Fucked up (1D)

The 17 year old Mary Jane Moore, lives a normal life - until on her 17th birthday, where her loving parents tragically dies in a car accident. The young man behind the opposing car survives - but he is no ordinary boy. What will happen when Mary Jane is forced to meet the "killer" of her parents? And what will happen to her after her parents death?


45. Wrong

Our lips moved in sync, and after the first ten awkward seconds, we started to know each others moves, making the kiss flow more easily. I sat up on the bench, moving closer to him, putting my hands in his chestnut hair. My heart was pumping, and the butterflies felt like they were going to burst out of my body, leaving my spilt body on the windows, overviewing the pier. But at the same time, my mind kept telling me to stop, to think about the consequences.

"That's right, keep going!"

"NO! Harry, think about Harry! Don't do this, please!"

"They're going to leave you anyway. Might as well have some fun with it, while you still can."

"No! Think about what it'll do to you, to Harry… your relationship."

"Doesn't matter! He already pities the crap out of you! Mary, you want this, Louis wants this. Keep going!"

I sat up on my knees, Lou and my lips never parting, and swung my legs over his crotch, sitting on top of him, our kiss developing.

"Keep going."

"No! Stop!"

"That's right… now take his jacket off!"

I pushed off his jacket, and he followed troops, lifting the sweater over top of my head, throwing it on the floor. Then the T-shirt went off, revealing his trained chest. He wasn't quite as fit as Harry, or as broad, but he was beautiful. I pulled away for a moment, gazing at his body. Then his lips crashed into mine, as his hands travelled down to my breasts, touching them lightly, before going down to the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head.

"Pants. This is good! You want this!"

"No, please. Please!"

I stood up, and started opening his pants, fiddling with the zipper. I got it open, and threw them on the floor next to the rest of the stuff, leaving him sitting in his striped boxers. I smiled. He stood up in front of me, and carefully pressed his lips to mine, turning into a more delicate Louis. His hands carefully slid down to the top of my leggins, pulling them down, not even looking at my wounded legs.

"You're gorgeous.." he whispered in my ear, as he lead me to the bench, sitting down. I parted my legs, sitting down on top of him, kissing him, and like before, the kiss developed into some pretty serious stuff. He was panting, as he stopped, looking me in the eyes, his own half-closed, suddenly opening wide.

"Do it! You're so damn close, just DO IT"

"No, don't! Can't you see what you're doing?" And for the first time in months I listened to the good voice.

"We can't do this." I said, stepping up, walking to the corner of the transparent box we'd been placed in.

"We can't…" I whispered, as I realized what I'd just done.

"No, no, no, this is all wrong!" I yelled, picking up my tights, quickly pulling them on, doing the same with the top, and sweater.

"This is so wrong!" I screamed, hiding my face in my hands. Lou just sat there, looking around. The people in the boxes next to us was looking very intently at us, some taking photos, others hiding their eyes. It was bad.

"THIS IS SO FUCKING WRONG!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, sliding down the glass, sitting in fetal-position on the floor. Lou stood up, and pulled on his pants and T-shirt, and sat back down watching me, his hands covering his face completely.

"What have I done?" he muttered, shaking his head.

"What have I done?" he said again, looking up and around, then looking back down into his hands. The tears was streaming down my face, making me shake with anger and disappointment. This was terrible. What had I done? Destroyed everything that I loved, by one moment of silliness. It just couldn't be true. I pinched my arm, trying to make sure it wasn't real. I flinched. The nightmare was real. My phone beeped, making me jump. I pulled it out of my pocket, looking at the display. One message from Harry. It was a picture of Lou and I, in our underwear, on top of each other in a clear booth, overviewing the pier. Then a question mark. Nothing more. Just a cold, cold question mark, with no reaction, no smiley, no heart, nothing.


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