Anonymous

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumbled to myself as I hurried through the kitchen to get to the front door to quiet the incessant knocks coming from the other side. It was incredibly irritating, and whoever was knocking clearly needed to get into my house.

I unlocked the doorknob and pulled open the door to see someone standing there that I never figured would come to my house. “Um…Harry?” I questioned, my eyebrows drawing together. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s your sister?” he demanded, brushing by me to force his way into the house. I expected Louis to follow with an apologetic look or something, but the blue-eyed boy was nowhere to be found. “I need to talk to her.”

“She’s down in the basement,” I explained shortly before Harry stalked off in search of the door. “Why did you come here to see my sister?”

“Because,” was his highly intelligent response. I waited for a couple seconds after the word to see if he added anything to it, but he didn’t. I just had to deal with a one-word answer that didn’t really clear anything up.

He hurried down the stairs, sending the old wood shrieking in agony, and jumped down the last two steps. And just like in a cheesy movie, he pointed at my sister and demanded, “You!”

Maria turned around and glared at him. “What the hell, Jess? Did you have Skype sex with everyone in One Direction?”

“What?” I flushed violently. “No! I didn’t have Skype sex with anyone. Shut up, Maria.”

Harry ignored the conversation altogether, his eyes narrowed at my sister. “You’re the one that’s been giving me so much trouble.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you before in my life. How could I have been giving you trouble?”

“Remember that guy you were playing for days straight, that you kept whooping his ass at Distant Enemies?”

I started to snicker under my breath, realizing with Harry meant, but Maria wasn’t as sensitive to his feelings. She burst out in a wicked cackle, throwing her head back before saying, “Oh my God, that was you? I figured it was a girl because you were so freaking bad.”

“And I figured you were a guy,” Harry argued. And then, in one swift movement, he hopped over the back of the couch and took a controller in his hand. “C’mon, rematch.”

“I’m in the middle of something, Nipple Boy.”

I snorted with laughter, my hand snapping to my face to try to stifle the sound, but it didn’t matter. Harry didn’t notice. He was too busy staring down the twelve-year-old next to him.

“I don’t care,” he replied harshly. “Shut down your game, start up Distant Enemies, go onto multiplayer mode, and I’ll show you who’s boss.”

“No.”

“C’mon, this is a challenge,” Harry snapped. “You’re supposed to accept.”

“Playing you isn’t a challenge,” Maria snickered. “And I’m in the middle of something else. Just because you’re filthy stinkin’ rich doesn’t mean I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you want it.”

“Is that a cue that you want me to pay you? Because I’ll do it, if that’s what it takes for you to play me again.”

“What are you even trying to prove?” I butted in curiously, my arms crossed in front of my chest. “You already know that she’s better than you. She blew you up a million bloody times in a matter of a couple days. You know she’s better than you.”

“Then she should have no problem playing me, right?”

“If I play you, will you go away?”

“Maybe.”

“Then fine.” She lifted herself off the couch and went over to the game console, changing out the game in the player in exchange for the game Harry desired.

While she was absorbed in her task, I nodded toward Harry and asked, “Where’s Louis?”

He cleared his throat and explained in a voice faster than I’d ever heard him use, “He said that he refused to come watch me struggle to redeem my honor as a man by battling a little girl.”

“I’m not little,” Maria argued with a huff as she collapsed back onto the couch. “Now are you going to talk to my sister, or are you going to play?”

He raised his eyebrows at her, smirking a little, before saying, “I’m definitely going to play.”

“And I’m definitely not watching this,” I groaned, turning for the stairs and darting up to the first floor.

As I crawled onto the couch, curling my legs underneath me, pulling up my web browser so I could go through my daily run of websites. The writersunite website was already half-typed into the top search bar before a headline on my news homepage caught my eye.

Louis Tomlinson with a New...Friend?

And under it was the picture of us leaving the airport, his bag getting pulled behind him, his sunglasses perched on his nose, while I walked beside with a rolled up magazine. Although the picture was taken while I’d been mid-word, I didn’t look that bad. Of course, Louis looked like a male model, but at least I didn’t look like a trainwreck.

My curiosity took hold of me as I clicked on the link. The article was quite short, just saying that the two of us were spotted at the airport together, looking cozy, and though they had no pictures, sources said they saw us “in a steamy lip-lock straight out of The Notebook.” Which seemed far more dramatic than the truth, but whatever.

I scrolled down further, expecting more article, since it had only been a few sentences, but instead, I saw comments. Lots of comments.

Lol THIS is the girl that Louis’ after now? Looks like SOMEONE’S desperate after a rough breakup with Eleanor…

Talk about a step down! Hahahahaha. Poor guy. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have sex with THAT.

Can someone hear the whales cheering that one of their own is finally in the spotlight?

I tried to brush off the comments, but they kind of hurt a deep part of me. I knew that I liked the way I looked, that people were just rude and insensitive and closed-minded, but that didn’t necessarily help.

And then, at the top, there was someone who commented from their Facebook account, rightfully named Angel: You guys all make me fucking sick. This girl is absolutely BEAUTIFUL, and the fact that you’re all making fun of her is disgusting to me. And even if she looked like a truck, if she made Louis happy, then we should all support them, anyway. That’s what a real fan DOES. But anyway, I think she’s gorgeous, and I hope that she and Louis have a wonderful relationship with each other, whether it’s a romantic one, or they’re just friends.

After reading that little paragraph, I closed out of the window, not wanting to spoil the good vibes that were flowing through my body. It only took those few kind words to cancel out all the negative energy that people were trying to send, and I couldn’t keep myself from grinning like a maniac.

“UGH,” I heard a deep male voice scream loudly. “FUCK.”

“Harry,” I scolded under my breath as I closed my laptop and put it down on the couch next to me bottom-up so the fan didn’t get stifled.

I hurried down the stairs to find Harry pouting while Maria celebrated, shouting all sorts of hideous things at Harry. Clearly, the older boy had lost. Again.

“Do you need ice cream, Harry?” I laughed, patting the fluffy couch cushion behind his head. “Will it soften the failure?”

“No,” he grumbled. “It was one thing, losing to a twelve-year-old girl over the internet. But sitting in the same room as one and getting whopped like that is just…”

“Embarrassing?” Maria offered helpfully. “Pathetic? Laughable?”

“Thank you, little bitch,” Harry replied bitingly. “And yeah, Jess, I’d love ice cream, thanks.”

“Me, too!” Maria demanded. “Want to play again? Maybe I’ll let you win this time.”

“No, you won’t. You’re just going to pretend to let me win, and then you’re going to slice me in half or blow me up with a grenade.”

“What makes you think I’d do that?”

Harry’s face turned bright red as he yelled, “BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT YOU DID THE SECOND, THIRD, AND FOURTH REMATCH.”

“But maybe I’ll really let you win this time.”

“Oh, lord,” I grumbled, rushing away from the scene of the fight to get their desired bowls of ice cream. Maybe the sugar and happiness would erase the tension.

But then again, probably not.