Louis Tomlinson Imagines

Oranges and Roses (Dirty)

Credit goes to the owner.

The record spun around and around on the player, a scratching noise filled the room, but I never moved from my spot on the chaise lounge where I was laying backwards, my back pressed against the seat and my legs hung up over the side. My curled hair tumbled down onto the floor and the baggy sweater was laying flat against my stomach and breasts, the lace of my panties peeking out from under the edge of the heavy wool. Each breath was squeezed in and pressed out. The scent of roses and oranges filled the apartment and they are what made it hard to inhale. Every intake filled my mind with memories of my best friend.

Alright. Maybe I was being a bit dramatic. But Louis Tomlinson is my best friend and he’d been gone for two months and I was just missing him a hell of a lot. We shared the apartment even though lately it had seemed to be more mine than his. But he was meant to be returning that day except now he’d texted to tell me that his flight had been delayed and he wouldn’t be getting back until late the next day.

The worst part of it all was that I’d been planning on finally telling him how I felt when he walked inside. I’d set out some strongly-scented roses on the table and prepared an orange and walnut salad with chicken, thus the orange scent from me peeling the oranges.

As soon as he’d texted to say that he wasn’t coming home yet, I’d put the salads into the fridge, put the record on, and collapsed onto the chaise after putting on one of his sweaters. Next thing I knew, the sun was filling the room with the golden-pink spectrum of sunset colors as it plummeted towards the horizon. I finally got up, took the record off, and went to my bedroom, flipping the light switch so the small chandelier hanging from my ceiling threw out light. I flung myself onto my bed, ready to just get Louis back home.

I drifted off to sleep but woke up a few hours later for some reason. I rolled over onto my back, rubbing my eyes and looking up into my doorway, if my brain hadn’t still been seventy-five percent asleep, I most likely would’ve screamed at the shadow standing in my doorway. I realized why I’d woken up then. He’d turned the light off, but my bedside candles still flickered from where I’d lit them hours ago. He stepped into my room and the candlelight flickered against his cheekbones.

“What were the flowers for?” He silently walked over to my bed, sitting down on the edge of my bed. I sleepily sat up in the bed, my back pressed against my pillows, and I drew my knees up to my chest. “Is that my sweater?”

He moved up the bed so that he was sitting right in front of me. “Don’t ask so many questions, Lou. I’m still sleepy.” I dropped my chin onto my knees. “But yes, it’s yours. I missed you.”

“And the flowers?” He asked, lightly touching his fingertips against my cheek. “Did you get a boyfriend while I was gone?” He laughed a little, but not seriously.

I lifted my face up. “Nope, still single. Why? Jealous?”

He scoffed, “Right.” But even as the words left his lips, his fingers trailed over my arms and to my hands, sliding between my fingers until we were essentially holding hands. “I should wake you up at two am more often. You look gorgeous like this.” My cheeks heated up with his words but they didn’t catch fire until he lifted one hand up to his lips and began kissing my fingertips gently. His lips left dots of fire up to my elbow and then he stopped, looking at the heavy sweater that was suddenly too hot.

I tugged it over my head, leaving me naked from the waist up. “Shit, forgot I wasn’t wearing a bra.” I bit my lip, but his eyes had lit up as he stared at my heaving chest. I shifted on the bed then, falling back onto the pillows, my legs still bent up between he and I. His grinning face appeared over them and he placed a gentle kiss on each of my knees before spreading them and settling his body there.