My Brother's Best Friend | One Direction (13+)

The name's Amber. Amber Tomlinson. Yes, I'm the sister of Louis Tomlinson, the biggest player in school. That's about all I'm known for, and all I'm seen as. Although I'm attractive, I've never had a boyfriend. Wanna know why? Because Louis tells all of the guys to stay away from me, even his best mate, Harry. Louis says I'm "too nice" for my own good. And Harry . . . well, Harry's even worse. He's the most arrogant, egotistical player I've ever met. And he flirts with me constantly! I could kill him sometimes.

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1. Real Smooth, Styles

 


 

"Amber, would you put the drinks in the fridge?" my brother, Louis, called out, not taking his eyes off the TV screen as my best friend and I walked in through the door, my arms full of grocery shopping bags. We were having another one of his knockout parties tonight, much to my dismay, and he'd made me go out and prepare for it while he sat on his lazy ass. He was in the living room, playing video games with his best mate, Harry.

"Okay," I sighed, rolling my eyes and dragging my best friend, Pietra, to the kitchen. As usual, she chirped a flirty hello to Louis and Harry, and they only grunted in reply, too wrapped up in Call Of Duty to care. Despite her gorgeousness, Pietra was in this house so often that neither boys payed her much attention.

The same couldn't be said for Pietra. She squealed as we made our way into the kitchen, setting her bags down, barely able to contain her excitement. She leaned against the counter and sighed dreamily, fanning her face. 

"I think I just died," she told me, hopping on the counter and grinning. "You're so lucky, Amber. You get to have the hottest guy in school as your brother and his gorgeous best friend as, like, your bodyguard." 

I stifled a giggle as I picked up the beers from the counter and placed them in the fridge. My long dark hair fell into my eyes, and I brushed it back with my fingers, turning to her with an amused look on my face. "Pietra, what drug are you on? You've seen my brother outside of school, he's a total asshole, same with Harry. And Harry's not my bodyguard."

"Still, I'd kill to be in your position." Pietra flushed and ran her hands along the counter. "I mean, come on. Surely it's not a little awesome?" 

I leaned against the fridge and laughed. "Not at all. Actually, Pietra, I think you're the lucky one."

Countless people have  asked me what it's like to have Louis Tomlinson as a brother. I mean, think about it. It would seem awesome on the outside, right? He's the most popular guy in school, knows how to throw the best party, and is the best athlete in the whole country of England. Not to mention, most girls think he's extremely hot. Not me, though. For God's sake, he's my brother. And most people don't know this, but he's a total ass. 

For one thing, he's extremely arrogant. Just because everyone likes him doesn't mean he has to walk in the school doors like he owns the place, for Christ sake. Besides that, he's a total player. It's disgusting. He's got a new girl draped all over him every weekend. 

But that's not really why I hate him. I hate him because he's so controlling and protective of me. He's always telling me what and what not to wear, how to act, and to top that off, he tells all his friends to stay away from me so I have no one to date. He says he'll beat up anyone that ever tries to come near me, even Harry, his equally annoying best mate, who hits on me constantly. And believe me when I say I know he won't break that promise. He's already done so twice. 

I guess ever since Dad died, he's wanted to protect me, fill in the roll that Dad couldn't. But I'm not a little girl anymore. I don't need his help. I'm sixteen, for God's sake. I just want to live my life. 

Don't think it's not all bad having him as a brother. There are times when I feel like I'm the luckiest girl in the world. He can be really supportive, offering me advice and helping me with my homework and stuff. Sometimes he'll just give me hugs out of the blue. And when Dad died, he was the only one who really made me feel better. Well, Harry did too.

Speaking of Harry, he sauntered into the kitchen just then, looking like a freaking supermodel. Of course. His dark hair was perfectly tousled into messy curls, and his eyes were the greenest I'd ever seen them. He wore a black T-shirt that purposely showed off his muscles, and you could see hints of tattoos peeking out. He wore low-slung jeans with a spiked belt, and you could see the tiniest hint of his red boxers. 

"Hello, ladies," he smirked, and immediately Pietra's eyes widened.

"Hey, Harry," she purred, looking at him through her long eyelashes. He winked at her, and her cheeks flushed red. As soon as Harry looked away, she mouthed the words so fucking hot in my direction. I rolled my eyes. Sure, Harry was sexy, but his personality sure as hell wasn't.

As if to prove my point, he sauntered right up to me and ruffled my hair. "Hey, Dots," he teased, using the nickname he'd given me in seventh grade when he and a bunch of other losers broke into the girl's locker room and saw me in my matching polka-dotted panties and bra. That nickname got me so furious, every single time, and he knew it. I gasped, incredulous, and slapped him on the chest. 

"I told you not to call me that," I said, narrowing my eyes. He just laughed arrogantly, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he bumped me out of the way of the fridge with his hip, almost sending me to the floor. I stumbled a little like the ridiculous klutz I am, and he just laughed harder, grabbing a Coke from the top shelf and slamming the fridge door before leaning up against it. 

"Why so clumsy, Ambs?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Falling for me?" He laughed a little at his own joke, while I glared at him with my hands on my hips.

"Very funny, Styles," I retorted, unable to think of a better comeback.

 "Only because you pushed me out of the way," I continued, still glaring at him. "That's bordering on harassment, you know." I was only half-joking, but I really was sick and tired of his stupid games. He knew I had a disadvantage and he set me up.

"Please, Dots. We all knew you liked it." He winked at me and I sucked in a breath of exasperation. 

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Like I'd like your man-whore hands all over me. That's it; I'm not listening to you anymore." I pushed past him and began putting the rest of the food out for tonight's party on the little kitchen island. I could feel his eyes roaming all over my body, and I closed my eyes for a minute, breathing a sigh of exasperation. When I turned around, he was up on the counter with a clear view of my booty. 

"Are you done?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Done with what?" he asked, feigning confusion.

"Please. Like you don't know!" I threw my hands in the air, annoyed. He just chuckled, and will a roll of my eyes I turned around and poured some crisps into a bowl. I could feel his eyes checking me out once more. I bit my lip and turned around again. This time I caught him, which was surprising. He quickly glanced away, and this time it was my turn to smirk. 

"Smooth, Styles, very smooth," I countered, with a wicked smile on my face. 

"What?" he asked, doing a good job masking his guiltiness.

"You know." I waggled my eyebrows.

He threw his head back and hooted. "Please, Amber. I know you love me, and you're quite the hottie yourself, but there's no need to get paranoid over me. Is the insane crush you have on me giving you delusions?" 

I nearly dropped the juice I was pouring. Some of it spilled onto the counter, and a flush rose in my cheeks. "What?" I demanded, turning around to face him. My fists clenched in anger. He could be an asshole. He could push me out of the way. But he could not, I repeat, could not, call me delusional. 

I really hated that word.

"Delusions?" I repeated. He nodded, smirking again. I stepped towards him threateningly. "Um, that would be you," I snapped. "Not every girl likes you, you know. You don't have to act like you're the shit just because you've screwed practically every girl in the school." 

"Except you," he purred, looking me up and down with an evil glint in his eyes. "I could change that for you, you know." 

I looked away. "I can't believe you, Styles." I was still pissed off about the fact that he called me delusional. And he was hitting on me now, too. Jesus Christ, when would it end? 

He hopped off the counter and crossed the floor to the island, digging his hands into the bucket of crisps. I slapped his hand away before he could grab any. "For Christ's sake, Harry, save it for the party. I don't know where your hands have been." 

He shoved me playfully, and I chuckled, unable to hide my smile. Harry was a player, all right, and he could be an egotistical jerk, but he wasn't all that bad. I'd known him long enough to know that. He knew when to draw the line, at least. This was his way of apologizing, I could feel it.

"Sorry for calling you delusional," he muttered, staring at the floor. My eyes widened. Holy crap, did I just hear what I think I heard?

"Excuse me?" I asked, half-shocked. This wasn't like him at all. "Did I just hear Harry Edward Styles apologize to me?" He laughed. "All right, where is the real Harry and what have you done with him?" I demanded. He shook his head, amused. 

"Oh, so when I'm actually nice to you, like the decent human being I am, you think I was like abducted by aliens or something?" he retorted, holding my gaze. 

"Not aliens," I protested, unable to hide my smile.

"Well, don't you have something to apologize for?" Harry asked after a beat, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Like what?"

"Like calling me a man-whore, perhaps?" He cocked his head, his green eyes sparkling. 

I sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "Fine, I'm sorry I called you a man-whore." I looked into his eyes, and his green orbs seemed to capture mine. "Honestly." 

"Thank you," he said, and I could tell he meant it.

For some reason I couldn't tear my gaze away from his, like a magnet was between us or something. I didn't blink. I didn't breathe. It was like I was in a trance. 

Not that l liked him or anything. Ew. Not at all. There was nothing romantic about this moment. 

But for some reason, we were having a stare-down, and I liked it. 

A small whisper of a smile played across his lips.

"You blinked," he said. 

"Did not."

"Did too." 

All of a sudden, we heard the sound of Pietra clearing her throat just as Louis walked in. The moment, whatever it had been, was broken.

"Flirting with my little sister, Hazza?" Louis remarked. His tone was joking, but there was a layer of malice underneath. He stared at both of us, and suddenly I was aware of the little space Harry and I had between us. 

Harry just laughed, like it was no big deal. I tore my gaze away from Harry's and stepped slightly away, hoping the crappy lighting in the kitchen would hide my blush. Why the hell was I blushing? It's not like I got caught in the act or anything. And more importantly, it wasn't as if I liked Harry... in that way. 

"Lou, can you please tell Harry to stop digging his hands in the chips?" I whined, slapping Harry's hand again as he dug his fingers into the bowl for like the umpteenth time." 

"Nobody eats them anyway, it's all about the beer." Louis dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. 

I groaned. "Don't remind me. Practically everyone gets wasted at your parties. God, I'm sick of it." 

"God, I'm sick of it," Louis mimicked, shooting me a lopsided grin. I gasped, faking horror that he'd just mocked me, and got up on my tip-toes to ruffle his hair, which was just a shade lighter than mine.

We looked a lot alike in many ways: he was taller, but we were both taller than average. We both had crystal blue eyes and mischievous smiles, and even our personalities were similar.

Everyone at school called Lou the "sass master" because he was extremely sassy and had a lot of feist in his personality. I had an equally strong one too, and maybe that's why we argued so much, because although we were both opinionated, we had different opinions. Basically, both our strong personalities clashed. 

Of course, Lou's personality also got him into fights at school. Although he could be funny, he could snap from joking and laughing to threatening to punch someone in the face in an instant. That was only when someone pissed him off and pushed his buttons, though. A lot of guys were afraid of him, so when he told them to stay away from me, they knew he meant it. 

"Stop mocking me," I whined, stomping my foot like a little kid. Louis and Harry exchanged amused glances and then in complete unison stomped their feet and flipped their hair, completely over-exaggerating the way I had acted. 

"Oh, please. Grow up, assholes." I rolled my eyes, stormed over to Pietra, and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the kitchen so we could prepare for the party. I'd had enough male testosterone for a while.

 

 

 

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