Chapter 8 : I like the rain.
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I like how you can smell a storm coming on, how it makes the air feel just a little bit different than usual. I like how the drops of water cling to the leaves and the grass like crystals sparkling in the early morning sunlight. I like how it makes everything feel fresher, livelier, crisper. But most of all, I like how it wakes me up so gently as it patters on the windowpanes, rattling them just slightly.
This morning, for example, the first thing that greets my ears is the soft sound of raindrops. It’s so relaxing and calming to listen to that I think I could lie here all day and not even care. The bed’s comfortable, the sound of the rain is soothing, and I’m nice and warm under the covers. Everything’s pretty much perfect.
The voice in my ear is so soft that I barely hear it, but it I think it might just be the best wake up greeting I’ve ever been given. Shivers run down my spine and a smile twitches across my lips, while beside me Louis busies himself with wrapping one hand around my waist and tugging me towards him.
“Hi,” I whisper. Two deep blue eyes stare back at me contentedly, all gorgeous and beautiful and so, so blue.
“Hi? All I get is hi?”
Laughter emanates from his chest and vibrates through the mattress, covering up the sound of the rain. It’s kind of nice when he laughs; he should do it more often. Laughing is good for people.
“So,” Louis murmurs, pulling me against his chest, “last night.”
“Last night was - uh -” A thousand different thoughts flicker through my head, ranging from somewhere between “a horrible, horrible mistake so please excuse me while I go die of shame” to “oh my God that was amazing where have you been all my life.” Yeah, not mentally freaking out at all over here. “- interesting.”
“Interesting? Oh, come on, Ava. Give me a bit more than interesting.”
I pull the duvet over my head and snuggle beneath it, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. Maybe if I try hard enough I’ll disappear and wake up in my own bed. Yeah. Uh-huh. This is totally all just a dream.
“Did you say this is a dream?” Louis inquires from somewhere above the covers. “I mean, I know I’m good, but -”
“Oh, shut up,” I mutter miserably. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. Damn kid’s too cocky for his own good sometimes. No wonder he was in Gryffindor.
“Ava, would you please come up from underneath there?”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Oh, really?” I ask sarcastically, throwing off the duvet and sitting upright. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, huh? How about the fact that I slept with you? Again?”
“Relax. It’s not your fault that I’m insanely attractive.”
“Oh my God, someone kill me,” I moan, burying my face in a pillow. “What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t even drunk, for God’s sake.”
“Oi, that’s offensive.”
I peek out at him from over the top of the pillow and find those stupid blue eyes staring back at me in amusement. His hair looks absolutely ridiculous, sticking up at odd angles and flopping into his face, although I’m sure he’s not very concerned with that at the moment.
“Just so you know, this doesn’t mean anything,” I mumble. “I still dislike you immensely.”
“No, you don’t,” he says with a roll of his eyes.
I frown and sit upright, glancing around for wherever my clothes may have landed last night. The little buggers always have had a knack for disappearing the morning after.
“Fine. I will grudgingly admit that I find your company to be more than bearable,” I respond dryly, still scanning the room thoroughly for any sign of female-ish garments.
“You like me. Just admit it.”
“I do not!” I protest. My nose wrinkles as if to prove my point, and I pull the covers around me a bit tighter. “You’re tolerable, that’s all.”
“Really? Because it seemed like you thought I was way more than tolerable last night.”
“Oh, shut up,” I mutter, avoiding his eyes. “Okay, I will admit that the sex was pretty good -”
“Pretty good? Pretty good? Ava, are you kidding me?”
“We are not talking about this!” I screech. “Not now, not ever. Yes, I know we sort of connected last night, but -”
“Woah, woah, woah. We connected? No. There was no connection last night. It was purely physical, nothing more.”
“Get over yourself,” I say, smacking him on the chest. “I know you don’t do the whole feelings thing, but something happened last night, and you know it.”
“Oh, okay. I see what’s going on here. You’re mistaking finally getting a good shag with making a connection. It happens sometimes.”
“What?” I ask in disbelief. He’s got to be kidding. Lord, please tell me he’s kidding.
“Yeah, you know. You’ve been deprived for so long - ow! Oi, stop it!” Louis exclaims, throwing up his arms in front of his face. I am, of course, whacking him with a pillow repeatedly, seeing as he’s behaving like a complete and total arse.
“I don’t even know why I bother trying to hold a real conversation with you. You never take anything seriously, you never listen to me, you never -”
You know, it’s pretty difficult to speak when somebody insists on putting his lips on yours. In fact, it’s kind of a major distraction, especially when said lips are very good at kissing.
What was I ranting about again?
“You talk way too much sometimes,” Louis murmurs as my eyelids flutter open. “Maybe we should work on that.”
“I - I - huh?”
I blink and glance down at my hands, which have knotted themselves into the sheets on the bed. They’re being all fidgety this morning. Fidgety. I’m not a fidgety person. This is wrong. My head’s all swirly and muddled and I’m not quite sure what’s going on.
“All right. You want to be serious, Ava?” he says, sliding off the bed. “Let’s be serious. I told you something last night that I don’t generally tell other people because I was upset with myself and not thinking properly. Then we slept together because you felt hurt and alone and heartbroken, and I’m a jerk who took advantage of that. Don’t mistake it for something more.”
The door bangs shut and I’m left alone in the bedroom, sitting crisscross on his bed. I huff in exasperation and fall backwards on the mattress, although it’s quite clear that I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep now. I’m far too worked up for that.
God, I cannot stand him sometimes. It’s like I finally get a glimpse of something good, something real, but then the door slams shut and I’m left staring at yet another wall. And here I thought we were getting somewhere. Apparently not.
Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong? What happened to make everything change so much? I don’t know, maybe I just misread the signs. But - no. I can’t have. We talked last night. Really talked. So what went wrong?
Urgh. I hate men.
I shiver and pull the sheets a bit tighter around my body as his air conditioner kicks on. Where did those stupid clothes go? Oh, never mind. I’ve learned that searching for my clothes in the morning is generally a hopeless task. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but it’s like they always grow little legs during the night and walk away. Peeking out from just beneath the bed is Louis’s shirt, though, so I dangle my hand over the side of the mattress and somehow manage to scoop it up.
After I’ve wiggled into the shirt, I head off down the hallway in search of both Frenchy and some of his food. Turns out that I don’t have to look very hard, as I manage to locate both of them in the kitchen, where Louis is sitting on one of the barstools lining the island counter and chewing thoughtfully on some sort of sustenance.
“Can I help you?” he mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. He sets the spoon back down in the bowl, so I make a grab for it and take a bite of his breakfast. “Excuse you, I was using that.”
“Yeah, and I’m hungry.”
“Well, you didn’t have to use my spoon. Now your germs are all over it.”
“Really? You’re worried about my germs getting on your spoon? Honestly, Louis, are you forgetting what happened last night?”
“Ha-ha,” he responds dryly. I push the cereal back towards him and frown as my stomach rumbles, but of course I’m not given any attention. No, he only has eyes for that bloody cereal.
I’m officially less attractive than cereal. My life is so pathetic.
Wait a second. Why am I complaining? I’m standing here in an amazing kitchen with limitless supplies at my fingertips, and all I can think about is how he prefers cereal to my own sparkling company. Something must be seriously wrong with me.
“Yesh?” Cereal in the mouth. So attractive.
“Would you mind if I cooked something?”
He shakes his head and takes another bite of his breakfast, so I spin around and gaze at the room excitedly. It’s pretty much the kitchen I’ve always dreamed of, what with the sleek refrigerator, name brand appliances, and cabinets fully stocked with food. Such a glorious space to be standing in. Ah, yes. This shall be fun.
It takes a while to go through all the shelves, but eventually I figure out how he organises his cabinets and manage to pull out all the ingredients I need for my little project. See, I figure I should at least try to not be completely horrible to him or something. I mean, he is letting me stay here and sleep in a bed - well, that last one I kind of forced on him, but whatever. I guess attempting to be a pleasant human being and do something nice for once won’t kill me.
“What’re you doing?” Louis mumbles. At least he’s got the decency to cover his mouth while chewing.
“You’ll see.” I smile coyly at him and measure out a few scoops of flour, taking care to fill each scoop to exactly the right height.
Louis quirks an eyebrow at me but doesn’t say a word, choosing instead to continue munching on the cereal. His right hand dances across the marble countertop towards the hazelnuts I just finished chopping, so I slap it away and dump them into my mixing bowl quickly.
“Since when do you bake?” he asks, dropping his now empty bowl into the sink.
“Since always. It’s my favourite thing in the world.”
“Yep. It’s kind of like my therapy.”
“Okay, good to know.”
“Mmhm. Any other questions?”
“Yes, actually. Do you work today?”
Well, that’s not exactly the question I was expecting. I was figuring he’d go for something more suggestive, seeing as he’s, you know, him. Maybe I misjudged.
“Nope. I've got off all day.”
“All day, huh?” he asks, grinning devilishly. “That’s plenty of time.”
And there it is.
“Uh, no. I think not,” I say shortly. His hands slide around my waist and his lips press against my neck, probably tasting a bit of the flour stuck there from baking. “Louis, I - uh - I don’t - we really shouldn’t -”
“Who gave you permission to wear my shirt?” he murmurs in my ear. “I think I may have to make you take that off, Ava.”
“Um, what?” My voice is about three octaves higher than normal, because that’s not a dead giveaway of how I’m feeling right now.
“Seems to me that we’ve got a whole day to kill. How would you suggest we spend that time, Miss Moore?”
His hands turn me around so we’re facing each other, and that’s when I know I might as well just give up. Stupid blue eyes - wait. I am a strong, independent woman. I have willpower. Just because he has really blue eyes and I really like how he looks without a shirt on - fuck. No, no, no. Self-control. Right. Just because he’s attractive and a really good shag does not mean that I can just run around and sleep with him whenever I feel like it.
No, Ava. No.
Willpower. Strength. Self-control.
I let out a sharp breath as he kisses his way down my neck, and then rest my head against his chest, hoping to regain some semblance of control. But sadly, I cannot. My resolve is crumbling like sand, slipping through the cracks between my fingers with every passing second. I’m such a pathetic excuse for a human being.
“No, Louis,” I mumble into his chest. “I’m serious. Last night was a one-time thing.”
“You don’t sound too sure about that.”
“That’s because I’m not.”
I place my palms flat against his chest and gently shove him away, freeing myself from the hands around my waist. Louis looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t, so I plop down on one of the kitchen stools and press my head miserably against the cool surface of the counter.
“Why is everything in life so complicated?” I mutter against the marble countertop. “Why can’t it be like the games we played when we were younger? Never any problems, never any complications, just simple.”
“Who says it can’t be?”
“Look at me,” I say quietly, lifting my head. “I’m a mess. I’ve got no place to go, no plans for the future, no support system - I’ve got nothing. My life is the furthest from simple you will ever find. Always has been.”
“We’ve all got problems, Ava.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve got plenty,” he says, laughing bitterly.
Louis sighs and takes a seat on the stool beside me, then drums his fingers against the countertop for a few minutes in thoughtful silence. “I’m so scared of commitment that I’ve never been in a real relationship. I’ve got no clue what I want to do with my life. I can count the number of genuine friends I have on one hand. I hate myself on a daily basis. Is that enough, or should I keep going?”
“Please don’t act like you know anything about me. And don’t act like you care, either. You don’t.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, but I don’t think he believes me. I don’t even know if I believe me.
“Can we not do this now, please?” I ask, gazing out at the rain streaking down the windows. Outside the sky is tumultuous and miserable, filled up with dark clouds whipping across the sky like an iron curtain.
“You don’t have to feel guilty. I’m just stating a fact.”
“I get it, you know,” I comment quietly, glancing down at my hands. “I get what it’s like to always be alone. It sucks.”
“Yeah. It does.”
There’s a pause in our conversation, and the silence is so loud that I can barely think straight. Or maybe it’s not the silence that’s deafening, but rather the weight of our words. Something’s happening, though. I can feel it.
“Hey,” I say, nudging him in the side, “at least we can be screwed up together.”
The hints of a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, and before I know it those lips are getting closer and closer and pressing against mine. My fingers knot themselves in his shirt because all I want is more and more and more. I know I shouldn’t be doing this - I really, really shouldn’t be doing this - but to be honest, I don’t care. This week has just sucked and I want a little sunshine in my life. There’s nothing wrong with that.
Louis stumbles off his chair and nearly knocks me off mine in the process, but his hands catch my off-balance body and settle it back down. From my waist, he slides his hands down to my legs and after that everything is such a rush that I really don’t quite know what’s happening. Somehow I wind up with my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck, though how we got to this point I really couldn’t tell you. It just sort of... happened. And I’m okay with that.
“You drive me crazy,” he mutters between kisses. “You know that, Ava? So damn crazy.”
“Oh, I know. I pride myself on it,” I murmur back, and Louis exhales sharply, tightening his grip on the back of my legs.
“That’s it. We’re shagging.”
“I swear to God, Ava, you’re going to be the death of me.”
One of his hands combs through the strands of my hair spread across the mattress, and I smile slightly, gazing up at the ceiling. The rain rattles softly against the window as I inhale deeply and bask in the peacefulness of the moment, totally calm and comfortable for the first time in months. I don’t care if this is wrong, I don’t care if it’s a mistake, and I don’t care what anyone thinks. For the first time in ages, I’m actually kind of happy.
“Well, that is the goal.”
“What are we doing?”
There’s a brief pause, filled only by the rain pinging against the windows, and for a second my stomach lurches at the thought of what he might say. What if this meant something more to him than it does to me? What if it meant less? What if he thinks it was wrong? What if -
“I don’t know. Having fun, I guess.” He shrugs and rolls over onto his side so we can look at each other properly. “I honestly don’t know what’s happening here, but I do know that I like it.”
“Oh, come on, Ava,” he groans. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”
“Well, sorry. You’re going to have to spell it out or I’ll assume the worse.”
“Which would be?”
“That you have feelings for me or some other shit like that,” I say, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes.
Louis laughs slightly and ruffles up his already beyond messed up hair, scratching at the back of his head. “Nope. Not what I was going for.”
“Then what is it? I don’t have all day, you know.”
He snorts and nuzzles his lips against my neck, presses a quick kiss there, then props himself up on one elbow. “I think that you are very attractive.”
“Oh. Good,” I say, smiling slightly. “That’s good.”
“Mmhm. Very good.”
“Why’s that, Miss Moore?” he murmurs, nudging a bit of hair out of my face.
“Because I kind of maybe feel the same way about you?” I blush and pull the sheets a bit tighter around me, averting my gaze to the ceiling. “Hey, Louis?”
I roll over on my side so I can look at him properly and hold up my hands, which are still slightly dusted with flour from my baking project. “I forgot to wash my hands.”
He gives me a strange look of apparent confusion, so I grin sheepishly at him and eye his hair, which I’ve had my hands all over today. The flour’s barely noticeable because of the fact that he’s blonde, so it’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. Besides, his hair already looked like shit when he woke up.
“You bitch,” he says playfully, grinning as he works out what I’ve done. “You little bitch. You’re going to pay for that.”
I shake my head and roll out of bed, away from him and his plots for revenge, then pull on his shirt and pop to my feet. “Nope.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” he counters as I scurry out of the room and back into the kitchen.
“Where are you going, Ava?” Louis asks cheerfully. “There’s nowhere to hide.”
I hear his footsteps coming after me, so I dart into the kitchen and position myself behind the island counter. Hopefully that’ll give me a little insulation between him and whatever his plan is for revenge. Honestly, it’s not like I meant to get flour in his hair; it’s just a rather unfortunate consequence of the past half hour or so.
“Well, would you look at that,” he muses, stepping onto the tile of the kitchen, “there’s a whole bag of flour right there on the counter.”
“No. Don’t you dare -” I shriek, but Louis ignores my warning and flings a handful of the flour at me. The white powder puffs up in a cloud and clings to my skin, sending me into a fit of coughing. “You did not just do that.”
“Actually, I believe I did. What are you going to do about it?”
And from there, everything just goes to hell. There’s flour flying everywhere and soon I can’t even see through the stuff covering my face and floating through the air, but that’s okay. Because it’s fun. Random and pointless and stupid and messy and fun. I can’t even remember the last time I did something this spontaneously just because I felt like it.
It’s nice. It’s really nice.
Our fight doesn’t last that long - mostly because he’s only got the one bag of flour - but by the time we’re done, his entire kitchen looks like a disaster. Flour covers every surface, sticking to the walls and coating the floors and countertops in a white blanket. Giggling, I sink down against the counter and absentmindedly swirl my finger through the powder, tracing patterns on the floor.
“It looks like a war zone in here,” I comment dryly.
“That’s because it is a war zone.” Louis takes a seat on the floor across from me and tucks his knees up to his chest, then wraps his arms around his legs. “You look ridiculous.”
“You’re one to talk,” I snort.
“Excuse you, I happen to look fantastic.”
“Wow. Arrogant much?”
“It’s not arrogant if it’s true - hey! Stop it, Ava!” he protests through laughter as I swipe my hand across the floor and send flour splaying towards him.
“Not until you stop being a pretentious sod.”
“So you’re saying I don’t look extremely attractive right now?”
Not bothering to dignify him with a response, I roll my eyes and stare blankly out at the kitchen before me. It really does look like something terrible happened in here, but I suppose it shouldn’t be too hard to clean up with a little magic.
“I’m not commenting either way,” I finally say. “Now if you'll excuse me, I’ve got to finish some baking.”
“Ah, yes. The mysterious baking.”
“It’s nearly done. Just give me two minutes.”
With a sigh, I get to my feet and busy myself with finishing up the batter I’d been working on, which unfortunately now has far too much flour in it. Stupid Louis with his stupid flour fights and stupid good looks -
“Ava. Ava. Ava!”
“What?” I demand, glaring as he catches my wrist with his hand.
“You just smashed an egg into the batter. Shell and all.” Louis raises an eyebrow at me and looks pointedly into my mixing bowl, where a multitude of little white pieces of shell are now floating daintily.
“God dammit,” I mutter. “It’s ruined. I just screw everything up, don’t I? God, I’m so stupid -”
“Hey, stop it. Seriously, Ava, it’s okay. You were just zoning out there for a minute. It’s fine. You can start over if you want to.”
I shake my head and toss the mixing bowl in the sink dejectedly, flinching slightly as a bit of the batter jumps out of it upon impact. “I guess. I think I’m just going to go and take a shower, though. This flour is making me itchy.”
“Wait! Ava, hold up,” he calls as I begin to walk out of the kitchen. “Ava Moore, come back here!”
Two hands grab me by the waist just as I reach the hallway, so I struggle and squirm and quite honestly consider kicking him somewhere he would probably prefer not to be kicked. This is so unfair. Why do men always have to be stronger than women?
“Let - me - go,” I grunt, but he refuses and pulls me against his chest.
“I just need to know what it is we’re doing here,” he says in my ear, sending a set of shivers down my spine again. Stupid spine.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I really don’t.”
“I just... if you don’t want to label things I’m okay with that, but I need to know where I stand,” he says, finally letting go of my waist.
I bite my lip and turn slowly to face him, and - fuck. I forgot that he’s not wearing a shirt. This isn’t bloody fair, what with his stupid blue eyes and stupid face and stupid, stupid abs -
“Like what you see, Ava?” Louis smirks and stretches his arms behind his head in an action obviously picked for my benefit. “Just so you know, I do have to work to look this good, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Shut up,” I mutter as my face burns.
“It’s okay,” he says, laughing slightly. “I’m only teasing. Don’t get so worked up over everything.”
“I - I -”
God, I hate this. I’m acting like such a child. But - I just - he makes me feel so uncomfortable. Guys never make me feel like this. Ever. I’m always the one who’s confident and sexy and flirty, not the other way around. Just - urgh.
“Ava?” Louis inquires, ruffling his hair up. “You okay?”
“You sure?” He smirks and places one palm flat against the wall above my left shoulder. “Because it looks like your face is about to catch on fire.”
“I - um - I need to shower,” I mumble, ducking under his arm.
Louis, of course, isn’t having any of that. His hands grab my waist again and stop me in my tracks, then spin me around so we can see each other. Fuck. I keep forgetting that he doesn’t have a shirt on. God dammit -
“Ava, be serious. We really do need to talk about this.”
I sigh and run one hand back through my hair, which I happen to know looks like a rat’s nest by this point. My fingers, sure enough, get caught in knot after knot, but I continue yanking my way through it because anything's better than just standing here awkwardly. Or maybe it isn’t. I don’t know because all I can think about are his stupid abs.
“I guess - we - shit. What I mean is that I - I don’t know what to say, Louis,” I finally admit. “I really don’t. We’re having fun, I suppose. Isn’t that what you said earlier? I don’t know - I’ll think about it in the shower. And no, you can’t come with me.”
I snicker and duck into the bathroom, taking care to lock the door behind me. I know he’s going to get me back for that little jab, but it was totally worth it. How could he not expect me to say that, though? Honestly, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all.
After a solid twenty minutes, I emerge from the shower with all traces of flour gone from my person. I dry my skin with one of his fluffy sea green towels - which, coincidentally, smell like the sea - and wrap it around my body tightly, then meander out of the bathroom lazily. Now if I could just find my clothes...
Apparently, that’s asking too much, though. I must search for a solid ten minutes, but I simply cannot find them. It’s like they’ve just evaporated into thin air. Instead I settle for yanking open one of his drawers and grabbing the first shirt I can find, which just so happens to be a pale blue button up.
“Louis?” I yell as I wander out of the bedroom. I can see him at the end of the hall, seated on one of the stools lining the kitchen island and eating what appears to be a second bowl of cereal. “Do you know where my clothes are?”
“I put them in the wash,” he mumbles, chewing on a bite of his breakfast. “That okay?”
“Yeah. I was just wondering where they got to.” I shrug and drop down onto the stool beside him, then swipe away his bowl and proceed to polish off the cereal.
“No, no, go ahead. Help yourself,” he says sarcastically.
"Well, if you would just make me a cheeseburger we wouldn’t have this little problem. But more importantly, what’s on the schedule for today?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to provide your entertainment and your room and board.”
“Unless you want me to annoy you all day long, I suggest you think of something.”
Frowning, he taps his fingers rhythmically against the counter top and stares blankly out at the room in thoughtful silence. I mean, I guess I could find something to amuse myself, but to be honest I don’t know if I can take a second day of being cooped up in his flat doing nothing. God, I can’t wait to go back to work tomorrow.
Wow. I never thought I’d ever think that. Huh.
“Well,” Louis says slowly, “did you know that I am quite the Muggle film buff?”
“Really?” I ask skeptically.
He nods and paces over to the living room, then kneels down and yanks open one of the cabinet doors beneath his television and waves me over. Soon a huge collection of DVDs is spread out before us on the floor, carefully placed so all of the titles are visible. He’s got a bit of everything - action, science fiction, comedy - though I don’t know much about the films besides their genres. I’ve never been one to go and sit still for hours on end just to stare at a screen.
“Yeah. And I figure that a good film is exactly what you need right now.”
“Yes indeed, Miss Ava.”
“In that case, what do you recommend?”
“Well, this one’s pretty good.” Louis taps his finger against the plastic case of one of the films. On the front cover sits the black and white silhouettes of a man and a woman staring deeply into each other’s eyes and an old-timey font declaring the movie’s title.
“Uh, no. I don’t do sappy romance films,” I say, flicking the case dismissively back towards him.
“Oh, trust me. It’s not a romance. I mean, it sort of is, but not really. That’s not the main plot or anything.”
“Hm. All right, I’ll give it a shot,” I say reluctantly. “But if this does wind up being a sappy romance, I’m going to kill you.”
“I promise you’ll like it. Now, what do you say we break out my computer and watch this little beauty on the bed, yeah?”
“How suggestive of you.”
Louis snorts and shoves me on the shoulder, then gets to his feet and pads out of the living room. “You coming?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter, following him off into the bedroom and flopping down onto the mattress. “This better be good.”
“It will be.”
And, as much as I hate to admit it, the film was good. He does have pretty good taste when it comes to his DVDs, I suppose, because that’s what we do for the rest of the day - lie on his bed and watch film after film. I mean, we don’t really watch the whole time - there’s a lot of talking over the audio - but still. It’s kind of really nice.
I even get to cook lunch and dinner, which just makes things even better. Although I prefer baking any day, you can’t exactly bake a meal, so I don’t really mind settling. All in all, I can’t really complain about my day. For once, I don’t have to worry about anything. All the cabinets are fully stocked, the electricity doesn’t go out because of the storm, the heating and cooling systems work properly - it’s just nice. And the company’s not bad, either.
“What did you think?” Louis murmurs. I smile as his lips press gently against my temple, then let my head rest against his chest with a slight yawn.
“It was good,” I say sleepily, though I really didn’t pay attention for most of the film. It’s getting past my bedtime, and I’m tired.
“You’re such a little liar,” he teases as one hand plays with my hair. “You slept through half of it.”
“It was still good.”
“Well, the parts I saw were good.”
I let out another yawn and press my face into his shirt, breathing in deeply and absorbing the scent of his cologne. Another movie begins to play on the laptop, but I don’t bother looking up or removing my face from his chest. He just smells so freaking good. His cologne reminds me of the ocean... kind of warm and sunny and breezy and fresh and -
“Are you sniffing me?”
“Yes,” I mumble, and immediately vibrations of laughter begin to emanate from his chest.
“You’re so weird.”
“I’m not weird. You just smell nice.”
“Ava, face it. You’re not like most girls.”
“How so?” I demand, propping myself up on one elbow. One of my eyebrows quirks up as I stare at him, but Louis ignores my intimidation and just laughs again. Apparently I’m not very good at looking threatening.
“Well, for starters, most normal girls would not be sniffing my cologne when they’ve got me in bed. Generally their minds are elsewhere.”
“Oh, shut up. You’re a jerk,” I mutter, settling my head back down against his chest.
“Hey, don’t go getting irritated with me. All I said is that you’re weird, not that it’s a bad thing.”
“It was implied.”
“Ava, come on. Look at me,” he says. One of his hands finds its way under my chin and tilts my head up so we can see each other, fingers gently cupping my face. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re really crazy sometimes, but it’s kind of hot. You know, when you’re not going all psycho bitch on me.”
“Whatever. You’re still a jerk.”
“Yes,” I mutter, trying my hardest to keep a straight face.
“You know, Ava, if I didn’t know any better I would think that you don’t like me.”
“That’s because I don’t.”
“Really?” he murmurs, leaning in towards me. “So you wouldn’t care if I just -”
Before he gets a chance to finish his sentence, though, I press my lips against his and end the conversation all together. The film continues to play on the computer in the background, but to be completely honest we’re not even paying attention to it anymore. At some point the laptop falls of the bed and hits the ground with a dull thud, but again, neither of us really cares.
All that really matters to me right now is us. Not the computer, not the film, just us. This. Whatever it is that we’re doing. I know this is a bad idea, but so much has happened this week that I just don’t care anymore. I’m so sick of being alone and hurt and killing myself over work and money and debt that I honestly don’t care what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with. So what’s the big deal if I want to spend another night with him? We’re just two kids having fun. There’s nothing wrong with that.
For once, everything feels like it's starting to fall into place. Despite the fact that my whole world is collapsing, despite the fact that I've got no idea what I'm doing with my life, right now everything is perfect. Even the rain is perfect. I don't know what's going on, but I do know that I like it.
I like the rain.
A/N: This is like the fourth version of the chapter I've written, and to be honest, I'm still not quite sure how I feel about it. Hopefully you guys liked it, though. I'm not a big fan of it myself, but meh. Whatevs.
Also, does anyone have a good couple name? The best I've got is Louva. Or Avois. Thoughts?