justaninsomniacreader
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The first time I met Louis Tomlinson was only a few minutes after his boyfriend was trying to push his tongue down my throat. I met Harry Styles approximately five hours before that, at a stadium where he was giving his last LA show, and where I was supposed to meet my high school best friend, who at that time was in a public relationship with the ex-boy bander. I also had an article to write about the "popstar of the decade," with a rather tight deadline and my job on the line. Everyone, well, a few dozen paparazzo and journalists, thought that they would be having dinner together after the show. That wasn't the case. In fact when I got to the stadium Kalina was already gone. But let me start the story a few hours earlier.
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"(...) Just pointing out that Harry was the one who invited me to dinner and decided to order two bottles of wine with it. I didn't even know he was in a relationship," I argue.
"Cause you definitely wouldn't have done it if you knew," Louis scofs.
"Yeah, probably not."
"Sure, cause you are so "not like other girls" that you've never dreamed about fucking Harry Styles."
"I did not say that."