Camera Shy (Louis Tomlinson) Book 5

Chapter 25

Louis' POV

The second we get home, she's out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. She marches into the house, storming up to her room. She hadn't so much as looked at me since we left Ed's house. I follow her up, wanting to explain myself. To try to apologize.

"What are you doing?" I ask as I see her tearing around the room, throwing her things into her suitcase.

"I'm leaving, what does it look like?" she snaps.

"No you're not," I say with a sigh as she zips up her suitcase.

"Move," she mutters, shoving past me, flying down the stairs. Before I'm even down the stairs, she's out the front door. I watch as she tosses her bag into the back seat of my car and climbs into the passenger seat of my car. I stand near the door, crossing my arms and looking at her raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not driving you," I tell her. Her eyes narrow and she finally climbs out of the car. Finally. We'll be able to talk.

"Fine. I'll just call a cab," she growls. Guess I spoke to soon.

"Do you have money to pay for one?" I ask skeptically. Not all cabs took credit cards, which I was pretty sure was all she had.

"Give me some," she says, holding out her hand.

"No," I say.

"Give me some money for a cab," she shouts in frustration.

"No," I repeat.

"Fine. I'll walk," she growls, grabbing her suitcase and jerking it forward as she storms off down the sidewalk.

"Hey Lauren?" I call after her. She whirls around on her heels to look at me as I gesture in the other direction.

"The airport is that way."

She glares at me, marching back towards me and starting in the direction I was pointing. With a sigh, I climb into the car and begin driving alongside her walking. There was no way I was going to let her just go off alone in a city she didn't know, let alone a different country.

"C'mon Lauren, just get in the car," I call out to her.

"Are you going to drive me to the airport?"

"No."

"Then no," she snaps.

"C'mon, just get in. Let me explain," I plead. She doesn't respond though and she continues walking for a good 2 hours. By this time, it had gotten dark, and I could tell she was getting tired.

"C'mon, lets go home," I tell her. "We've only gone 10 kilometers. There's another 40 or so to go." She comes to a stop and I realize I've finally gotten through to her. "Look" I tell her, climbing out of the car. "There's probably not even any more flights tonight. Just come home, we can talk, then tomorrow if you still want to leave, I'll take you."

"Fine," she mutters and I breathe a sigh of relief as she lets me take her suitcase from her and stick it in the backseat. It only takes 10 minutes to go the distance it took 2 hours to walk. Her anger seems to have faded from a red-hot anger to a cool indifference as she walks inside. I follow in after her, setting her suitcase by the door as she collapses on the couch, stripping off her shoes and rubbing her feet. They must hurt after her walk, I realize.

"Here," I say, walking back into the living room a couple minutes later with hot towels. "They'll make your legs feel better," I tell her as I begin to wrap them around her feet and calves. She lets out a sigh of relief and her eyes shut, her head falling back as I wrap them and set them gently down on the coffee table.