, your skin. where do i begin? there's no words to explain the way i'm missing you..."

Ella.

I'd always been told my face was easy to read. And in most scenarios, whether I was listening to a sad story, or reading a funny book, anyone near me would be able to tell how I felt from calculating my features. The dip in my brows. The light in my eyes.

This was another one of those times.

Abby watched, confused, as my face fell.

Louis Tomlinson.

I hated that name. I hated what that name meant; who it meant. And as if I was suddenly there again, in the same moment at the party almost two weekends ago, I replayed the crippled emotion Harry had shown at the sight of his old friend. Nothing could stop me from feeling defensive over my boyfriend; it was something I'd grown used to, and maybe if I wasn't shocked out of my mind that night I'd have been able to step in rather than cower back like a spineless nobody. Maybe I'd have been able to stand before the one man who's always defended me, and returned the favor. But I couldn't do anything about that now, because more importantly, Louis had weaseled his way into my life again. Somehow. Someway. Maybe unconsciously, maybe not.

And Abby had no idea just what type of man Louis Tomlinson equated to.

"Ella," Abby said, exasperated and looking like she'd been saying my name for some time now, but only just caught my attention.

Immediately, I lifted to my knees on my bed, eyeing her without trying to be discreet. How did I warn her? Was I just supposed to come out and say that her frequent date, non-boyfriend was a sleaze?

"So it seems you know him." This time, Abby's voice was firmer, more assured now.

"Yeah," I clipped. "I know him."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're not giving much away other than freaking me the fuck out by looking like that." See? The easily readable features are at it again.

"Well, I...uh." Was it too late to run across the hallway and knock on Harry's door, take security in his safe arms and call it a night?

I knew one other way to go about figuring things out though. "Are you guys serious?" I asked innocently.

"Not really," she said, shrugging. "He's not much of a serious guy. We've just been hanging out."

"And have you been over to his dorm?"

"Yes."

I couldn't help it-- my eyes narrowed. "You know of his life style then?"

"Life style?" She looked confused now.

"Parties. Girls. Alcohol. And... maybe other stuff." I wasn't particularly trying to dissuade her from ever seeing the guy again, but let's be real, I kind of was.

Her face creased. Taking a moment to catagorize her thoughts, she played with her robe again. "I mean," she started. "I knew he liked to go to those parties..."

We were getting somewhere. Maybe I actually would be able to disengage this bomb before it blew. "I'm just saying, Ab, I don't want you to be hurt. And I know the type of guy he is." And I also knew the type of girl Abby was. They just didn't mix; they were oil and water.

She was genuinely shocked when she said, "He's just been so nice to me... I don't know. Maybe I was missing the alterior motive."

I nodded. "A lot of us do that. Most the time it's hard to see people for what they are at all."