She's Not Afraid - A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction

21-year old Louis Tomlinson is a normal college student studying at London University: He’s living a good social life with his four best friends, partying and making plans for his very near future. But then something new and unpredictable got pushed into the picture: Love. Before Louis knows it, he’s fallen for a girl that he barely knows - and she is basically the definition of a "wild child". As their relationship sprouts, he will have to face problems he had never dreamt of handeling before and feel the backside of the gold medal known as love: Betrayal, hatred, loss and misery. *Check out the trailer in the sidebar! :)*

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5. Chapter Four

 

“What about that?” I said and pointed my finger at a little place just on the other side of the street. Small tables, red curtains and small art pieces was all I could see through the glass windows of a small Italian restaurant called “MaMA”, but it seemed like a nice place.

“Yeah, let’s go for it,” Jessica said and nodded.

After the movie I had asked her if she wanted to grab something to eat, and when she said yes, I had taken her by the hand and we had walked down Regent Street’s numerous evening lights.

We crossed the street by the nearest crosswalk and walked up to the restaurant I had caught sight of. I opened the door for her and bowed deeply and formally, when she stepped over the threshold. She giggled, but beat me softly on the shoulder and told me to get up directly away. “This is a fine restaurant, Mr. Tomlinson,” she said. “Now is not the time to fool around.” I could see her point, but I still had a hard time taking her seriously when she looked at me with that spark in her eye.

We walked up to a sign which said, “Please wait here” with fat, black font and waited for a waiter to come and service us. A moment later, someone did.

“Table for two?” the waitress asked us. I looked at Jessica as I intertwined my fingers with hers. I found myself smiling like a fool at her when I, still with my eyes on her, affirmed the waitress, “Table for two.”

She led us to one of the window tables and gave us two menu cards. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she said and left us alone. In the middle of the small table stood a low vase made of fine-shaped glass, and in it was a little but beautiful rose in the greatest red color. I picked it up from the vase and held it between my fingers, as I reached over the table. “For you,” I said to Jessica. “It might sound cheesy, but you are just as gorgeous as it is.”

And I wasn’t an empty comparison. She was absolutely beautiful.

Jessica took the rose and closed her eyes, when she smelled it. A smile showed upon her lips. “Thank you, Louis,” she told me. “That’s really sweet of you.”

We ordered our food when the waitress came back: I decided for spaghetti with meatballs and she for a risotto with seafood.

“In which part of the city are you living?” she asked me with a small smile on her face, her small dimples showing. “Just by Hyde Park,” I answered. “I live close to King’s Cross Station,” she said. “At my parents’ place.” I slightly raised my one eyebrow in surprise; I hadn’t thought Jessica would still be living at home. She seemed like a grown woman with goals in her life—they might not be that big yet, but she still had some.

I took a slice of bread from a small breadbasket on the table and took a bite of it. It tasted wonderful, like Italy: Rosemary and olive oil.

Jessica had seen my reaction to her statement about living home and now leaned a bit over the table. “What’s wrong with that? I’m only 18.” I almost choked on my bread, but I luckily pulled it off by coughing heavily into my arm.

“Sorry?” I asked her in a hoarse voice.

“There should not be anything wrong with me living at home when I’m 18, should there?” she said. A little and slightly concerned wrinkle showed on her forehead, when she noted that she filled 19 in two months.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with that,” I hurried to say so I wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t one to be against age difference, but still … “I just— I hadn’t expected that to come.” She shrugged her shoulders carelessly and took a sip of water from the glass in front of her. (The waitress had brought us a bottle of water while we decided on what to order, and then, poured it down the thin-made glass.)

“Then why haven’t you moved out yet?” I carefully asked her. I didn’t want to push her in a direction she didn’t want to go in. “Most young adults wants to get away as fast as they can.” I smiled when she giggled at me. I honestly didn’t know why she thought I was funny—that last thing I said was not even meant as a joke.

“Believe me when I say I want to get away,” Jessica said. “I can’t stand my parents.” She held the straw in her glass between her fingers and nervously moved it in circles through the water. “It’s not even a hard confession for me to make,” she said.

Our eyes locked together, when she looked up from the water in her glass.

“Why?” She bit her lower lip slightly and I couldn’t help but smile; she was outgoing, but yet so shy.

I really felt like an idiot … a happy idiot that was constantly smiling, though.

“I guess you can call them strict,” she said. “I always have to keep my room clean—which is really hard for me to do—and they have a hard time letting me go out. Like, seriously a hard time. Most of my nights I have to get home right after work.”

“But still you’re out with me right now.”

“I couldn’t bare the thought of ditching you.” For a moment she looked me in the eyes, but then a wild glimpse shone in her eyes and she started laughing. “No,” she said and tried to keep her laughter under control, “I just told them I had a date.”

I had no idea of the funny thing in it, but somehow I started laughing, too. We were however interrupted when our dinners was placed in front of us. I gave the waitress a quick “thank you” and she went back into the kitchen. I took a look at my meal: I hadn’t had spaghetti with meatballs in ages. It would be at least two weeks ago, which for me is a long time. The last time I had eaten it, Harry had made it. I loved his spaghetti; it was one of the many dishes he was a great maker of. 

“I can promise you one thing,” Jessica said as she took her first bite of her seafood risotto. “And that is that I will not live with my parents any longer than I need to. Trust me, I want to get out, but I don’t have the money I need. I have my savings and they will only be used on traveling. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me.” Whatever she thought was right for her, was right. She was an independent woman; she knew how to make the best choices for herself.

As we made our way through the meal, I kept falling behind; it was not like I was loosing track of our conversation, but I got caught up in her from time to time. It didn’t take long for me to notice the dimples in her cheeks that showed themselves when she smiled. The wild twinkle that forever stayed in her eyes. Her giggle that sounded like the sweetest music in my ears. And not to forget, the cute way she tried to hide the shyness she felt when I said something intense.

“—So all I did was tell the truth,” Jessica said when she told me about her dog, Bailey. You know how people always use the excuse “my dog ate it!” when they forget do their homework? Apparently she had used it, too, but her teacher hadn’t believed her. And honestly, which clever teacher would have?

“And I still failed the assignment big time!” She sighed loudly. “Just thinking about it makes me furious. I am never going back to elementary-school and that teacher again—never!”

We were talking about dogs and I didn’t feel bored at all … this girl really understood how to keep my interest secured.

I took a look down at my close to empty plate: A few meatballs were still swimming around in the tomato sauce and some long spaghettis was almost hid in the red mass. My stomach was full. I would never be able to eat the last bits, even though it tasted like heaven. I looked thoughtfully at Jessica before I glanced back down at the leftovers of my meal.

I put my face down to the plate and carefully pushed the meatball over it with my nose tip.

She giggled when she realized what I was doing. “Thank you,” she smiled and picked up the meatball with her fork. I rose from the plate, as my position was kind of awkward.

“I hope you like it,” I said and grinned stupidly at her.

Jessica pressed her lips tightly together, as she tried not to let a laugh slip out. “You’ve got a little something—” she said and pointed a finger at me. I rubbed my cheek in a try to get whatever off, but she only snorted affectingly at me. “Not there,” she told me and tried to show me by, again, a point.

“Where?” I asked her, knowing I was teasing her. She knew I could brush it off if I really wanted to.

“Just about everywhere,” she said.

“But where?!” I exclaimed.

Jessica shook her head and took the napkin on her lap in her hand. “Let me,” she offered. She then softly wiped off some tomato sauce from my cheek and nose tip with a tenderly held hand. “So,” she said and took the napkin down, “are we finished here?”

I asked the waitress for the check and she brought it to me right away. Jessica didn’t mind I paid for our dinner, when I told her I wanted to. All she had to say was, “only a gentleman does that, and I like those!” I didn’t hesitate on letting a cocky smile slipping out on my lips: I liked the term of me being a gentleman.

When we walked outside the street was buzzing with red lights and cars was whizzing past us through the cool evening air. I eyed Jessica as she tucked her coat closer around her small body. She shivered and I instantly felt an urge to wrap my arms around her to keep her warm—but it was getting late, and now was probably the moment I hadn’t wanted to ever come: The time for me to tell her goodbye.

“I’ve had a nice time,” I told her and faked a smile. I didn’t want to leave her like this: Cold and alone in the middle of the night on a dark street.

“I’ve had, too,” she said and looked up at me. Her sparkling grey eyes radiated something that ensured me her words were true.

“So,” I said and swallowed. “I guess this, for now, is a good—”

I didn’t get to finish when Jessica laid a finger on my lips to make me stop talking. “The night is still young,” she said and when she smiled cheekily at me, I swear my heart skipped a beat. “We shouldn’t waste it, now should we?” She reached for my hand, and when our fingertips touched, I grabbed her hand. She smiled at her feet before she said, “I know a place. Come on, let me take you there.”

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