Doncaster [Louis Tomlinson]

22: What Do You Think? [Part 1]

6,800 words. Thank me later. I'm exhausted. 

--------------------------------

With my eighteenth birthday fast approaching, I decided a little celebration should be in order. I wanted something small; not a Facebook party which starts off as twenty people and ends in two hundred.

            Since my birthday fell on a Saturday I already had a chance to jubilate the occasion with my new circle of friends the preceding Friday during school hours. Someone bought a container stocked with delicately iced cupcakes and we spent the afternoon relishing my last day as a seventeen year old by singing song lyrics that would no longer be valid tomorrow, such as ‘you are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen’ and ‘well she was just seventeen, do you know what I mean?’

            Louis even made an appearance to wish me a happy birthday in case he didn’t get to see me tomorrow. The girls all eagerly invited him to sit and join our circle but he declined, explaining that he had a close game of deathball (basically football on steroids) to get back to. 

            Now that it was Saturday the plans I had made were ready to take practise. Leigh, Avery and Jade were going to drive over with their sleeping bags and pyjamas and we were going to have a proper sleepover. With movies, and endless supply of sugary snacks, magazines and all the trimmings. t was the kind of party to be hosted by a soon to be eight year old, rather than a soon to be eighteen year old, but that was kind of what I was aiming for; to have a cheesy, stupid and even ironic coming of age party alternatively to the standard and predictable ‘everybody get pissed’ party. Louis was also going to try to stop by whenever possible. He had football practise for his upcoming grand final and couldn’t let his team down, so he was probably going to drop by later rather than sooner. I’d invited him to stop by because 1) he was kind of my boyfriend and 2) it served as a perfect opportunity for the girls to meet him.

            I hung a wide variety of coloured streamers while my mum flipped through a house and garden magazine.

            “Did I mention I’m going to be out late tonight?” she parleyed, eyes never flickering from the small print of a design article.

            “Yes. About,” I paused to count all the occasions on my fingers “six times.”

            Mum didn’t reply; just continued to read her article with utmost attention. I huffed in annoyance as I stuck another yellow streamer to the very height of the wall.

            When I reintroduced mum to dad, I retreated to my room as soon as the words parted from my lips. I didn’t want to interfere with anything, so I let the two of them work things out themselves. I didn’t hear a slamming door a few seconds later, so I figured things weren’t going downright horribly, but they actually turned out better than expected.

            The night following I caught her putting in her most treasured pair of earrings; a sight I’d never seen before. It turned out that she was going out on a date with dad, and that the two had both agreed to see each other again, but cautiously. I quite liked the idea of it. A do-over -- pretending they were meeting for the first time.

            Many streamers and magazine page turns later, the doorbell rang. I dropped the roll of sticky tape I had clasped in my fingers and dismounted the small step ladder, feeling a dose of excitement bubble inside me.

            There was a spring in my step as I approached the door. It could’ve been the sheer fact that it was my birthday, or just the initial excitement of seeing friends who I don’t get to see every day.