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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14. Chapter Thirteen

 

You mustn’t go.” The words were still echoing in my head, even now two hours later.

Who did they think they were? Okay, they were my parents, but that didn’t change the fact that tonight was my best friend’s birthday and that I had to go to her party. I had promised her, and I was a person to always keep my words.

My parent’s excuse for basically locking me inside the house had been the usual: “Sorry darling, we will have some very important guests visiting us tonight. You have to stay at home.” How pathetic of them to say that. The “important guests” was mostly just some old friends of theirs back from their college days or a smelly old aunt. It was even more pathetic of them to think that their words would keep me from going to the party.

I took a look in my white full-body mirror and glanced down my reflection; I was wearing a tight, knee-length, black dress, which hugged my shapes in all the right places. It was kind of sassy, but I didn’t mind: The top was cut fairly low and showed a bit of cleavage—even though there really wasn’t that much to show off. I hadn’t really done anything special to my hair. It looked fine as it was, hanging loosely down my back in its soft waves. My makeup was simple; a touch of silvery eyeliner, a couple of layers of black mascara and a glossy lipstick was all it took.

I took a turn in front of the mirror in my favorite black stilettoes. My classic party-look seemed to fit me well tonight.

I walked over to the only window in my bedroom and pulled it wide open. I then swung a leg over the edge of it and took a step down on my father’s ladder. I had to admit that I hadn’t quite thought the part about the ladder through—that and the stilettoes was most defiantly not a great combination.

I climbed down the last few steps of the ladder and felt relived, when I could step in safety on the ground. Our garden was dark, but I knew it well enough to find my way out to the lit-up street. I shot a brief look at my house, before I turned away and confidentially walked down the street.

My parents could try to stop me now.

 

 

 

I had been able to hear the music blasting a block away from Jordan’s house. I had smiled before I even got there; judging by the music this night had loads of fun to bring.

I didn’t bother knocking on the white oak front door when I finally got to her house. It was a party, for God’s sake—and even if I did, you surely wouldn’t be able to hear the doorbell in cause of the music. Also, it was a completely no-go to knock on the door when it was open and you could easily walk inside. And that’s what I did; I stepped over the doorstep and entered the party with a secure smirk on my face.

What used to be Jordan’s living room was now turned into a great dance floor, the normal and boring furniture all gone. Even though I was only ten minutes late, I could see the party was already heating up. The floor was crowded with guys and girls in couples, all dancing close against each other to the tune of “I Got A Feeling”. Behind the dance floor I could see the dining room, which also were completely empty of furniture. A white banner with crinkled, red and silvery letters hung from the ceiling saying, “Happy birthday Jordan!” A bunch of people was spread around the room, looking like they were trying to chitchat over the loud music from the speakers in the living room. Some of them had chips in their hands, but most of them were holding onto shiny, bright red cups.

The atmosphere was best described as top notch.

I spotted Jordan and Chloe standing close to the dance floor, looking as stunning in their dresses as Jordan had promised me they would. She was wearing a strapless, dark red dress in satin and her long, chocolate brown hair fell nicely over her shoulders, making her look a bit like a beautiful Hollywood actress. Chloe was wearing a loose, black and white-striped dress with a low-cut back and had her curly, blond hair in a glamorous side-ponytail.

I made my way through the crowded dance floor whilst trying not to push to too many people, and walked over to my friends.

“Hey!” they both squealed when they saw me.

Chloe grinned. “We’ve only been waiting for you to come. We all know that the party first really starts when you have arrived.” I smiled and pulled them both in for a tight and happy group hug, before I turned my full attention to Jordan.

“Happy 19th, girl!” I happily exclaimed. She smiled, but still managed to show me a frown.

“Damn you, Jess. You don’t have to remind me that I’m old.”

A mischievous look showed on my face when she uttered her words. “That reminds me…” I mumbled and took out a banner from my handbag with six words scribbled in silver across a pale white background: “19 years and still going strong”.

She was going to hate me for doing this. When I put it around her neck, I could see that I was right. Jordan threw her hands up in the air. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm when she said: “Why, thank you. I really appreciate it. Now everybody knows that I could be their grandma!” She yelled the last part out loud, and the people around her turned to look strangely at her. I just laughed at her, and so did Chloe.

I almost got a heart attack when I accidentally shot a glance at the other end of the room. I tried to swallow the nervous gulp that was slowly starting to build in my throat, but it stayed in its place, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

There he was, looking so amazingly carefree and joyful. His friends were standing around him, some of them looking like they were going to die of laughter over one of his jokes—believe me, I knew how that felt, because it happened a lot to me when I was around him. They all looked great, but my eye only caught sight of Louis. He looked so incredibly hot in his black trousers, white, tight-fitted tee and not to forget, his always perfectly styled quiff.

“Did you invite all the teens in London, if I may ask?” I questioned Jordan, behind my words secretly referring to Louis.

“Nope,” she answered and shrugged her shoulders. “I just invited all of my Facebook-friends.” I stared at her with that are-you-serious-look. Jordan had at least 300 teenage friends on Facebook.  “Hey, don’t judge me! Not everybody was able to make it,” she argued.

“I’m not judging you!”

“And I’m not hot.”

“We’ll say so.” We stared mean into each others eye, but we didn’t hold the contact for more than three seconds before we burst out laughing.

In all of a sudden, Jordan's face went serious. Her head was turned away from Chloe and I, and her eyebrows were one long line. My eyes followed her gazeu until they stumbled across Louis. Why was she watching him?

Jordan turned her attention away from him to look at me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you two haven’t seen each other since … you know.” I gave her a stiff nod; she was talking about how Louis and I had “stopped dating” some time back. “I didn’t mean to let that invitation slip through,” she continued and softly stroked my arm. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

“No, that’s all right. I’m sure you didn’t mean to,” I assured her and forced on a smile. I shot a look at Chloe, which looked like she was going to bite a gasp in her lip. To lighten up the bad atmosphere, Jordan put a smile on her face and said: “It’s still my birthday! Come on, let’s have some fun and enjoy the party!” She then took Chloe by the hand and lead her out on the dance floor, whispering something that sounded like, “Now look hot so the guys will want to come over; I don’t want to be called the wallflower birthday girl for the rest of the year!”

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