“quit pretending you don’t like me, love.” he’d say in the cockiest tone he can manage. it must come naturally to him. “sure. keep telling yourself that, popstar.” you’d snap back. you’re sick of this game with louis. you don’t know how you keep ending up around each other but you wish it wouldn’t happen. “oh come on, babe, you don’t really think you’re hiding it. do you?” “hiding what, louis?” he laughs at that giving you his signature smirk. “oh come on. i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice. i see you blush when i compliment you or introduce you to people. i know that you like when i sing in the car. you like me, just admit it.” you’re a bit caught off guard. you can’t deny that louis fascinates you but he’s just so full of himself all the time. “you’re annoying.” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “and you want to kiss me.” and maybe he’s right but he doesn’t give you time to really think about that before his lips attach to your and now you’re kissing and you really don’t want to stop.