Louis was laughing happily in a bar, voice still a little scratchy, and comfortably cross faded.
He and the guys had been lucky enough to have a bit of a break between shows, and they just so happened to be in Tampa, so they spent the day lounging on a yacht just off the coast, enjoying drinks and a bit of weed, before they came back to shore to party for the night.
They had decided against going to one of the more exclusive clubs, mostly because they all spent the day out on the water, and none of them were willing to clean up and dress up to get in. Instead, with a bit of research, they found a hole in the wall spot that was full, but not packed, and most, if not all, of the patrons didn’t seem to know or care who he was.
He was sitting in a booth, facing the door, sipping on his Vodka Redbull when the door opened, and a small group of girls filtered through. They seemed to share his and his band’s sentiments, if not to a more extreme level, as he could still see the straps of their swimsuits under their still-damp clothes.
The girls were fit, but relatively unremarkable, so he tuned back into the story that Oli was telling. Oli had just gotten to the good part when they passed back behind his booth once more, and one of them caught his eye.
She wasn’t his type, really. He tended to go for the overly thin, leggy, model types for a one-off, and with his son and his tour, he hadn’t had anything deeper than that in a long while.
She was thin, sure, but in a sporty way, with strong, slim legs and a tight little ass that he took a moment to admire as she walked with her friends in search of a booth. Her hair was pulled on top of her head in a long, curly ponytail, and her skin was sunkissed, cheeks a little pink (from a sunburn or alcohol, he didn’t know).
She wasn’t really his type.
But something about her made the cogs in his intoxicated brain spin. There was something about her…
He stared, unabashedly for a moment (luckily without her noticing) before one of the guys took notice.
“Which one?” Michael asked, tipping his head in their direction.
“Oh,” Louis answered, dropping his eyes from her, and tracing the condensation from his glass that left a ring on the dirty table, “it’s nothing.”
“It’s obviously something,” he muttered back, squinting into the group, like that might help, “been staring for longer than you ought to.”
“One of them is just familiar, I think…” he trailed off, staring her down for a brief moment before it clicked.
“Shit! I got it!” He exclaimed, slightly too loud, “she was at the show last night, second row of seats, looked like she hated it.”
Luckily, the din of conversation in the room covered for his shouting.
More often than not, Louis didn’t fixate on one or a few people at his shows, but something about this girl had caught his eye enough to make him check back a few times, and she genuinely did not seem to be enjoying herself, like, at all.
He honestly didn’t have anything against her if she did hate it, or hate him, but something in him wanted to be a little shit. He wanted to go bother her and get to the bottom of it.
Louis moved to get up, but Michael stopped him, “Where are you going, asshole?” He asked, somewhat fondly.
“You just said she didn’t like you, mate.” Michael was a voice of reason. We all need friends like Michael.
Louis was, admittedly, a little drunk, but he got up anyways, and Michael didn’t actually stop him.
As he approached, she caught his eyes, and blinked a few times, seemingly trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
“Hello,” Louis led with, only to be met with silence, as she looked back to one of her friends desperately. Her eyes were brown, and it seemed that she had at least put on eye makeup to make her doe eyes pop before coming to the bar. It was light and simple, but it made her eyes hypnotic. Louis didn’t think brown eyes could be that enticing.
He waited patiently while the girls communicated silently before one of them pushed her towards him and walked away.
“I’ll go on if you want me to, love.” Louis said, taking a sip from his drink, “but I’d love to buy you a drink and find out why you didn’t like the show last night.”
Her already pink cheeks darkened a shade, and she nodded silently.
She truly hated him, but she wanted a free drink?
He was a bit confused (he’d blame it on the alcohol), but followed her to the bar like a lost puppy anyways.
“Hey D, what are you - what the actual fuck?!?” A girl leaning against the bar began to greet her before she spotted him.
Louis watched as the back of her head bobbed up and down silently.
This girl, it seemed, was a much bigger fan of his, as she gave him a beaming smile and reached her hand out around her friend, who she had called “D.”
“Louis,” she greeted, a little breathless, “my name is Eliza, it’s actually kinda crazy to meet you. We just watched you play last night.”
Louis took her hand in his and shook it for a moment, “I know.”
“You know?” She said, a little too loudly, “what the hell does that mean.”
“You guys were close, right? Just past the pit?”
Eliza’s cheeks flamed red, and the other girl, the one who initially caught his attention, used the distraction to slip away.
“So what brings you here?” He asked, tipping back his drink and swallowing the last bit. He waved at the bartender and pointed at his empty glass with a kind smile.
“Okay, sure…” the girl narrowed her eyes at him, “but I feel like I should be asking you that.”
“Smart girl,” Louis touched a finger to his temple, tilting his head to the side, “I’m here because I had a show yesterday.”
The girl laughed a little too loudly, “I know that. I was there, remember? What I meant was, why are you following D to the bar?”
“Oh,” Louis said, nodding to the bartender as he handed him another drink, “I just wanted to figure out why she didn’t like the show.”
Eliza’s reaction was almost comical. Her eyes widened, and she pursed her lips in a cartoonish manner. Louis was fairly certain that if she had taken a sip of her drink, she would have spit it on him.
“What the hell do you mean?”
She only paused long enough to turn and look at her friend before looking back.
“No. No. D’s just shy and has major crowd anxiety. She loved the show. She was one of the ones that really wanted to go. Paid for some of our tickets and all.”
“Oh.” Louis said, a bit dumbfounded. It made sense. Why would she have been so far up if she hated him. No way the tickets were cheap.
“She honestly doesn’t want to be here either,” Eliza tipped back her drink, “funny how all this worked out.”
Louis agreed, tapping the rim of his glass to hers gently, “too right, you are.”
They both watched her for a moment as she stood with their friends. She was smiling, only slightly, as one of their friends made a dramatic display of throwing darts at a dart board, “I’m gonna talk to her, yeah. At least apologize for judging her too quick.”
“Go easy on her, please.” Eliza said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “she really does love you, and if you’re an ass, it’ll ruin her more than most others.”
Louis was mock offended, pointing to himself, “me? An ass? Never.”
They laughed together for a moment before he more sincerely muttered, “of course I’ll go easy on her.”
She gave him a beaming smile as he walked over to where the girl, who’s name he still didn’t know… perhaps it was Dee?
“Slipped away from me there, love.” He announced his presence as he approached from behind. She turned to look at him, eyes wide and a bit panicky.
“Can we talk?” He made sure to keep his voice as quiet as he could, gentle, approachable.
The longer he was in her presence, the more he felt like he was unprepared to handle whatever mental turmoil she had going on. She reminded him a bit of a flighty deer, or maybe a rabbit.
So he didn’t expect what happened next. He didn’t expect a small, cool hand to be thrust in his direction with the silent command of, “follow me.”
Despite his better judgment, he took her hand, and glanced back at his group one more time before following her out the door of the bar.
He halfway expected for her to stop there, with the night air blowing around them, but she didn’t. Keeping his hand in hers, and staying half a step ahead, she led him on a quick, albeit questionable, walk.
They passed through an alleyway, and between some fences that he was almost certain was private property, before he found himself on a quiet beach.
She paused to take off her sneakers and socks, picking them up and holding them in her hand before stepping into the cold sand.
Honestly, the sea at night was not one of Louis’s favorite things. What was once a beautiful, shimmering blue-green, was now an angry, churning of inky black.
She dropped to the ground, sitting in the sand and pulling her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them and rested her head on her knees as she looked up at him, a bit wide eyed.
Louis stood, probably looking stupid, for a moment before he joined her, looking out at the water.
There was a silence between them, for a minute or two. It probably would have been uncomfortable, if not for the weed and alcohol in his system. At the present, he was happy to sit next to a pretty girl on the beach.
After a bit, she spoke, voice hesitant and barely audible over the waves, “I didn’t hate the concert. I promise.”
And, God, did Louis feel like a dick.
“I know, love,” he attempted to soothe, “your buddy sorted it all out for me.”
He watched out of the corner of his eye as she deflated, body relaxing, grabbing a fistful of sand and allowing it to slip between her fingers.
“So, tell me about you, then,” he keeps his voice light.
He doesn’t know why, but he wants to talk to her. He wants her to feel comfortable in his presence.
She lets the shortest giggle escape her lips before meeting his gaze very seriously, “You cannot be asking me that.”
“What do you mean, love?”
“You are a rockstar. You have performed with the biggest boy band of all time. You have played venues all over the world. Shouldn’t you be telling me about yourself?”
It was the most words she had managed to string together, and it was sass. Louis was proud.
“That’s precisely why I want to know about you. You already know about me.” He paused for a moment, and when she didn’t speak, he prompted, “Start with your name.”
It seemed that all of the attitude drained out of her body and was replaced with nerves once more. Louis wanted to touch her - to calm her down in some way. In any other world, he wouldn’t be able to, but in the darkness, with the sound of the waves hitting the shore, he reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her into his side.
She was stiff in his hold, but he didn’t relent, muttering a ‘keep going’ as he rubbed his tattooed hand up and down her bicep.
She was in school, college, in the area, but was from another state. She didn’t allude to which, but Louis was fairly certain it was one of the southern ones based on her light accent.
She liked dogs, which Louis made sure to congratulate her on. Her favorite color was yellow, and Louis’s concert was the second concert she had been to.
The longer she spoke, the more she relaxed against him, and it felt good. Louis didn’t often like to admit that he wasn’t the biggest or strongest bloke around. Often, girls were about the same size as he was, but Delilah was quite petite, fitting perfectly against his form.
There was something about this girl, Louis thought, gazing into the night with a comfortable silence falling over them. She was relatively unremarkable. Sure, pretty enough, with killer hair, but she was just generally average. And it was a breath of fresh air. It felt like forever since he had met a girl that reminded him of home. But something about this girl did.
A girl in Tampa, Florida, of all places. A girl who could not be further from home. But for some odd reason, she felt a bit like home.
Louis had no idea how long they sat in the sand. He should have pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked, but he wasn’t willing to do anything that would disturb the precious bubble of peace that he had managed to find.
It wasn’t until she was shivering against him, the cool mist coming off of the sea doing nothing to help, that he decided that it was time to make their way back to the bar. He was certain that Oli was probably losing his shit looking for Louis, and he could only hope her friends were looking out for her.
“Okay, love,” he said, breaking the tentative silence, and giving her one more squeeze, “we should probably get you back to your friends.”
He reluctantly took his arm back and stood, offering a hand to help her stand.
When she stood, eyes sparkling in the light of the moon, Louis was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her.
Quick. Just to see what it would be like.
But it had been a while since his last drink, and he had sobered up a bit.
And, with a sinking feeling, he knew. This was it. He would never see sweet Delilah again, and it wouldn’t be fair to her to do that. It wouldn’t be fair to make her think that there would ever be anything between them, even if she did brighten his mood substantially as the evening went on.
No. Instead of following his instincts, he pressed the softest kiss to her forehead, and clutched her hand a little too tightly as she showed him the way back to the bar.
When they got there, Oli was outside, pacing frantically as he made calls. As soon as he saw the pair coming towards him, he shook his head, said something into the phone, and hung up.
“Where the hell have you been?!” Oli scolded, “we have to be on the road in an hour!”
Louis just shrugged and let go of Delilah’s hand, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.
She seemed to be struggling too, though, as she gave him a forced, closed lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and started walking down the road.
A better man would have made sure she made it home safe.
A better man would have gotten her number so he could check on her in the morning.
Louis was pretty quiet for the rest of the night, even after they had boarded the bus, and were traveling at about 70 mph down the interstate. He sat quietly, nursing a mug of chamomile tea (which he honestly thought tasted terrible, but he needed to sleep).
When Oli asked what happened, he didn’t tell him. Delilah was his now. His own little secret that would stay tucked into his chest.
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