Polite//l.s

Four

Louis pulled away. "You know, you're fairly decent at this for never having kissed anyone," he patted my thigh, "we're going to have to share the couch, since Zayn's taken to my bed," he walked to a closet, pulling things out of it.

I wanted to suggest I could call my driver, have him pick me up and take me home before my father gets too angry with me, but my mouth didn't want to form words; it was as if kissing Louis had left me breathless and incapable of connective thought. Any type of thought that could connect my brain activity to my actions.

"Help," Lou laughed, turning around with an armful of blankets and pillows.

Snapping out of my daze, I stood from the couch, helping Louis by taking the top half of the stack, "It might be a tad more comfortable if we just made a little bed on the floor," he suggested, dropping his half onto the ground in front of the couch.

"Or if you want! You could, um- you could take the couch and I could sleep in the floor if you would be more comfortable!" He hurried out before I could get a word in.

"I could rent a hotel for us?" I suggested, hoping he would agree. I needed to go out if I was going to stay somewhere besides my home. Needed pajamas, needed a proper bath.

"No you don't need to do that!" He shook his head.

Surely he's just being proper, he can't seriously prefer sleeping in the floor of his living room.

"I love hotels, but that'd be a waste of money," I set my blankets down as he spoke, "That way I wouldn't be able to spoon you,"

"Spoon me?" I wasn't familiar with the term, I asked; waiting for an explanation.

"Cuddle you?" His light laugh chimed through the space between us, "like, while we sleep," he finished with a bright smile, bending down to arrange the blankets into a make-shift bed. 

"Do you possibly have something?" I asked, hoping he had a replacement for my suit so I wouldn't ruin it by sleeping on the material.

"What? Like drugs?" He asked nonchalantly, "Sorry mate, but I don't do that,"

"No!" I gasped at his accusation, "I just wanted to know if you had clothes I could sleep in," I frowned at my tone, I hadn't meant to sound rude.

I opened my mouth to apologize, only to be cut short by Louis' laughter. "Should have told me!" He laughed, "I don't think I have anything that would fit you! I would ask Zayn for his sweats, but I don't think he'd give them up."

I bit my lip, running my hand down the expensive collar; probably feeling the quality material for the last time. My father would never let me wear a nice suit again if I ruined this one.

"Sleep in your boxers if you'd like," he continued setting up the blankets, "You are wearing underwear, right?"

I nodded, not sure how I felt about being naked in front of another person. I've never been exposed like that before.

Even on vacations when I was younger, my family took care to teach me that it was inappropriate for anyone to see me any less than fully clothed. 

We'd always wear scuba gear when swimming, full body suits to cover any imperfections we might have. My mother hasn't even seen my naked since I learned to dress myself at the age of four.

I thought it over; my father would obviously be able to tell if I had slept in my suit, but if I slept in the same bed as someone- not dressed, he wouldn't have to know. He wouldn't have further reason to be upset with me.

"Do you have a garment bag?" It'd be a shame if it was ruined.

"I'm the closet, just grab it," he ignored my actions, stripping himself down to his own underwear and laying out across the messily spread out blankets.

"You want me going through your things?" I turned and tried not to stare, it was becoming an increasingly more probably outcome that I was gay. The definition Louis and Zayn had given me matched the term 'Homosexual' better than the term 'gay'.

"I don't really mind it," he propped himself up on his elbows, giving me an even better view of his toned chest.

I turned away from him before what I was feeling could get worse. I felt like I couldn't breathe; my chest was tight, I felt too hot, and my arms felt weak, like they couldn't hold themselves up. I didn't understand it. I hated not understanding things.

I opened the closet door to the area Lou had pulled the blankets out of, reaching in to remove a cheap looking garnet bag. It was made out of plastic, but it would have to suffice for tonight. It was better than nothing.

Slowly removing my clothes, I placed each item on the back of Louis' couch; making sure each article was smoothed out before setting it out. I gathered hangers carefully, pulling the pressed shirt and jacket onto one and the pants onto another. Standing in my boxers and socks, I hesitated to walk to the other side of the couch.

Louis could probably see me from where I stood, but I didn't want to turn around and face his judgement.

He obviously didn't think the same way about being undressed in front of someone else, he himself was in only his underwear.

Sighing, I realized I had to stop standing here like an fool. I bent down to remove my socks and tuck them neatly into my shoes; Thankfully, my feet hadn't been all to dirty so my socks wouldn't be to horrid to put on in the morning.

Louis whistled as I finally joined him on the bundle of blankets. I silently hoped I wouldn't absolutely hate the feeling of the cheap material against my skin as I sank down next to him.

"You're unbelievably hot," he hesitantly put his hand on my chest, as if he were asking permission.

"I don't know how to respond to that," I didn't want to push his hand away, so I didn't. Instead I climbed under the covers, letting him press his entire body against mine.

Louis laughed at my response, "figured," he muttered wrapping his arms around me.

He must of felt me tense because he let go of me and looked up, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No! Absolutely not!" I spoke as loudly as I thought I could without disturbing Zayn, "I just have no clue what I'm doing," my extensive education didn't help one bit in the real world. It made me wonder if, at all, my father was actually setting me up for success or not.

I would confront him about it, but that wouldn't be very polite.

(A/N: I hate myself for moving this so quickly. BUT I THINK ITS DECENT SO IM JUST GOING TO TAKE A CHONCÈ)