Louis Tomlinson Can't Love Me...

Claire was a normal teenage girl. Fussed over acne. Fussed over clothes. Fussed over boybands. But when her father passes, she becomes bitter. Hateful. Like she is mad at the world. Her mother buys her tickets to a One Direction concert in a desperate attempt to bring her back. WIll meeting the boy of her dreams fix her?


4. Trying to Forget

"I'm not paying for a new one Claire; this is on you." My mom stood in front of my bedroom door, hands on her hips. "I just spent a ton of money for that concert. I'm not saying I wish I hadn't, but I cannot afford to get you a new phone due to your carelessness."

I stomped my foot, a childish thing I so wish I had not done afterwards.

"Mom, my job pays 15 dollars an hour. I am trying to save enough money for an apartment; I can't take out any on my college fund. What am I supposed to do? I need a cell phone!"

My mom shook her head."You're going to have to deal."

I walked in my bedroom and collapsed on my desk chair in front of my computer. "I have to do homework mom. Can you go?"

She shook her head again and walked out, closing my bedroom door behind her. I sighed, then turned to my computer. Where had I put my phone? What a night to lose it. I was so excited about meeting One Direction, I couldn't remember anything but that!

I clicked the internet shortcut on my desktop. I went to Google and typed in the following:

Does Verizon have an app to find a missing phone?

After almost an hour of searching, I found a good one: Verizon-Find-My-Phone. I clicked on the link, and the text on the screen read Type in your phone number. In the box below, I typed 555-555-1234. I clicked next.

A map appeared and then zoomed in. The adress was on the screen, with the top of the building showing.

I didn't recgonize the adress. I put my head in my hands in frustration. Who had my phone? The adress said it was in Chicago; I live in Illonis. I wondered if I had left in in the backstage room of the place I had watched the One Direction concert. If I had, it was too late now.

I sighed and shut off my computer. I stood up and jumped on my bed. I finally had time to think. I didn't want to remember that night, in fact, I was trying to forget.

I was afraid.

I was afraid that if I thought about it, I would belive it. And that was impossible. Louis couldn't like m e. But he kissed me...well, he does that to all his fans. But that was different. It felt special, magical.

I put a pillow on my face and groaned. Louis Tomlinson

Claire Tomlinson



Before I knew it I was asleep. My mom didn't wake me up for dinner, or at least she didn't do a good job of it, because the next time I woke up it was 3:34 in the morning. 

I sat up and stared into darkness. I felt uncomfortable. I realized I was still wearing jeans and my tank top, so I got up and flicked on my light. Opening the closet, I rummaged until I found my pajamas, red velvet Prada sweats and a Hollister black off the shoulder shirt. I carried those to the bathroom, down the stairs and pass the kitchen, and changed there. 

The girl in the mirror looked different than who I was. Her hair was mussy in a pretty hair, her eyes wide without looking suprised. I felt if someone was watching me, and sub-consiously I was looking my best. I almost laughed at the thought.

Flipping off the light switch in the bathroom, I set off back to my room. I stopped at the kitchen window. It was open. I thought it was closed before, but I was half-asleep.

"Mom..." I grumbled as I walked over to it in the dark, the light of the moon the only thing guiding me. And it was beautiful. The stars were almost mesmirizing, the curtains blowing. The cold snapped me back.

I shut the window and yawned. I decided since I was already in the kitchen, I would get some water. I filled a clear glass with ice water and headed back up to my room, sipping as I went. I took another sip just as I was opening the door. It was dark. I closed the door before I flipped on my overhead light, so as not to disturb my mom with the light.

I flipped on the light. And I gave out a small shriek, dropping my glass. It spilled and shatterd on the rug. The water seeped to my feet, and the cold was so extreme I took a foolish step foreward, and muliple pieces of glass implanted my foot. I grunted and shut my eyes. I was woozy, and I started to fall, but I gripped the doorknob to keep me upright.

"What...th-the hell are you doing here?"

Sitting on my bed was...Louis Tomlinson.

He looked shocked, immoble.

"Well? Help?"  I screeched, as quietley as I could. The blood was dropping of my foot to my white sheepskin rug.

Louis jumped off the bed and carefully stepped over the glass. He looked me up and down.

"I guess we haveh to carreh youh, theres no way you can hop ovah this mess." He said, just as he was picking me up.

He held me like you would as of a baby, one arm under my neck and one under the back of my knees. Then he stepped over the glass and blood again, then carried me over to my bed. He carefully set me on my pillow.

Louis sat on my desk chair. "Well, thaht was something, huh?"

I glared at him. "What am I going to tell my mom?"  I gestuared toward my red foot.

He looked startled. "Oh, riot, that."

He dissapeared out of my bedroom door, then I started hypenventalating. What was Louis Tomlinson doing in my room? My blood was getting all over my silver-gray sheets, and I was in serious pain!

I stretched toward my feet, and tried to take a glass shard out of my foot. It hurt to much a couple tears ran down my face, and I gasped.

Of course, then Louis came back. He had gotten shoes on, a pair of my dads onl flip-flops, and had a first-aid kit in his hand. When he saw me crying, he dashed over and gave me a hug, saying, "It's okay, I'm sorry,". He kissed me on my forehead, then gently pulled away.

Kneeling at my feet, Louis opened the first aid kid and pulled out tweezers. I could feel myself pale.

I screwed my eyes shut as he took the first out. It was then I realized I had stepped on a lot of glass, and pain was to come.

But I was lucky, because by the 4th piece of glass had been taked out, I had lost consiousness.

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