Feel Again (Louis Tomlinson)

{Book 3 - COMPLETE} All Marley Pennington wanted to do since her freshman year of high school was to turn her life around. To be someone she always wanted to be, and when she gets her dream job, everything seems to be headed in the right direction.
But Louis Tomlinson is another story. He's alone, afraid, and just wanting everything to go back to normal, before everything was ruined. Marley, a well-liked and cheery person tries to change Louis' look on life and love.

"Yeah with you
I can feel again
I'm feeling better ever since you know me
I was a lonely soul but that's the old me"


8. Louis

Chapter 8 - Louis

"I don't even know why we have to be here," I basically whine to Lou and everyone around me. Why can't this person just do the hair and whatever they're going to do on someone else?

"We need to see if she can do hair on the people that are going to be showing it off, that's you." Lou answers and I don't reply.

When the time comes the last person I expect to see is Marley. Seriously? Of all the people? I know she wants to be a stylist; she told us. That's great and everything, but I just don't want her around. After we went to that café, her story about her friend just will not leave my head. And it's really damn annoying.

When Marley walks over here the lads are all talking to her, and they seem to be getting along. Whatever. I don't even know why they like her, we already have a solid group. I mean yeah, Marley's fit, and nice, and funny...but that's besides the point, right? Her accent and her perfect appearance is a major turn-off.

When she is doing my hair I can feel her staring at me, a part of me wants to talk to her but I ignore it. I just stare straight ahead and let her do her job. This is an interview, right? As much as I don't want her touching me right now, I don't react because if the roles were reversed, I would want to do my best with this is order to get the job I really want.

"Done, let's go over to wardrobe." Marley says and we all follow her, immediately shedding out clothing. Her eyes widen at the sight of us stripping. I roll my eyes. This will be part of her job, she should really be more mature about it. Zayn and Niall stifle a laugh.

I don't really pay attention, just nod and put on whatever she gives me. I have to admit, this is nice, I like the outfit she's put together. It's not something I would normally go for, but it's cool but not too showy. Got to give her some credit right?

The boys praise Marley, and her cheeks heat up. I know I haven't said anything the whole time she's been here, but why would I? It's not like we're friends or anything. Right? I may have opened up to her and she may know some things that no one else does, but that doesn't mean we're going to have slumber parties every night. I don't want her thinking I want her around all the time, because I don't.

A little voice in the back of my head tells me that I'm lying. Alright, I know I am but who fucking cares? I certainly don't. I haven't cared about much since my breakup. It's been six fucking months and I'm still holding onto it. It sucks, really. It's pathetic and I hate it. Not just the fact that I look like a sissy but I also hate the fact that I'm still dwelling on something that I shouldn't. It happened a long time ago, I'm mad at myself for not moving on. I have moved on in a good way; I don't want to be with Eleanor anymore, obviously, but it still haunts me at night. And I hate it, I hate it more than anything.


I half-expect the lads to ask me if something is wrong after we leave, but they don't. Every day they've been asking less and less frequently if I'm doing okay. Although I give them the same answer every time, "I'm alright," or "I'm fine," it still hurts a little that they don't seem to give a shit. Even if I wasn't going to give an honest answer it still stings a bit to know that they don't care as much as they used to.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask all of them before I can change my mind.

"Of course," Liam answers. "What's goin' on?"

"I... You never ask how I am anymore." I know I sound like a baby but I don't care.

"Of course we care Louis," Harry frowns. "You just never really answer or want to talk about it. You never did."

"I know," I sigh. "It's not something I want to talk about, but you lads not asking isn't really making me feel any better about the situation."

"No worries, mate." Zayn smiles. "We'll keep asking."

"Yeah, and if you ever want to talk, don't feel shy. We've wanted to talk to you about it forever but since you always keep to yourself and never talk to anyone about what happened..." Niall trails off.

"I have talked to someone." I blurt.

"You have?" Harry asks, eyes wide.

I run a hand through my hair and over my face. "Yeah. When I was hung over Marley sort of took care of me and...we talked. About stuff."

Liam smiles at me. "That's good."

"How did it feel?" Harry asks.

I frown at the smiles and hopeful looks they're giving me. It's weird. "I don't know...she was really listening and she was nice to me, although I didn't give her a reason to."

"She probably fancies you." Niall says.

"No she doesn't." I snap immediately. I don't want her to.

"How do you know?"

"She just doesn't." I proceed to look out the window. If Marley liked me I would run away and hide in my bunk and never come out. Since Eleanor, I've never gone on a date, never tried to have something serious with a girl, and the thought of being in one with Marley makes bile rise in my throat.

"If she likes you you're lucky, mate." Zayn sighs.

"What?" My head snaps in his direction. "New topic please." I don't know what it is, but something about Marley and Zayn makes my stomach turn more than the thought of her and I.


It's my fault. It's all my fault. I did something terrible. I don't know what it was, but why else would she break up with me? Sitting here at the bar, feeling my adam's apple move up and down as I take shot after shot after shot, I wrack my brain trying to pick apart the remains of the relationship I had six months ago. What did I do? I must have done something, right? Why else? I never cheated, I didn't do anything to hurt her, it's not fucking fair.

What person goes to a bar to get drunk at 12:30 in the morning alone? I don't even know what I'm doing here. All I know is that this fuzziness in my head from the alcohol is better than the pain in my chest and in my head from being so helplessly clueless. Is that why I am single still? Is it because I don't even try? Because I don't. I don't try. I can't remember the last time I did, with anything besides my job. I love my job, I love it so much and there isn't anything I would do to jeopardize it.

The lads are probably aren't even wondering where I am. We got a few hotel rooms because we are staying here until we know if Marley got the job or not. I think it's pretty dumb that we're holding off moving on until she knows if her "dreams are coming true" or some shit but apparently we need her on this team. Mr. McNeal really seems to like her, and he's going to call her tomorrow with an answer.

I take another shot. I lost count of how many I've consumed after five. We have an interview tomorrow but it's not until four in the afternoon, so I push all thoughts of irresponsibility out of my head and focus on the brown liquid in the small glass in front of me.

What am I doing here? I'm pretty sure I am the only one here by himself. No one's talking to me, not that I would want them to, but the fact that the two stools next to me aren't occupied make me feel lonelier than usual. It's gross.

I pay for my drinks and stumble out of the bar. I walked here; it's only two blocks. My feet carry me back to the bus, I expect to see everyone asleep in their bunks, but I don't. It's empty. Confused, I pull out my phone and check my text messages. I have to blink a few times to make sure I'm reading it correctly. I see that Liam texted me an hour and a half ago.

We're going out, be back late. Don't wait up. 

I sigh and throw my phone on the couch. Just as I am about to crash on the chair, my attention is caught my the sound of someone crying in the next room.

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