𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌, (louis partridge)

3 | that's all i know about her

LOUIS 🎧

monday, 5:21 pm

—

i had scared her off. she left me standing there.

but i did learn multiple things in a very (unfortunately) short interaction.

one, she knew who i was. that helped my self esteem a lot more than i care to admit. two, the way she batted her eyelashes made my knees buckle. three, her friend (i wasn't sure of her name), that girl is her number one. it was obvious. spencer walked past me to her coworker like i didn't exist. and lastly, four, i am a hypocrite.

because every single reason i came to paris vanished the second i saw her again. she's lethal.

man, who is she?

it's been seven hours. seven hours and i haven't stopped thinking about her.

where the hell did she run off to? i keep asking myself repeatedly if i really want to roll those dice and read into her that much.

i felt like i had to watch what i was saying around her— because i felt like she could take every word that came out of my mouth and morph them into an entirely different meaning than what i originally meant. and i'd be stupid enough to believe her if she did.

after she fled the scene— i made my awkward exit past her friend. she eyed me the whole time, it was intimidating. she wanted to know what i was doing — why i was talking to spencer. i got that just by the look in her eyes. i can't help but fear what she'd say to me if we have an actual conversation.

she'll probably give me a thousand reasons why spencer is too good for me and why she hates celebrities... probably something along the lines of celebrities thinking they can have whoever they want. then she'll break it to me that i can't have whoever i want.

well, spencer's friend, (i still don't know her name) i am not a celebrity. i am just a guy who got thrown into the spotlight against his will.

i am also just a stupid boy who finds your friend interesting.

i want to know her. i want to know her favorite color, i want to know her favorite song, i want to know her favorite book, i want to know if she prefers summer over winter or winter over summer, i want to know if she hates both and maybe prefers autumn. i want to know what she's doing in paris— her accent. she's not from paris. i want to know where she's from.

i want her to want to know about me too.

anyway. moving along, i've been trying to convince myself that i definitely one hundred percent should not... go back to shop.

it's a stupid idea, right?! stupid. stupid. stupid.

the cherry sign above the door was looking very vibrant this lovely evening. the sun was going down— the orange of the sun gave the cherries a vermillion tint.

as i walked in, the bell rang above me per usual. a couple of customers looked my way but quickly dismissed me when they realized i was just another customer.

spencer was at the register this time. she had her back turned to me.

it hits me suddenly that i was here for a third time with no excuse. the second time i walked into the shop— i really just wanted to see her again. of course the reason hadn't changed now— but it was a tiny bit pathetic.