IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT END OF CHAPTER.
It was December; the days were frigid and cold, the temperatures dropping below zero plenty of times. Snowfall in the small, Minnesotan town was frequent. Many complained, but the only one who seemed to enjoy the cold weather was a blonde, green-eyed nineteen year old by the name of Jaime Butler.
She was walking through the light snowfall and wind with two plastic bags of groceries hanging from her arms. Normally, Jaime would have gotten a ride from her best friend, Macy, to the store, but she was busy with her own life that day. With her parents gone, and no other friends to depend on, Jaime was forced to walk.
Regardless of the wind that bit her exposed skin, Jaime didn't mind walking all that much. She loved hearing the sound of snow crunch beneath her feet or the wind kissing her skin and turning it a shade of pink.
It was a ten minute walk from the grocery store to her house. Jaime hadn't been walking very long, only a couple of minutes. So she had a perfectly good reason to deny the offer given to her in the moments to come.
A navy blue, glossy car rolled up to the sidewalk. The windows were tinted, so Jaime hadn't recognized the face, or the car, until the windows rolled down to reveal a man her age. He had chocolate brown, cropped hair and a thin, angled face. The face was familiar to Jaime.
Well, it should be familiar. She dated the guy for almost three years.
Jaime frowned, but didn't acknowledge the man driving the car.
“Jaime, can I give you a ride?” he called out to the blond girl walking.
However, she grunted and kept on walking. The last time she had spoken to him was graduation day. He had enough courage to congratulate her. Jaime, as polite as she could, said the words back to him before moving on to find her family in the crowd of people waiting for their children who've just graduated.
“Jaime, come on! It's fucking cold out. Don't ignore me!”
Jaime swiveled around to face Brian. He had stopped and parked the car to follow her down the sidewalk on foot.
What a gentleman.
“What the hell are you doing in Minnesota?” she snapped as she buried her hands inside her coat pockets, the bags sliding down to her wrists.
The last time Jaime knew about Brian's whereabouts was three months ago. Jaime was told by someone she used to be close with in high school that Brian moved to Australia for college. Jaime wasn't one to complain about distance, especially if it meant Brian was half a world away, but the farther he was away from her, the better.
Brian, too, shoved his hands inside his coat pockets. He rocked on the back of his heels as he responded. “My mom wanted me home for Christmas since I couldn't come for Thanksgiving.”
Jaime barely nodded in response, feeling a tad bit guilty.
Of course he would be home in Minnesota with his family on Christmas!
Responding to Brian's earlier statement, Jaime said, “I don't mind winter, Brian.”
He was determined, though. Quickly stepping forward he grabbed her wrist and tugged it back, refusing to let Jaime run away from him.
“Come on, it's another ten blocks before you get home. Let me give you a lift,” he begged, still holding onto her hand like he was afraid she'd run away if he let go.
Jaime sighed through her nostrils. Brian wouldn't leave her alone until she agreed to the damn lift. If she walked, she'd get home in ten minutes at the most. If she accepted Brian's offer, she would be home in less then five. The idea of being home so soon made her realize how cold she was. The wind was beginning to feel harsh on her nose and cheeks.
It was decided then. A short ride in Brian's car wouldn't hurt, right?
Anything to get out of the cold, Jaime thought.
“Fine,” Jaime agreed at last, “but don't expect me to say much, though.”
Brian grinned, seemingly happy with her response to at least accept the ride, as Jaime followed him to his car. Sliding into the passenger seat, the warm air fanned her face. She sighed in content. She was colder than she thought. Her fingers were pink, and she felt as if pins and needles were being pressed into her legs.
Jaime set the bags of groceries next to her feet before twisting her body to buckle up.
After Brian buckled up and took the car out of park, he began asking questions. Jaime groaned internally, knowing that something like this was bound to happen if she agreed to the lift.
Then she heard the words, “Why are you so against being around me, Jaime?” and she froze.
Jaime asked herself the same thing. Why was she so against being around Brian again? He was her first love after all. He was her first kiss, first date to a public dance, first person to take her out on a date—Brian was her first everything.
Somewhere in the end of the three years they were dating, things began to change. Jaime remembered the change very clearly. It wasn't so obvious at first. It took her quite a while to notice the change between them. Normally, they would have showed PDA in the hallways: always kissing before and after class, holding hands whenever possible, and attached to each others hip. Brian and Jaime were the lovey-dovey, over-the-top kind of couple. They both cared about each other extensively and loved to show it. At first, it didn't bother Jaime that Brian was a little distant. She figured that finally PDA wasn't a big part of their relationship anymore—didn't all couples go through that stage?
Looking back now, Jaime called herself a naïve girl. It was stupid of her to believe that Brian would be loyal to her in the almost three years they dated. Near the end of their relationship, Jaime found out from a friend of Brian's that he'd been flirting with other girls behind her back, whenever she wasn't around.
If it was one thing Jaime never put up with, it was the idea of her boyfriend flirting with other girls. When the idea became a reality, she felt used and like she was never good enough. Jaime wasn't naïve enough to let someone treat her that way, so she ended the relationship with her head held high, but her heart broken.
As she thought about it all, she felt something in her chest. It was a feeling she felt so many times before with crushes and her short-term relationship boyfriends: heartbreak. Feeling her chest tight up and being squeezed, Jaime realized why she was so against seeing Brian. She detested him because while she was crying and upset for weeks, he was sucking on another girl's face in the school hallways.
Jaime had wondered, at that moment, why she had spent almost three years on a guy who broke her heart in the end, why someone like Brian even bothered with a long-term relationship if he wanted someone else in the end.
She didn’t know the answers.
Tears blurred Jaime's vision and she hastily blinked them away. She could not cry in front of Brian. She refused to.
Jaime didn't answer Brian until he was parked in her parents' driveway. She turned to him with a solemn smile and said, "How can I look at you the same way? I cried for days while you kissed and had an arm wrapped around another girl. I was heart-broken and you seemed like you were having the time of your life."
She turned to grab the handle, but the sound of Brian's voice stopped her.
"Is that what you think, that I never cared about you?" his voice was slightly harsh. "Jaime, you've got it all wrong. I may have fallen out of love with you, but that didn't stop me from caring. I spent three years on you. Of course I still care."
Brian reached for Jaime's hand, but she snatched it out of reach.
Jaime frowned. "You had a funny way of showing it."
The words that came out of Brian's mouth shocked Jaime enough to scoff at him and walk away without giving him an answer. "Honestly, I still care about you. I still wonder quite often on how you're doing. I wonder if you need a friend at your side. Please, Jaime. I want to be your friend again."
Jaime walked into the house without looking back at Brian. She couldn't even look at him, too shocked to even think about his words.
An hour and a half later, Jaime found herself in the kitchen making lasagna. The ground beef was cooked and drained. A couple cans of spaghetti sauce were opened and poured into the same pot the beef was cooked in. While the sauce cooked on medium heat, Jaime because gathering the rest of the ingredients: ricotta cheese, mozzarella cheese, eggs, a bit of the Parmesan cheese, dried parsley, and salt and pepper. She mixed all of these ingredients in a large bowl.
By the time the sauce was finished, it was time to layer the lasagna and preheat the oven. Jaime poured the sauce mix first, then laid the uncooked noodles down carefully—her mother once explained that she didn't need to cook the noodles before playing them in the pan; the moisture from the layers had cooked the noodles enough while in the oven. Jaime then layered the cheese mixture on top of the noodles, followed by the sauce. She repeated this process a few times before layering the top with the last of the cheese mixture. Before sliding the pan into the oven, Jaime made sure she added water to the pan—for the noodles, of course—and covered it with aluminum foil.
Jaime set the timer and sunk into one of the kitchen chairs.
The past few hours, Jaime refused to acknowledge the fact that her ex-boyfriend, Brian, had enough confidence to want to be friends again. It was the last thing she wanted to think about. Brian was nothing good, and she knew it all too well.
Why had he bothered care, though? Jaime was sure that Brian didn't care—at all. If he could cheat on her, then didn't that clearly state he no longer cared? Then if so, what was with the car ride, the questions, and the hurt look that appeared when he asked, “Why are you so against being around me, Jaime?”
But the fear of getting hurt by Brian quickly swept away those first thoughts. After the break-up Jaime made sure her heart was protected. She had gone through so many tissues, boxes of chocolates and black-and-white movies before she went through the process of keeping her heart safe from any one that could possibly steal it. If Jaime let Brian into her life now, there was a huge possibility that all of her hard work could go to waste.
Like she always told herself plenty of times before—she wasn't going down without a fight.
A loud, buzzing sound broke Jaime out of her small trance. Glancing down, she saw her phone light up with her best friend's picture. Grinning, she answered, knowing very well what the call was going to be about.
"Hi, Macy," Jaime sounded smug and amused.
Macy, however, didn't find this situation amusing. "Why didn't you call me right away? You should have called me!"
Jaime's tongue practically had sarcasm dripping off it when she spoke. "It was a very dramatic experience, Macy! I had to cope first."
On the other line, her best friend scoffed. "Whatever. You still should have called me sooner. Everyone is talking about Brian being in town again, and how he saw you and offered you a ride home. I didn't think I would have to find out from Chelsea."
Chelsea. The queen of gossip. The woman in Macy and Jaime's class that knew anything and everything about everyone in their graduating class. She was the person who told Jaime that Brian was studying in Australia. It figures that she would be one of the first to know that Brian was in town and the earlier confrontation between Jaime and her ex.
Jaime groaned. "Brian, I understand. He was really popular in high school. Me, on the other hand... Not so much."
"Shut up, and quit being ridiculous. Anyway, the reason I called is because I wanted you to come over after dinner. We can hang and stuff."
"That just means you're going to be looking at that band again and I'll be asking nonstop questions about them, doesn't it?"
Hearing Macy's laughter was enough to give Jaime the answer she needed. Of course they would be looking at that band again. It was Macy's favorite—and still, Jaime could never remember the name. Even if Macy drilled it into her a thousand other times.
"Fine. I'll be over around seven." Macy and Jaime bid each other a farewell before hanging up the phone and returning to their previous activities.
"Mom," Jaime called out, hours later. "Can I borrow your car?"
Jaime peeked her head into the kitchen, holding onto the wall as she watched her mother wash the dinner dishes. Theresa swiveled around, her hands covered in soap suds.
"Where are you planning to go?" she asked.
"Macy's. She wants to hang out for a while."
"Fine. Just bring the car back in one piece before midnight."
Rolling her eyes, Jaime rushed forward to kiss her mother on the cheek before snatching the car keys on the counter. She mumbled out a thank you as she reached for the door. Throwing her cheap, leather jacket on, Jaime slipped her feet into the winter boots she kept by the door. The boots and jacket were nothing stylish, just something to keep her warm in the winter months.
Yelling out a strangled goodbye, Jaime whipped open the door and was greeted by the chilly, December air. She tugged the jacket shut, folding her arms in as she hurried towards the silver, 2011 Honda Accord.
Moving as fast as she could, Jaime unlocked the driver door. The freezing air nipped at her bare hands while she fumbled with the key, trying to insert it into the car lock. She successfully unlocked the door, opening it moments later.
As quick as she could, she slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut to shield herself from the cold. Unfortunately, the inside of the car was nearly just as freezing and Jaime was desperate to be warm—even if the drive to Macy's was just five minutes away.
Heat was blasting into the car once Jaime stuck the key into the ignition and turned the car on. It took her a minute to actually pull out of the driveway, her fingers nearly frozen to the steering wheel. As she drove towards her best friend's house, the heater worked well enough to thaw her body completely by the time she parked the car in front of the one-story, two-bedroom house Macy recently acquired with her long-term boyfriend, Seth.
Thirty seconds—that's all it takes to get out of the car and run to Macy's front door. Thirty seconds. You can do it.
Inhaling, Jaime gathered all the courage needed to step out into the blistering cold once again. Once she pushed the door open, the cold December air hit her like a brick. All of her precautions-- zipping up her jacket tightly, putting on the thick gloves of hers, even putting on a knit hat sitting in the passenger seat—was gone to waste. It was still too cold out.
Jaime's legs moved fast, making their way to the front door. Twice, she nearly slipped on black ice and almost landed on her rear. Fortunately she just happened to catch her footing on time. When Jaime was safely on the porch of her best friend's house, she knocked on the door sharply.
"Come in, Jaime!" she heard from the other side of the door. Macy.
Jaime didn't hesitant in stepping inside. The warm air enveloped her as she stepped inside, fanning her face softly. She welcomed it as she slid her jacket off her shoulders, kicking her boots off while using the heel of her foot. Draping her jacket on the arm of the cream couch, she spotted her best friend shoveling down a bowl of cereal.
Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Cereal?”
Macy glared. “Shut up, I was too lazy to cook. And Seth can't cook worth a damn.”
Laughing, Jaime joined her friend at the table. It didn't take long for Macy to finish her so-called 'dinner'. Shortly after Macy set the bowl into the sink, they went to Macy's room where they mostly hung out.
The walls—unlike how she used to have her old room at her parents' house—wasn't dressed with posters. There was a few portraits and pictures that hung up, but nothing more. Macy's posters were probably sitting in a box underneath her bed. Once Seth and Macy moved in together, Seth had made it pretty clear their bedroom wouldn't have any posters of any of her bands and favorite musicians. It made Jaime laugh at the time, because Macy's posters were everything to her. Pulling one down meant having a sharp slap to your wrist.
There was a queen-sized bed with dark bedding sitting in front of a window, the curtains hidden behind the headboard, and a nightstand with a lamp just off to the side. A dresser in the corner of the room, a walk-in closet in the other side of the room, and a shelf holding CD's, movies, and books—that was Macy and Seth's room in a nutshell.
Jaime plopped down on the bed while Macy reached underneath the corner of the bed, pulling out a silver laptop with stickers over the cover. Jaime chuckled. The laptop was covered in those stickers of the band that her friend loved so much.
As Macy booted the laptop up, Jaime couldn't help but ask, “I'm sorry, but what was the band's name again?”
She heard her friend groan while answering. “One Direction. Say it with me. Wun-der-ec-shun. One Direction. Got it now?”
Jaime rolled her eyes. “I'm not two years old, you know.”
“Then, why can't you remember the band name?”
“'Cause I don't grill it into my brain, that's why.”
“Do it now, because next time you ask me that, I won't answer.”
Macy's tone was light, but Jaime could tell that her friend was tired of her not remembering her favorite band's name. There was only so much she could take, and she was pushing that limit pretty fast. Before she could forget, Jaime repeated the name five times in her head to make sure she wouldn't forget.
One Direction. One Direction. One Direction. One Direction. One Direction.
After thinking it one more time for good measure, she was nearly positive she wouldn't forget the band's name. Jaime peered over her best friend's shoulder, watching as she clicked a news article with a headline that caught her eye.
LOUIS TOMLINSON GETS 'UNHEALTHY' DINNER FROM FAST-FOOD RESTAURANT
Hearing her friend scoff beside her, she read over Macy's shoulder, too interested in what this article had to say.
Louis Tomlinson made a public appearance last night after a week of not showing his face in public. Could it be because of his break-up with Lindsey Thomas, model extraordinaire? We aren't sure! He was spotted carrying three bags of fast-food, and we're wondering—is that all for you, Tommo? You may not have noticed, but that's quite a bit of food you have there! Don't let it all go to waste.
After reading the somewhat ridiculous article, Jaime listened to her friend rant on, and on about how stupid the media were getting.
“They're just asking for attention! I mean, come on. I can write a better article then they can, and I failed English class horrendously. If you write an article as stupid as that, the least they can do is make it seem interesting and bull-shit a little. Seriously, the shit they're writing now is pathetic. I'm going to complain to them. What do you say, Jaime?”
Jaime wasn't entirely listening to her friend. Her eyes were completely focused on the image attached to the article. It was blurry and hardly focused, but it was enough to see a guy with chestnut hair that was half-hidden in a beanie. The guy wore a maroon sweatshirt, zipped up half-way, and a pair of light jeans with what looked like to be a pair of gray TOMS. From what Jaime could see in the picture, he didn't look half-bad. Cute, even.
Ignoring Macy's rant, she turned to her best friend. “Do you mind pulling up a picture of him?” she pointed out the guy in the picture.
“What—Louis Tomlinson?” Macy glanced at the picture and then at her best friend in bewilderment.
She nodded her head enthusiastically. Was that his name? Even though Jaime read the article, she couldn't be sure that the guy in the picture was Louis until her best friend just confirmed it for her.
His name suited his appearance, Jaime mused.
While Macy's fingers danced across the keys, Jaime waited patiently for a picture to load on the screen. She watched as the screen changed to loads of different pictures. Her eyes flitted across each picture, trying to get a good look at the man in each of them, but it was useless—she couldn't get close enough.
Then a picture loaded onto the screen, and Jaime had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from making any sort of noise. There was a picture of a young, handsome man with sculpted, thin features. His dark, tousled hair hung just slightly in his blue eyes (Jaime thought they were dark blue, but that could have been due to the lighting when the picture was taken) as he smiled off into a direction that was probably behind the camera. That smile—God, that smile—did things to Jaime's heart that she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Her heart stumbled upon it's steady pattern. She felt the beating stagger in her ears, loud enough she thought Macy might have heard it.
Macy, though, wasn't paying any attention to Jaime or the picture she pulled up. She was busy texting away on her phone, probably to one of her other many friends. With her friend's eyes glued to the device in her hands, Jaime took that moment to compose herself.
She shook her head, willing all thoughts about the band member, Louis Tomlinson, to go away. While Jaime's cheeks were tainted a light shade of pink, she didn't think Macy would notice it.
“What do you think?”
“He's... cute,” Jaime chose her words carefully.
Louis was cute, but that didn't even cover it. He was also handsome, dashing in that suite he wore in the picture, and just overall attractive. Not to mention his smile left her heart beating too fast for her liking.
Just before Macy responded, there was a shout from another room. “Macy! Babe, come help me. I got stuck again!”
Seth.
Both girls rolled their eyes at the twenty-three year old man as Macy got up to help Seth out. There was a couple shouts which Jaime couldn't help but laugh at. Seth may have been twenty-three, but he was simply an overgrown baby who needed a woman at his side, otherwise he'd fail in most things in life.
After a couple minutes of an argument brewing between Macy and Seth, Jaime's phone vibrated beside her.
Your dad is stuck in wrapping paper. Come help, I'm cleaning. - Mom
Jaime laughed loudly. Of course, when it came to her father, he was never an artistic one. Not being artistic meant staying away from all and any art projects, not wrapping presents, and cooking. Oh, her father was a horrid cook, even through the cooking lessons he'd been given as a present one year. It might have been possible that Anthony could never cook in his life—ever.
Jaime walked down the hall to the closed bathroom door. She knocked three times before she said, “Macy, I'm going to head out now. My dad's buried himself with the wrapping paper. He needs help. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”
There was a strangled, “yeah, sure!” before Jaime headed back out into the dark, chilly night.
“Hi, Mom,” Jaime greeted her mother as she stepped inside from the cold. Quickly she slid off her snow-covered boots and leather jacket, putting them both in their correct spots. Then, she flitted to the kitchen to kiss her mother on the cheek.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Theresa replied as she dipped her hands into a sink of scalding water. “How was Macy's?”
“Good,” Jaime replied automatically, eying the bucket of cookies not too far from her. “Can I have a cookie, please?”
“Sure,” her mother allowed. “But go help your father! He's in the living room, still trapped.”
After snatching a cookie from the bucket on the counter, Jaime skipped off to the living room where her father was. When she walked into the room, munching on the cookie, she couldn't help but chuckle. His lap was nearly covered in wrapping paper, pieces of tape had been sporadically placed over his face and arms, and a shining red bow had been placed at the top of his head.
Grinning, Jaime sat down on the floor across her father and began to help dig him out of the heaping pile of presents, tape and wrapping paper. They worked together to silently clean up the mess he created.
“What were you even trying to do, Dad—create yourself a mountain?” Jaime teased as she plucked the bow off her father's head.
“I was wrapping your grandfather's new car starter,” Anthony grumbled in annoyance.
“We can all see that went well,” Jaime chuckled as she took the gift into her hands. Luckily he hadn't damaged the box too bad. It could still be wrapped in great condition.
Jaime chose dark red wrapping paper with dancing reindeer to wrap the present along with a sparkling bow to top it. As she laid the paper out, Anthony mumbled out a small “thanks” and watched his daughter fix the gift he tried so desperately to wrap.
Not taking her eyes off the present, Jaime teased her father lightly. “You know, you were never good with wrapping paper. You always had Mom wrap them.”
Anthony's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How did you know-”
“My eighth Christmas, I peeked down from the stairs and saw you and Mom wrapping presents. I heard you talking about which ones were from Santa. Putting two and two together was easy.” Jaime sent her father a sly smile.
She heard her father cuss silently while a regretful smile appeared. “Well, that's a shame. We spent nine years making sure you received gifts from Santa.”
The two spent the next few minutes in silence as Jaime finished wrapping her grandfather's gift they bought him months ago. Just as she placed the silver bow on the correctly-wrapped gift, her mother walked into the living room.
“All right—dishes are done, counters are cleaned and the floors are swept,” Theresa announced. “Now, how about we watch a few movies?”
Jaime often remembered watching movies around Christmas time. It was tradition that they watched nothing but Christmas movies a few days before the magical day, and a chosen drama movie the day of—most of the time it being Passion of the Christ.
Agreeing, Jaime settled into one of the armchairs, leaving the loveseat to her parents.
Later on that night, Jaime had decided she wanted some fresh air. Being cooped in the house most of the day, the idea of feeling the chilly, night air surround her felt comforting. Strapping on her boots and her leather jacket she bought earlier in October, she stepped out into the cold. Digging her hands into her pockets, she let out a breath and watched as the breath became visible, turning to mist.
Jaime enlightened herself and blew a few more breaths out, watching as the frigid cold made it look like cigarette smoke. Her eyes traveled up into the sky and was surprised to see that it wasn't clouded. It was clear, letting all the white-glowing stars light up the black sky.
As she stared up into the night sky, she couldn't help but remember the picture of Louis Tomlinson and her reaction. Was it hard to believe she'd felt so attracted towards the musician? Just the thought of him sent warmth to her cheeks. Jaime kicked the snow hard, suddenly wishing that she had someone like him during the holidays. Maybe she wouldn't be so lonely anymore.
Maybe if she had someone like Louis Tomlison, she wouldn't feel so alone this year. Jaime bet that Louis looked like the type of person who was happy a majority of the time—bubbly, generous, always looking out for others. She could tell by the smile on his face and the crinkles by his eyes that he was a happy person.
For a fleeting second, Jaime decided to make a wish on a star. Thousands of times before she'd done it and there was no harm in making another wish on the eve of Christmas Eve.
“I wish to have someone at my side this Christmas, someone to make me happier and to open my eyes to better and newer things,” her gaze at the star-lit sky never broke once as she made the fated, somewhat ridiculous wish.
As the words finished spilling out of her mouth, the image of Louis popped in her mind.
Someone like Louis Tomlinson...
The chilly wind blew on her cheek, causing a shiver to ripple through her body. Giving a fleeting glance up at the night sky, she hurried back inside before the winter air could give her frostbite.
I'm sorry this chapter is so long, really. That's why it took me forever and a half to get this chapter to you. I've been slaving over it nonstop, making sure it's perfect and the way I wanted it to be. Looking at it now, it's never looked better. Soo, I'm proud to present you the first chapter of the new and improved, "The Louis Tomlinson Replica."
If you don't mind commenting some feedback, that would be wonderful. Any mistakes I might have missed, suggestions, etc. All welcome.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
- Cheyanne x
PS: Any mention of 'epilepsy' and Jaime's 'fear of heartbreak' further on means that it's not edited or I forgot to cut it out.