I Always Will Remember (A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction) *COMPLETE*

Alice and Irene, two Italian university students, finally manage to have One Direction tickets for their Stadium tour! The band is having one Italian date in the same town where the girls attend university: what happens when they accidentally meet two of the boys around?
See what happens that changes their lives forever!


____ **Some swear words and mature content here and there**____

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6. Chapter Six

My parents were a little surprised when they saw me: I should have been home almost two hours ago.

“Hey there... I thought you moved to Irene's house” my dad ironically said, while my mum welcomed me with a smile, as usual: luckily they've never been unreasonably strict and knew they could trust me.

I quickly explained my plans, omitting the little fact I wasn't going out with usual friends but with an unbelievably famous boyband, and went upstairs for the hardest challenge ever: picking up suitable outfits for the night. My parents obviously let me do pretty much everything I wanted, as long as I was ok with my university duties and didn't do anything stupid.

 

I opened my wardrobe, already starting to panic; I wanted to be back to Irene as soon as possible but I had no clue about what to wear: I normally had clothes struggles every time I went out, but this time there were the five cutest and hottest guys currently on Earth going out with me!

Not mentioning that the boy who represented everything I could possibly desire was there too.

I had just one single certainty: no heels. I didn't want the boys to think I was trying to impress them, I totally wasn't the kind of girl who wants to be noticed because of the low cut on her top or the (way too) short dress, plus I would have been almost as tall as Louis.

I instead chose my favourite flats: they were black, with regular little geometrical shapes carved into them – so that the skin showed a bit through them – and tiny golden beads.

 

I looked from one side to the other of my wardrobe, and started picking up different options so that I could try them on with Irene and listen to her remarks.

The method I usually applied when choosing what to wear was to follow my mood, so I took out various combinations without further speculations about it: I ended up having three dresses, two black ones – one was kind of elegant, the other more informal – and a brown skater dress with half sleeves and a floral pattern with little orange roses, then white and grey shorts with tight black and white tops in case I wasn't feeling like wearing a dress.

Being quite satisfied, I put them all into a big shopping bag, took the shoes' box and ran into the bathroom to get the most important thing of it all: my beauty bag. Irene always offered me her stuff but I felt much more confident with my brushes and make up.

I jumped downstairs, kissed my parents and drove back the most fast and imprudently I could. I lived about five minutes by car from Irene but I made it in three.

 

Irene was just finishing her shower, so I went to her bedroom and displayed everything on her bed, and as she joined me we went on a half an hour discussion about the pro and cons of our choices: we couldn't start putting make up on without our clothes chosen!

Irene was quite indecisive between two dresses as well: a classic red one and a strapless black dress with a satin flower applied on the left of her chest.

We tried everything on and finally made up our minds: Irene went for the black dress and I picked the brown one; it was casual and not too elegant, but cute, and I felt really good in it.

 

“I'm starting to get nervous... I can't swallow a thing!” Irene admitted while we were trying to have a quick dinner.

“I know I know... let's pretend it's a normal evening ok? We'll hang out, dance, and have fun... with... with One Direction!” I screamed and Irene followed me immediately.

We could confirm we definitely lost control.

 

Then we set down our 'make up corner' and for the next minutes there were eyeshadow palettes, foundation, creams, perfumes and brushes everywhere.

I decided to do my usual make up: a heavy black matte eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara, a natural look on the rest of my visage; I didn't like to look like a doll with tons of blush and intense lipstick. I also let my hair natural, they were pretty straight on their own already.

Irene matched her dress and silver flats with a dark grey and silver shimmery eyeshadow, putting some light pink blush on her cheeks, and a lipgloss; she then adjusted her locks with a hair straightener.

 

We checked every detail a thousand times and, believe it or not, we were finally ready to leave at half past nine: that makes three hours just to put a dress on and some random powder on our faces.

But we terribly loved to get ready together and waste our time on meaningless things. As an excuse we can say it wasn't a normal night out, it definitely wasn't: the thought of seeing the boys again throw me into anguish.

How was I supposed to behave? How could I possibly be myself when Louis was around? What if he would think I was a goose? I tried to avoid these thoughts, and I was usually quite good at letting other people's judgements about me outside my head but... this time it was very hard.

Louis was something I always looked at as perfection in every possible way: his character, or at least what I thought he was like, his temper, his funny and sassy attitude but also his sweet side, his look, his features, and this obviously made his opinion on me of vital importance.

I would have been a fool to deny that to myself, I knew it and I kind of hated it because I always tried so hard not to let people have a hold on me and being able to influence me, but Louis was something else: I would have done anything he asked me to.

 

Irene started her car and we headed to my place, so I could take mine and we would have enough space for the boys to come with us. We decided to keep in touch during the trip and talk by phone with headphones on, maybe we would be able not to panic again. It was pretty strange to take different cars but if this would help the boys not to be noticed outside the club, we were totally fine with that, I didn't want our night to end up being a disaster because of screaming and mobbing fans everywhere.

After half an hour of chatting and driving we were into the town: we ended our call because the traffic was much heavier, but we arrived in ten minutes at the boys' hotel. As I went parking, I felt a load on my chest again, a load that the drive and chat helped lighten but didn't remove; I checked myself in the rear-view mirror, I arranged my hair and got out.

Irene was pulling her dress up and we laughed at our own anxiety and excitement, looking like elementary school girls on a first date.

We crossed the road to get to the hotel, and a car passing by just behind us honked loudly: I usually showed my middle finger to the people in the car, but that time I was having troubles walking straight forward. Thanks God I had no heels on!

 

I texted Harry we were there and we stood outside waiting for them.

“I just don't think I'll be ok when they'll come out all well dressed and hot”

“Don't say that please”

 

My phone buzzed: Harry told me he was a little late, still having to dry his hair – and that could definitely take a long time –, but they would all be downstairs in five minutes.

I grabbed Irene's arm, we went close to each other trying to calm down one another, and we waited for them to arrive.

 

 

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