Dance 4

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Chapter 4: The Next Day

Louis P.o.v

I don't know why I agreed for Harry to take me home, because well...I honestly didn't know him like that. But I didn't want Zayn to cancel his plans with Perrie, he's been talking about her for the past week and he really missed her. So who was I to fuck up his plans, so I just let Harry take me. The bloke even held the door out for me to get in. I could tell that he was a bit embarrassed because his face was really red. I squeaked out a thank you before climbing inside his sleek mustang. Now I'm in his car, sitting quietly as he drove me to me and Zayn's flat. I was just carelessly looking out the window, my thoughts scattered. When Harry said something...asked me if I was alright. I looked over to him to see him watching me from the corner of his eyes.

"F...Fine just...some stuff going on." I answered quietly. He nodded his head at me before looking back at the road. After a while he started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, his red lips caught between his teeth.

"Well...um if you need...like talk or whatever I'm here...even though we just met but I mean you never know wh—I cut him off with a small giggle, because the way he was so flustered was probably the cutest thing I'd ever seen. It was nice that Harry was concerned, but it confused me as to why? I mean I've known him for what two hours now.

My face started to turn red, "Thank you Harry...um I'll keep that in mind." I replied as I looked down at my lap. I heard him laugh a bit nervously before giving me a smile, and I returned it because I noticed he had dimples.

So cute!

After a good five minutes Harry pulled up into one of the space in front of my flat. I grabbed my bag from the back and I made my way to open the door before a hand was on my shoulder. Turning back I saw Harry holding out a slip of paper, cocking my head to the side I stared at him.

"My number...just whenever...yah." he ended lamely. I stared at him for a good minute before taking the paper from his hands.

"Thanks I'll...text you later I guess." I said before getting out the car. I waved at him before opening the door and going inside. As soon as I did I went straight to the studio room. Now see before you start asking how in the hell you have a mini-studio in your flat when your only a college student...with no job no less.

Let's just say that Zayn's is really well off, like he get's anything he wants pretty much. So to make sure his life was as comfortable his parents bought him a three-bedroom flat, with two bathrooms, a nice kitchen, living and a sick ass balcony. Zayn and I have been friends since forever and when he asked me to room with him, I couldn't say no. However my favorite place was the studio, although it might've been small, it had mirrors, wooden floor and everything. It even had a small window in the far back, with a window seat. I usually sit there and stare out to the back where a lake is, and just think.

Zayn tells me that I need to stop thinking and 'brooding' and have some fun. But the thing is I used to be fun, all I ever did was party and drink, get fucked up like college kids do. But after the fall out with my dad, and the recent things going on with my mom, I'm just not up to it anymore. Running a hand through my hair I walked into the studio and turned the lights on. I smiled when I saw the mirrors lining on the wall, the bar in the far corner...now this...this is where I belong. Dancing is the one thing that keeps me going, I love hearing people say that I'm good dancer but it's not because I'm conceited or anything. It's just that I feel like I'm not as worthless as I thought I am, that I was put here for the sole reason to dance.

Changing my clothes quickly and rifling through my bag to get my shoes, I walked over and hooked my I-Pod up to the speakers. Pressing play I put it on shuffle, liking the way I can switch my moves by the different songs that play. The first song that came on was Lego House, and I personally love this one, such a perfect song to what I'm feeling right now.

Dance For Me ~Larry Stylinson~Where stories live. Discover now