Pawn (Louis Tomlinson AU)

Chapter 3

This stupid zipper made me wanna snap it off and shoot it three times into ash.

Too bad I had no brute strength to even make it move, nor a gun or even a lousy Nerf gun to shoot it out of anger. And considering all a Nerf gun bullet would do is bounce off and hit me on the forehead, I groaned.

For fuck's sake.

"Amelia!" I hollered at the top of my lungs, feeling my upper body gasp for oxygen underneath the tight dress. "Amelia? Amelia!"

"What?" I heard my sister shout from below, followed by the sound of thumping against the stairs.

My arms twisted in sideways directions with my hands scrambling and straining to reach the zipper, but all I felt was the smooth fabric of the dress (if you could even call it a dress). I needed help, or an air tank.

There was a giggle. "Need help?" Amelia asked humorously, leaning against the door frame with her newly done eyebrows raised. I scowled.

"Do I have to wear this? Would pleather jeans and a silk crop top be too casual?" I sneered sarcastically, a small part of me actually wanting to change into said outfit. It was much more comfortable, and even if the shirt was cropped, it'd still show less skin than this skimpy thing.

"I can't even pull the zipper up halfway." I admitted shamefully after shimmying out of the material. "Might've gained a few fat rolls."

Amelia sighed, "I guess pleather would be cute.. Go ahead."

I raised my fist into the air and jabbed it up, squeezing my eyes shut in victory with a cheesy grin. Yes, I thought. No dress.

But then I realized, I'd probably be the only one not sporting a short stacked dress with thick glossy heels. I guess there'll be a few girls with longer dresses on because their parents made them add the extra inches 'just in case', but I'm nearly positive that when they arrive they'll just scrunch the hem up to make it appear shorter, and sexier.

My conscience was in a duel between my daring side and my innocence. My daring side was screaming like a madman, saying to wear a dang dress and show off the legs I've been working for all year even if the dress makes me look twice as fat. My innocent side was saying in a smooth, delicate tone to cover up more, even if the newly thought of outfit is still a bit much, also adding that I'd rather have the attention off of me, not on.

And I couldn't help but agree: What guy at a party would want a girl whose legs are all covered?

True, true, my daring side agreed in defeat as I decided to go along with pleather instead.

My feet separated stacks of wrinkled clothes scattered messily along the floor and I trampled on socks and shoes to manage to my closet. Groping the knob, I opened the thick door and walked inside, hastily grabbing the outfit planned.

As I changed quickly, Amelia watched me, picking at her manicured nails every now and then. I, on the other hand, was actually having trouble sliding on smooth fabricated pants and buttoning it correctly without my skin getting pinched by the zipper.

How do these barely fit? Did I really gain a few? Marvelous. This is about as tight as the dress! Well.. not really.

"They look good on you." Amelia commented generously, a smile pulling at her lips. "A bit tight around the legs, but your stomach looks in shape. Have you been working out?"

At this, I nod proudly because for once, I've been exercising consistently as if it were a new hobby. And technically, it is. A trip to the gym twice a week never killed anybody, and honestly, it felt kind of good to let out steam and just work these muscles. It's not like I do anything else to stay healthy but sit on the couch and eat crisps.

Amelia laughed out loud, though, surprising me with her voice's strength. "You? Wait, wait, when did this happen? Have you seen your baby pictures? You were fat at age ten!"

Flashbacks from elementary school and when I'd get pushed around the hallways by itty eight year-olds flooded back to me, and I frowned. A tiny shove from a boy was like getting rammed into with a bull-dozer, and it affected me in ways I can't put together.

Yes, I was fat. To be fair, a ton of kids are a bit chubby at young ages. But apparently, for me, it was weird, freakish, and disgusting, as my classmates would say. Especially as I grew older, since usually, weight loss is apparent as years go by.

I knew they were only joking most times, but the thought of their undeveloped voices teasing me over and over again during snack time- when I'd eat more of a feast rather than a skimpy cheese stick- was just traumatizing.

I exhaled, blinking repetitively to make the memories vanish. They were still roaming about, but my mind had other things to worry about.

"Well, exercising means time away from Mum," I mumbled as I fiddled my way into the silky top. "Do you like hearing about her new boyfriend, Serge? 'Cause I don't."

"True," Amelia said with a grin. "but I think he's kinda hot. Like, who wouldn't like a guy who lives on the wild side?"

"Not me." I stated, smoothing out any wrinkles on the shirt. Traveling to my jewelry stands, I pushed on a couple of silver and gold bangles, adding a few earrings to match.

"Anyway, can we go?" Amelia asked with boredom etching across her facial expression. I nodded an okay, reminding her that Zoe's dad was going to pick us up.

Amelia didn't quite approve of a seventeen year-old's dad driving us to a hectic party at midnight, because first of all, it was "lame." Yeah, it's painfully lame, but she knows it's the only way I'll go to such a party.

Her dad kinda leans on the weird side, though. Everytime I go over to her house to study or hangout, Mr. Jones always peeps his head in to make awkward conversation with me; popping his collar every so often so I could take notice of his polka-dot printed button up that he sports every flipping time.

I always compliment him and his style choices, especially his prized zebra prints. Even though I cringe every time I see an animal on his shirts, shorts, or ties, I always manage to say, "I like your shirt, Mr. Jones," or something along those lines. It gives me brownie points.

Zoe's a good friend. And considering she comes from a super religious family with a totally dedicated father, it's rare that she'd be allowed to go to a party thrown by the sluttiest girls and horniest guys.

We waited around ten minutes, lounging on the couch. Amelia took the spare time as a chance to touch her nails up and coat them with a strengthening gel. I, on the other hand, made myself a ham sandwich with a bag of crisps.

I felt generous at the time so I offered Amelia a bite. She just looked at me and scowled, eyeing the ham, cheese and bread like it was moldy and unsatisfying to the taste buds. It was amazingly delicious to me, and it hit the spot.

Sadly, Zoe arrived right when I took my third bite. The horn honked twice, startling the both of us; Amelia squealing with happiness, and I frowning in disappointment.

Amelia leapt up with joy and ran out the door faster than I could count seconds. Meanwhile, I shoved the bag of crisps into my handbag with a snicker and slowly walked out the front door, my white sneakers scuffing against the gravel.

I put a smile on my face as I watched Mr. Jones roll his window down and squeeze his large rounded head out. He waved merrily, grinning with his set of crooked whites.

My eyes trailed down to his chiffon scarf that had small little shapes decorating the fabric. Lions. That's different. "Hi Mr. Jones, where'd you score that darling scarf?"

-

I LIED LOUIS WASN'T FEATURED IN THIS CHAPPIE. I decided that it'd be better to have Louis appear around the beginning of Chapter 4, since this chapter is so short. Sorry!

Be excited because hot, sarcastic Louis is comin' ;)

PLUS: CHAPTER 5 WAS JUST WRITTEN AND IT'S PRETTY GOOD. If I do say so myself.

Edited as of 6/15/14 (at four in the freaking morning, might I add).