Anonymous

I stared down at her, completely confused. Had she just said…okay? Not I love you, too, or me, too, or ditto. Okay?

I slid her underwear back into their proper place and sat up, clasping my hands in my lap like a guilty, embarrassed child. “Wait, do you not feel the same way about me?”

Jess sighed and shifted backward so she was in a seated position, her back up against my headboard. “Look, Louis, I really care for you, but…I don’t know if what I feel is love. I’ve never done this before. And I think that if I’m not sure, then I don’t feel that way.”

She was right, of course. If she wasn’t sure she was in love with me, then she wasn’t. And I wasted all my time for nothing. There was no way I was going to be able to take her now, knowing that she was acting on lust, while I was acting on love.

I ran a hand through my disastrous hair as I got to my feet and started to put all my clothes back on, not daring to look at her. I felt so broken and empty inside, not to mention mortified that I laid all my feelings on the line for her to laugh at.

“Louis, don’t do that,” Jess pleaded from the bed, which creaked as she got to her feet and came over to me. Her soft fingers eased my chin over to her, making me look into her sweet-looking face. I just had to make sure that my gaze actually stayed locked on those dark eyes instead of roaming southward, since she was still virtually unclothed. “We don’t have to stop, just because I don’t feel the same way. What, did you want me to lie to you? I couldn’t do that.”

“Not necessarily,” I grumbled, taking a deep breath. “I just figured you feel the same way.”

“That doesn’t mean I never will,” she whispered, running her thumb along my jaw before going up on her tip-toes to kiss me softly.

I was so caught up in the feeling of her body against mine that I almost gave in. Why not? I’d had a fling or two before, where there was absolutely no love involved whatsoever.

But those were so different. With Jess, I got to know her, I spent time with her, I built up the anticipation for that moment. And it was all torn down.

“I can’t,” I responded, easing her away from me, pretending not to notice how soft and warm the skin of her stomach was. “I can’t do this, knowing that something that’s massively important to me is just a little fuck session for you.”

Okay, so I didn’t mean that. I couldn’t believe it slipped out of my mouth. I knew she wasn’t completely heartless, that she did have some feelings for me, even if they weren’t as strong as mine.

But it was too late to take them back. Jess took four steps back, her eyes filled with distress, disgust, and tears as she wandered around me to pick up her clothes. “You’re such a prick,” Jess snapped as she yanked her jeans back onto her legs, buttoning them harshly. “This was not a fuck session for me. I do really care about you, and if you really loved me, you’d understand that it’s going to take me longer.”

“Jess, I-” Shit. I’d just made a mess of everything.

“Save it. After all, if you think you’re so disposable to me, then I don’t want an explanation anyway, do I?” She finally got the back of her bra clasped, her back turned to me, and let out an irritated huff. Without another word, she stormed into the kitchen, her eyes not flicking over to me once as she went.

“Jess, just listen to me.”

“I think you’ve said enough tonight.” Once her upper body was clothed, she ripped her purse off the table and threw it onto her shoulder. “Have a nice fucking life, arsehole.”

And with that, she was gone, slamming the door behind her with all her might, the sound echoing throughout the now nearly vacant flat.

What had started out as a small hiccup, an unforeseen conflict, had turned into a full-blown argument that could potentially destroy our relationship forever.



“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Harry sighed, looking at me with an expression full of pity, while the rest of the boys shifted in their seats in preparation for the big reveal. We were all dressed up in suits, our hair styled to red-carpet perfection, on our way to an awards show after party, although we hadn’t been nominated for any of the categories. Normally, we wouldn’t have bothered to go, since it wasn’t about us, but several of the celebrities who were called and asked if we could because they thought we were just too much fun to exclude.

Wait until they saw the horrendous state I was in.

“Yeah, mate, you’ve been moping for days now,” Liam piped up. “And you gotta cheer up, yeah? We’re on our way to a huge party. That’s always your favorite thing.”

“I’m just not in the mood,” I grumbled. “And I don’t really want to talk about it.”

I just couldn’t be sure what they’d do. On one hand, they might sympathize and understand where I was coming from and try to help me feel better. Not that it would actually work, but it was the effort that counted. But it was almost equally as likely that they’d not comprehend how miserable I actually was, and they’d laugh and tease me for what had happened and that I didn’t get any sex.

“If you’re not going to talk about it, then at least paste a smile on your face,” Zayn directed in the kindest voice possible. “You don’t want to be all over the tabloids about how miserable you are, you know? They’ll make up crazy rumors like Jess died or something.”

Her name made my stomach pang, but Zayn had a point. As members of One Direction, we had an image to upkeep. We couldn’t go around sulking. Not the partying boys from the UK and Ireland who were always up for a good laugh and a lot of drinking.

Maybe that was what I needed. A couple of drinks. Then I’d loosen up and forget about Jess. That was all.

The limo pulled to a stop in front of the venue, and our door was opened. Niall stepped out first, making a show of adjusting his jacket in a goofy way as the cameras started flashing.

I went out last, trying not to be blinded by the strobe-light effect happening around me. I smiled in a couple different directions, walking behind the boys, stopping every now and then to sign a fast autograph or take a rushed picture with a fan. All the while, I was sweet and endearing, that fake smile making my cheeks ache, probably to show that I was forcing it a little too much. But I couldn’t be too careful. I had to make sure no one noticed.

Once we were inside, I let out a breath and clapped a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “Making it work, yeah?”

“Good job,” he complimented, grinning at me. “Now let’s get some alcohol in you. Then you’ll really be happy.”

I snickered and nodded, knowing that his words held nothing but truth. Some champagne and wine could make all the difference in the world.