Later that night, I toss and turn but the image of Louis standing at my door keeps me awake. The chances are slim, but what if he was actually going to tell me that he wanted me back? I know it's unlikely, but I latch onto the idea and find myself obsessing over it. Maybe I should just go talk to Louis.
I roll out of bed, get dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, grab my mom's car keys off the kitchen counter, and quietly start for the garage.
"Harry? Where are you going?" my mom asks, padding into the kitchen wearing a bathrobe and slippers.
"Um, nowhere in particular?" I try.
"I'd really feel a lot better if I knew where you were going," my mom says. It's not a statement. It's a demand for me to tell her.
"I'm going to see Louis," I mumble.
"Oh," my mom says. "Oh. Well okay then. Have fun."
I nod, embarrassed, and head out. My heart thuds in my chest and my brain is telling me I should turn back, that I shouldn't do this, that I should give up on him. But my heart is telling me otherwise, telling me to do this now before I lose my chance. My heart wins.
I don't pull into the driveway as to not wake anyone up. I park a little ways down the street and make my way to Louis' house. When I get there, I go out to the back of the house and look up at Louis' window. The only possible way to get his attention would be to throw something. In movies they throw rocks, but I don't have the money to pay for a broken window right now.
I look around for something to throw, but come up empty-handed. Finally, I choose a small pebble and toss it lightly at Louis' window. At least I hope it's Louis' window. I would imagine that he's staying in his old bedroom while he's here, but he could be sleeping in another room.
I'm about to throw another pebble when the curtains part and I see Louis standing at the window, sleepy-eyed and adorable. He looks surprised when he sees me, but he reluctantly opens his window anyway.
"It's two in the morning, Harry," he says, rubbing his eyes groggily.
"Sorry," I say. "This couldn't wait."
"What is it?" Louis asks. Part of him seems intrigued but another part of him seems wary. I don't blame him. I would feel the same way if he showed up at my house at two in the morning.
"What were you going to tell me yesterday?" I ask. "I need to know. Please."
Louis sighs. "Hold on a second," he says. "I'm coming outside." I nod and wait patiently. A minute later, Louis appears through the back door and walks over to me. He makes sure not to stand too close to me, though.
"I was going to tell you how I feel about you," he says and folds his arms across his chest.
"I know that," I reply, exasperated. "What I want to know is...well. How do you feel about me?"
Louis plays with the strings on his hoodie and stalls. "Well, um. You know, um."
"No, I don't know," I respond. "I can't read your mind Louis! You've been like this since the day we met. Scared to tell me too much, like at any moment the police are going to come for you and I'll be dragged in for questioning because I know things about you. Why don't you trust me? Have I done something to you that makes me seem untrustworthy? Tell me what I did, because I don't know. Why do you hate me?"
Louis looks taken aback by my urgent tone and aggressive stance. "Harry, I could never hate you," he whispers.
"Don't you?" I continue, on a roll now. "If you hate me, please just tell me so I can keep that in mind. I don't understand what I've done to deserve this treatment from you, but I love you, Louis. You're the only person I've ever loved in my whole life! You're the only person that matters to me! I expected you to welcome me with open arms and maybe that was expecting too much, but I certainly expect this. At least give me a chance!"
Louis' eyes dart from mine to the ground and back to mine again. "I'll give you a chance," he replies after what seems like an eternity. "After all, you gave me one."
"Louis, are you seeing someone else?" I demand, trying to keep my tears at bay.
"It was one time," Louis says, his eyes pleading with me. "I'm so sorry."
"Am I not good enough for you?" I ask, angrily brushing away a stray tear that slides down my cheek.
"No, you're all I could ever want," Louis responds, taking a step closer to me.
I back away. "Then why?"
"Because sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you," Louis cries. "You're so perfect and loving and God, when I compare myself to you, frankly it makes me feel like a horrible boyfriend."
"Why are you comparing yourself to me in the first place?" I say, confused.
"I don't know," Louis says, shrugging. "It's a bad habit."
"I'll give you a chance," I say slowly, "but if you break my trust again, you'll be out of chances. For good."
Louis nods. "I love you Harry," he whispers. "I do."
I step forward and embrace him. "I love you too," I reply, burying my face in his soft brown hair.
"You're giving me a chance?" I repeat, stunned.
"Yes," Louis says. Then he smiles mischievously. "Don't make me regret it."
I smile too. "You won't."
"You won't," Harry tells me, grinning.
Just then, an idea hits me like a ton of bricks. "What are you doing for Christmas?" I ask.
Harry shrugs. "Nothing. Staying at home. Why?"
"My mom's coworker was supposed to go on a vacation with her husband, but it got cancelled last minute, and they still had their plane tickets. They gave them to my mom. She wasn't going to use them, so they're just laying around my house and they're going to go to waste if no one uses them. Do you want to go to Paris with me?"
"Seriously?" Harry says, his green eyes widening in shock.
"Seriously," I reply, and I can't help but laugh at the overjoyed expression Harry has on his face.
"I'd love to go," Harry gushes.
"Well it's settled then," I say. "We're leaving in a week."
Harry says he's going to head home, and I go back up to my room and fall into bed. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing to invite Harry to Paris with me, but hey, who else was I going to go with? Maybe it can be a fresh start for me, for us.