Camera Shy (Louis Tomlinson) Book 5

Chapter 46

Lauren’s POV

“You’re actually staying with him?” Logan asks with shock.

“We’re trying to work it out,” I repeat with a sigh, pinning the phone between my ear and my shoulder so I could pack while we talked.

“He beat the shit out of me”

“Don’t be dramatic. He got two shots. He’s sorry. It was just an overreaction.” I say, folding a pair of jeans and placing them in the bag.

“I can’t believe you’re actually staying with him,” he mutters. I roll my eyes but don’t say anything.

“Look, I’ve got to go and finish packing. I’ll talk to you later” I say with a frown, hanging up before he could respond. I was tired of hearing how I should break up with Louis. Everyone was telling me that. Apparently we were too hot-tempered for each other. Frankly, they weren’t wrong. But that’s why we were going to try therapy. To see if we could learn to control it. Hunter seemed to be the only one who understood. He joked that he’d never seen anyone who fit so well with ‘I Want Crazy’ before. Of course, I think part of the reason he was so ok with us being together, was because he was the one to set it up in the first place. He didn’t want to admit failure.

When I arrive in London, Louis is waiting at the gate. He tries to take my hand when I get over, but I pull it out of his grasp. I was still mad at him. I’d told him as much. His smile falters, but he doesn’t say anything, instead just taking my bag as we walk out.

“When?” I ask shortly when we get to his car. He’d know what I was talking about.

“Tomorrow afternoon” He’s silent for a couple more seconds before adding “I’m glad you’re here.” His voice sounds so timid and when I look up at him, he looks almost nervous. Like he’s unsure of how I’d react. I reach out, taking his hand and intertwining our fingers, giving his hand a small squeeze of reassurance. Sure I was mad at him, but I still loved him. We’d work through this.

I make us some grilled cheese sandwiches when we get back to his place for dinner. It’s pretty much the only food he had. I guess we’d have to go shopping soon. Sometimes I wondered how he survived without someone here to feed him. If the Nandos bags in the trash were anything to go on, I’d guess a lot of fast food.

After dinner, I take my bag upstairs to unpack. With each visit here, I’d end up bringing a few extra things to leave here. It had been my goal to have enough clothes here so I wouldn’t have to take a bag back and forth. It had never struck me what would happen if we broke up, although now it did. I wonder what he’d do with my things if we broke up. Would he get rid of it or would he put it into storage until I had a chance to collect everything? I push the thought aside for now. We’d cross that bridge when we got to it. When I’m done unpacking, I change into some pajamas and grab my book, lying across the bed. I could vaguely hear the sound of gunshots telling me Louis was watching some movie downstairs, but I really wasn’t in the mood. It was a weird feeling, being angry with him. Normally our fights were over small insignificant things, which resulted in quick fights and quick makeups. The makeups were my favorite part. Tonight though felt different. It didn’t seem like there’d be an easy makeup this time.

After a while, I hear the TV shut off and I quickly shut my book and turn off the lights, pretending I’m asleep as I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The door opens and I hold as still as possible as I hear him walk over. I hear the sound of shedding clothes before a rustle of the bedspread and a dip in the mattress tells me he’s gotten into bed. Normally he’d wrap his arms around me and I’d use him as a pillow, but tonight he stayed on his own side. It was almost painful that we were so close, and yet so far. There were only a few inches, but it very well could have been a two-foot concrete wall. Eventually, I hear his breathing slow as he falls asleep. I roll over so I’m facing his back, reaching out carefully to touch the hair at the nape of his neck. He shifts slightly and I quickly pull my hand back in fear that he was going to wake up, but I needn’t worry. He just rolls over so he’s lying on his stomach, his head resting on crossed arms. I inch closer until I can feel his soft breath on my face. He was so different when he was asleep. The stress lines were gone. He wasn’t bouncing with energy. I didn’t want to be cliché and say he looked vulnerable or childish like so many do when they see their sleeping boyfriend or girlfriend. If anything, I’d say he looked existential. Like nothing could touch him. I slowly reach out, beginning to slip his arm out from under him, keeping a careful eye to see if he was beginning to wake. I shouldn’t have bothered though. That boy could sleep through a tornado.  I move his arm out until I have enough room to slip underneath it, cuddling close to him. With his warm breath on my cheek and his arm over my shoulders, I’m finally able to drift off to sleep.