One Chance
Summary
His chocolate brown eyes sent shivers down my spine as they stared into my soul, reading my every heartbeat, every breath. His dark brown curls almost covered his right eye, teasing my urge to play with them. His brilliant, perfect smile with gleaming teeth and perfect dimples made me tremble every time he flashed it to me. Oh, how I loved to make him smile.
He was leaning closer to me every second and my heart raced with anticipation. His breath tickled my face, his just inches from mine, never breaking eye contact. My breath hitched in my throat and he leaned past my face, his lips grazing my earlobe.
“I love you Louis,” he whispered softly and pushed me back against the couch, his face now centimeters from mine. He stared into my eyes for a millisecond and I began to lean in, wanting, or rather needing to feel his lips on mine. Those perfectly pink, full and sculpted lips so tempting, and I had gone too long without the feel of them.
He leaned in and our noses touched, each waiting for one of us to make the first move.
“I love you Harry Styles.”
My eyes snapped open, my heart racing, my breath heavy. What was wrong with me? I stared at the white ceiling, waiting for my breath to calm. This reoccurring dream was too much. It all felt so real, so vivid. It felt so right, so perfect. I wanted it to be reality more than anything. But why was it happening to me? It was so wrong. Harry and I are just mates, nothing more. Best mates, even. I wasn’t allowed to feel this way towards him. What am I talking about? I don’t feel any way towards him. I can’t. I won’t.
I sighed and sat up on my bed, rubbing my eyes sleepily. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It read 12:30. I swung my legs over my bed and stood up. I strode to the door and opened it, stepping outside into the hallway and down the stairs. I peered over the railing, seeing Harry asleep on the couch in the living room. I grinned. Looks like he didn’t make it to bed after the movie last night.
My smile faltered. A couple months ago, I would have tried to prank him while he was sleeping. Would’ve taped it too and posted it on You Tube. But I can’t draw attention to us. If anyone found out about my feelings for him, there would be no albums bought, no concerts sold out, no interviews, and worst of all, my friendship between Harry and I would be ruined.
Of course, the fans have already started suspecting something. “Larry Stylinson” seemed to be pretty popular amongst them. They’ve noticed the way I mess around with Harry, the way I touch his shoulder when he says something funny, how I try to suppress a smile every time he speaks.
I pushed the thought out of my mind and made my way to the kitchen, searching for something quick to eat. Niall had already beat me to it.
He was sitting at the long table with a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup and powdered sugar, French toast coated in butter, ten pieces of bacon, a plate of scrambled eggs, sausages, and buttered toast. He didn’t seem to notice me, as he was gobbling on a pancake with his bare hands.
“BOO!” I yelled, grinning. The pancake went flying across the room, missing my head by inches. I doubled over in laughter, pleased with myself.
“It’s not funny! That was a perfectly good pancake that you ruined!” Niall complained.
“You won’t go hungry without it, that’s for sure!” I said laughing. A piece of sausage came sailing at my head but I ducked, making my laughter multiply. I leaned forward and quickly snatched a piece of French toast from a plate and danced away.
“AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Niall yelled at me.
“Just taking a bit of breakfast before it all gets on the floor!” I said merrily, taking a bite out of it..
“You’re picking it up, Louis!” Niall persisted.
“I’M NOT YOUR SLAVE!” I exclaimed, beaming. I heard someone laughing and I glanced to my left. Harry had woken up and was smiling at me from the couch. I felt my face grow hot. Was I blushing? No, why would I?
“I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!” Zayn yelled from upstairs. Niall took another pancake, aiming at my face.
“ZAYN!” I screamed, dropping the French toast. I leapt out of the kitchen and onto the stairs. I stomped up the stairs, two at a time and kicked open the door, revealing a sleeping Zayn. I took a running leap onto his bed, crushing him.
“LOUIS! Get off of me!” Zayn protested.
“Shh!” I whispered. “He’ll hear you!” Soon enough, Niall came storming up the stairs, pancake in hand. I lay there, frozen in place.
“LOUIS ISN’T HERE!” I yelled. A pancake hit my head, dripping syrup all over my hair.
“Ha! Gotcha’!” Niall exclaimed, beaming. I didn’t move from my place until he left the room and went back downstairs to finish his breakfast.
“Do you think he saw me?” I whispered to Zayn, syrup dripping onto his sheets. He responded by pushing me off his bed and onto the floor.
“You got syrup on my bed!” He exclaimed angrily.
“My bad, mate,” I said, grinning. Liam entered the room, ruffled hair and all.
“What’s going on?” He asked, looking at the pancake and the syrup all over my hair and Zayn’s bed. He sighed.
“I’ll dump your sheets in the washer later on, Zayn. Tomlinson, go eat something.” Liam said, nodding to me. I stood and ran out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen. Harry was sitting at the table with Niall, laughing about something that he had said. Harry looked up at me, grinning.
“You have a little something on your hair, mate.” He said, grinning.
“Yeah,” I muttered, reaching over Harry’s head and grabbing a piece of toast. Harry reached up and wiped a bit of syrup from my forehead with his forefinger. He flashed me his perfect smile and licked his finger slowly, then sucking on it gently. I felt my face grow hot and I sat down on the other side of Niall instead of Harry.
I don’t want to reveal anything. I won’t. I took a bite of the piece of toast that I was holding and avoided Harry’s gaze.
“So what’s going on today? Don’t we have that interview on Ellen?” Niall asked. Harry nodded.
“Yeah, we have to be there by . . .” Harry paused. “Late,” he said with realization.
“What?” Niall asked incredulously.
“We’re late! We had to be there by eleven! It’s twelve thirty!” He said, jumping up from his seat. I did the same.
“I have to wash my hair!” I yelled, gesturing to the sticky mess on my head. “Thanks to Niall,” I muttered.
“YOU TOOK MY FOOD!” Niall screamed.
Liam stomped downstairs, a panicked look on his face. “LATE!” he yelled.
“MY HAIR!” I replied. I ran to the stairs and shoved Liam out of the way, taking the steps two at a time. I leapt into the bathroom, shoving Zayn out of the way.
“LOUIS!” He yelled.
“MY HAIR!” I screamed.
“LATE!” yelled Liam from downstairs. I turned the hot water on in the sink and bent my head down into the rushing water, letting it run the syrup out of my hair. I massaged it desperately, trying to urge it out of my scalp. I heard a chuckle and I looked to my right, where the sound came from. Harry leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest, one leg casually bent over the other.
“Need help?” he asked, flashing me his perfect smile.
“Please,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He smirked at me then uncrossed his arms and legs and walked over to me. He took a handful of water and pouring it over my hair. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the shower and took a bit into his right hand. He massaged it into my hair, his fingers moving in a perfect rhythm. Back and forth, back and forth. . .
“Mmm . . .” I murmured, my eyes fluttering closed. The fingers stopped moving, frozen in place. Oh god, why did I do that?
“I, um, should go get ready.” Harry said, releasing his grasp on my hair and stumbling out of the room. And just like that, our moment was over.
He was leaning closer to me every second and my heart raced with anticipation. His breath tickled my face, his just inches from mine, never breaking eye contact. My breath hitched in my throat and he leaned past my face, his lips grazing my earlobe.
“I love you Louis,” he whispered softly and pushed me back against the couch, his face now centimeters from mine. He stared into my eyes for a millisecond and I began to lean in, wanting, or rather needing to feel his lips on mine. Those perfectly pink, full and sculpted lips so tempting, and I had gone too long without the feel of them.
He leaned in and our noses touched, each waiting for one of us to make the first move.
“I love you Harry Styles.”
My eyes snapped open, my heart racing, my breath heavy. What was wrong with me? I stared at the white ceiling, waiting for my breath to calm. This reoccurring dream was too much. It all felt so real, so vivid. It felt so right, so perfect. I wanted it to be reality more than anything. But why was it happening to me? It was so wrong. Harry and I are just mates, nothing more. Best mates, even. I wasn’t allowed to feel this way towards him. What am I talking about? I don’t feel any way towards him. I can’t. I won’t.
I sighed and sat up on my bed, rubbing my eyes sleepily. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It read 12:30. I swung my legs over my bed and stood up. I strode to the door and opened it, stepping outside into the hallway and down the stairs. I peered over the railing, seeing Harry asleep on the couch in the living room. I grinned. Looks like he didn’t make it to bed after the movie last night.
My smile faltered. A couple months ago, I would have tried to prank him while he was sleeping. Would’ve taped it too and posted it on You Tube. But I can’t draw attention to us. If anyone found out about my feelings for him, there would be no albums bought, no concerts sold out, no interviews, and worst of all, my friendship between Harry and I would be ruined.
Of course, the fans have already started suspecting something. “Larry Stylinson” seemed to be pretty popular amongst them. They’ve noticed the way I mess around with Harry, the way I touch his shoulder when he says something funny, how I try to suppress a smile every time he speaks.
I pushed the thought out of my mind and made my way to the kitchen, searching for something quick to eat. Niall had already beat me to it.
He was sitting at the long table with a stack of pancakes drowning in syrup and powdered sugar, French toast coated in butter, ten pieces of bacon, a plate of scrambled eggs, sausages, and buttered toast. He didn’t seem to notice me, as he was gobbling on a pancake with his bare hands.
“BOO!” I yelled, grinning. The pancake went flying across the room, missing my head by inches. I doubled over in laughter, pleased with myself.
“It’s not funny! That was a perfectly good pancake that you ruined!” Niall complained.
“You won’t go hungry without it, that’s for sure!” I said laughing. A piece of sausage came sailing at my head but I ducked, making my laughter multiply. I leaned forward and quickly snatched a piece of French toast from a plate and danced away.
“AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Niall yelled at me.
“Just taking a bit of breakfast before it all gets on the floor!” I said merrily, taking a bite out of it..
“You’re picking it up, Louis!” Niall persisted.
“I’M NOT YOUR SLAVE!” I exclaimed, beaming. I heard someone laughing and I glanced to my left. Harry had woken up and was smiling at me from the couch. I felt my face grow hot. Was I blushing? No, why would I?
“I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!” Zayn yelled from upstairs. Niall took another pancake, aiming at my face.
“ZAYN!” I screamed, dropping the French toast. I leapt out of the kitchen and onto the stairs. I stomped up the stairs, two at a time and kicked open the door, revealing a sleeping Zayn. I took a running leap onto his bed, crushing him.
“LOUIS! Get off of me!” Zayn protested.
“Shh!” I whispered. “He’ll hear you!” Soon enough, Niall came storming up the stairs, pancake in hand. I lay there, frozen in place.
“LOUIS ISN’T HERE!” I yelled. A pancake hit my head, dripping syrup all over my hair.
“Ha! Gotcha’!” Niall exclaimed, beaming. I didn’t move from my place until he left the room and went back downstairs to finish his breakfast.
“Do you think he saw me?” I whispered to Zayn, syrup dripping onto his sheets. He responded by pushing me off his bed and onto the floor.
“You got syrup on my bed!” He exclaimed angrily.
“My bad, mate,” I said, grinning. Liam entered the room, ruffled hair and all.
“What’s going on?” He asked, looking at the pancake and the syrup all over my hair and Zayn’s bed. He sighed.
“I’ll dump your sheets in the washer later on, Zayn. Tomlinson, go eat something.” Liam said, nodding to me. I stood and ran out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen. Harry was sitting at the table with Niall, laughing about something that he had said. Harry looked up at me, grinning.
“You have a little something on your hair, mate.” He said, grinning.
“Yeah,” I muttered, reaching over Harry’s head and grabbing a piece of toast. Harry reached up and wiped a bit of syrup from my forehead with his forefinger. He flashed me his perfect smile and licked his finger slowly, then sucking on it gently. I felt my face grow hot and I sat down on the other side of Niall instead of Harry.
I don’t want to reveal anything. I won’t. I took a bite of the piece of toast that I was holding and avoided Harry’s gaze.
“So what’s going on today? Don’t we have that interview on Ellen?” Niall asked. Harry nodded.
“Yeah, we have to be there by . . .” Harry paused. “Late,” he said with realization.
“What?” Niall asked incredulously.
“We’re late! We had to be there by eleven! It’s twelve thirty!” He said, jumping up from his seat. I did the same.
“I have to wash my hair!” I yelled, gesturing to the sticky mess on my head. “Thanks to Niall,” I muttered.
“YOU TOOK MY FOOD!” Niall screamed.
Liam stomped downstairs, a panicked look on his face. “LATE!” he yelled.
“MY HAIR!” I replied. I ran to the stairs and shoved Liam out of the way, taking the steps two at a time. I leapt into the bathroom, shoving Zayn out of the way.
“LOUIS!” He yelled.
“MY HAIR!” I screamed.
“LATE!” yelled Liam from downstairs. I turned the hot water on in the sink and bent my head down into the rushing water, letting it run the syrup out of my hair. I massaged it desperately, trying to urge it out of my scalp. I heard a chuckle and I looked to my right, where the sound came from. Harry leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest, one leg casually bent over the other.
“Need help?” he asked, flashing me his perfect smile.
“Please,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He smirked at me then uncrossed his arms and legs and walked over to me. He took a handful of water and pouring it over my hair. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the shower and took a bit into his right hand. He massaged it into my hair, his fingers moving in a perfect rhythm. Back and forth, back and forth. . .
“Mmm . . .” I murmured, my eyes fluttering closed. The fingers stopped moving, frozen in place. Oh god, why did I do that?
“I, um, should go get ready.” Harry said, releasing his grasp on my hair and stumbling out of the room. And just like that, our moment was over.
8/30/13