Innocence//l.s

Chapter Seven

Louis

Harry's at work.

Liam's out clubbing.

Ryan's out clubbing.

I have no friends.

I have Niall, but he's decided to fall off the face of the earth and not answer his phone which is a) rude, and b) offensive.

Doesn't everyone know that I need someone to pay attention to me at all times. This is a crucial fact about myself that everyone seems to have forgotten.

The only one that has an excuse is Harry, and it's because he's working. And maybe Zayn and Liam because they invited me to go with them, but as for Niall; this is unforgivable.

That whore.

I picked up my phone to call Niall once again, but received only his answering machine.

Which was a.) rude, and b.) offensive.

Does this mean I'm plagued with going out into public and actually talking to actual people? Because right now the most appealing thing would be to lay in this bed all day with Harry cuddling me. Possible straddling me. Possibly naked.

Yeah. Definitely naked.

There's something about knowing that he's a virgin that just really really makes me want to fucking wreck him.

Like really a lot.

"Hi Louis!!!" Niall's voice shouted through my apartment, him rushing into my room moments later.

"Oi, so you can't pick up the phone, but you can come barging into my house like you know me?"

"I do know you..." He blinked at me and flopped down on my bed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his puffy coat to the ground.

"Not well enough for me to let you smother my feet," I kicked his shoulder lightly, "What do you want peasant?" 

Okay; honestly I should probably feel very blessed that I have incredibly attractive friends who just hang around in their underwear all day and don't mind that I platonically ogle them and occasionally make remarks along the lines of 'Bro, you look hella fine today. I'd let you fuck me.'

But actually; they're all trash garbage.

"Lewis," he threw his head back, as if he were in terrible, dramatic agony.

"Don't call me that, Eugene," I cut the rest of his sentence off, earning an angry glare.

"I've decided what to do for your birthday," he tapped my thigh, "And it involves Harry,"

"How do you even know who Harry is?" I squinted at him, "You've only seen him once,"

"I've had words with Zayn and Liam," he nodded, "and we've all decided that you are very, very into the boy. So you deserve a big, lavish, Harry-esque party,"

"Whatever you do, please don't print his face out on the paper plates," I groaned, "When you did that in middle school when I had a crush on the Maths teacher," I trailed off, not wanting to get into it.

Long story short- they decided math class would be the loveliest time to whip out the paper plates with our tutors face on them, and slap cake out onto his perfectly chiseled jawline in front of everyone.