"Thank you for the coffee. This will be a long ride," a girl distracts me, her voice louder than anyone else's in the cafe. I lift my head, having had my head down for an eternity. I haven't read a thing, and my coffee has gone cold. My mind is so far gone, and my head still hurts. I stop breathing as I notice him and those tattooed arms. Some leggy brunette with long hair and big blue eyes gives him a quick kiss on his cheek. Her skin looks like a porcelain doll's, and she's beyond gorgeous, wearing a black cropped sweater and high waist denim. I feel even worse, this nausea taking even more of a toll on me.

His eyes fall on me, and I immediately look away. He's in a black tee and black pants, the tee fitting him so well. I love when his hair is styled up slightly. I don't want to take my eyes off him, but I don't want to get caught in a stare. My mind is about to start wandering, wanting to feel him, all of him. It's terrible how one glance at him makes me want more. At the same time, my blood is overheating, thinking of that girl with him. It must be Amelia.

"Have you been crying?" he suddenly distracts me, now at the edge of my table. I hesitate to look up, not wanting him to look me in the eyes. His face is laced with concern, taking in my appearance. I look away, my eyes trying to find that girl, but she has already left.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Louis throws me off. My eyes are back on him, and my lashes flutter a little. "Unless he's going to be tracking down your every move," he slides in a quiet, sarcastic remark geared towards Josh.

"He's at the party," I admit, which brings a flurry to my stomach. He has tried to keep track of everything, texting me every so often about my whereabouts until they became gibberish. I nibble on my bottom lip, knowing it isn't the best idea. "We really shouldn't. Besides, aren't you out with that girl anyways," I clear my throat a little before looking back down at my book.

The seat to the left of mine is pulled out, and I stop myself from sighing. He takes a seat to my left, and I try to keep distracted by the words on the page. It's useless. Impossible with his presence. "What's wrong," he asks lowly, his lips close to my ear. A chill travels down my spine from his hot breath, and I shift a little. His hand is on the back of my seat, and I am trying hard to keep my eyes focused on the page.

"Are you not on a date?" I scoff, aggravated by him doing this a couple of minutes after being with her.

"With her? Bloody hell, that's disgusting. That was one of my sisters trying to convince me to do something," he remarks with pure disgust. My stomach clenches, realising how easily the envy slipped out of me. That does explain her natural beauty.

"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?" I give up, looking at him. Only his face is just inches from mine, and my breath hitches in my throat. I am barely breathing as my eyes lock with his, trying to avoid the temptation of his lips.

"No," his voice is raspy and yet so intriguing. My eyes fall to his lips, losing any sense of self-control. Only the sound of a group of girls laughing makes me turn my head, and I shut my book. "You know, we never really talked," he states lowly.

"About?"

"Us. The beach. My flat. You tried to push me away at first, but we never even actually talked about any of it," he whispers. Everything else around me has come to a standstill, and it's bad. This isn't something to talk about on campus. "Jace is out tonight if you want to talk at my place," he offers after noticing my eyes wandering cautiously over the coffee shop.

My mind is telling me no. Don't do it. Josh could randomly pop up in my room or here, and I would have no way to cover myself. Except I'm drawn to him. For some unexplainable reason, he has me in a chokehold. There's a ghost of intensity in his eyes that holds me hostage.

"We shouldn't go to your flat," I let the shadow of doubt take over.

"A restaurant? A bar? Somewhere off campus," he offers, not giving up.

"A bar? You don't drink, and you're offering a bar," I mock with the slightest scoff.

"I don't run and hide from alcohol. There are other things to drink and eat," he snorts back, a grin taking over his lips. My eyebrows are raised, watching him closely. "It's a casual place to talk without worrying that someone may see us," he adds lowly. I pause a little, my nerves coursing through me. He has a point. Not many uni students will be at some run-down bar on a Friday night. They're either at the party or one of the bars that appeal to younger crowds.

"I need to be back by eleven, latest," I cave in, my voice becoming frail. I shove my book into my bag, and his gaze is felt on me, hot on my skin. I go to stand and readjust my dress to cover my butt. His eyes barely take in my bare legs, and I am already flushed. I move my hair over my shoulder, and he gets out of his seat, starting for the door first. I'm overly worried that someone I know is in here, despite them all being at the party. He holds the door open for me, and I let out a small thanks, making my way out. A simple gesture that I may not get used to, sadly. It's pathetic that I'm used to the door falling shut before me and having to stop it myself, whenever with Josh. It's sad that I even notice such a small action that Louis is doing.

There's a crisp chill in the air, worse than earlier. The goosebumps on my legs make me happy that I wore a long sleeve dress.

"I'm surprised that Shane didn't ask you a million times to go to the party," I state to fill the silence as we walk through the courtyard. My eyes are on the dark clouds above, keeping the stars hidden.

"He did. I said no, showered after the gym, and Amelia popped up. I didn't plan on going to the party because you didn't want me around," his statement hits me hard in my chest. My arms cross tightly over my chest, and I keep my head down.

"Want to talk about why you were crying," he starts, and my stomach instantly dips. I shake my head without looking back. He doesn't press on, and every fibre of my being slowly becomes numb.

"Did he hurt you?" he still questions. I turn to face him, my head falling to the side. He genuinely appears concerned with his eyebrows furrowing and eyes carefully trailing over me. "You said he doesn't hurt you, but here you are with red eyes, still dressed for that party. Hell, even Saturday, he was an ass that made you get up and leave."

My eyes flicker to a couple walking past, minding their own business as they chat away with laughter. My body is on edge. He's driving me to that point. Being on campus, and hearing those things, only makes my skin crawl. Words that shouldn't be spoken out loud in public, with fear that someone that may know us could overhear.

"Don't cry. That's not what I'm trying to get at," his face falls.

"What?" I ask, thrown off. My lashes flutter, and I recognise the familiar ache in them. I hadn't even noticed. I clear my throat and shake my head. Turning away, I start walking once more. I stay silent the rest of the way, and he doesn't push further. We find ourselves just walking under the dark sky above. There are several options for bars around here, but it's an unfamiliar one that catches my eye with a flickering green light on the outside. It looks like it could be a worn-down one that older people would tend to go to, as opposed to the ones that thrive off us, uni students.

"How about that one?" I point to it.

"Looks like it'll be crap," he chuckles.

"Kind of the point. Who else from campus will be there? Not like this is some date either," I hint back with a slight giggle.

"Whatever you want," he doesn't fight it. He goes to grab the heavy wooden door, and I am hit with the sound of music and the scent of smoke. He allows me to walk in first, and my eyes skim around the place. It's a wooden bar, where several men in leather jackets take up half of it. The booths are wooden, and there's stained glass for the windows. The music is a bit loud, and to my surprise, several people are dancing. I wasn't wrong when I thought it would appeal to an older crowd instead of uni students. Everyone else appears to be in their forties or fifties, drinking and laughing. Pretty much all of them are in black or leather, as if this is a biker bar. Thank god we are both wearing black, although I still don't look like I belong.

"Bar or booth, or do you just want to leave?" Louis asks, humour noted in his tone.

"Let's do the bar," I shrug simply.

"Alright," he obliges. He starts for the bar, and I follow behind, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. If anything, he looks like he could belong with these people in leather jackets and tattooed arms solely because of the art on his skin. I probably look like an outcast and I kind of love that I'm at his side. He sits at the bar, pulling the one seat out for me. I give a small thanks and lift myself onto the wooden stool, setting my purse on the bar. "You sure know how to pick one," Louis mutters, and I can't help but giggle.

"You wanted to take me out. Can't just go anywhere, this close to campus," I retort with a twitch of my nose. I move my hair over my shoulder, and his eyes skim down over me. "Split the bill even?" I ask softly. His eyebrows furrow together as if I just offended him by asking that.

"What can I get you two?" a woman asks, with thick brown curls and heavy makeup. She's dressed in all black, fitting this scene perfectly. However, I notice her doing a take of me and me alone with her eyes, not even bothering to do the same towards Louis.

"I'll have water," Louis starts. Now she looks at him like he's the odd one. I bite back a laugh. I still don't know his reasoning, but he doesn't appear to care about the look she gives him.

"Heineken?" I ask for the beer.

"She's manlier than you," the woman pokes fun at Louis. Now I can't help but laugh. Her twisted smile proves she meant nothing by it. Louis just chuckles with the slightest shake of his head before she walks off to grab our drinks.

"You hear that? I'm pretty tough," I joke a little. He rolls his eyes, but he can't hold back the smile. "Well, you got me out. Want to tell me the reason for you not drinking now?" I ask softly, crossing my right leg over my left.

"Not at all," his voice becomes raspy as he shakes his head. I frown a little, feeling off by it. He pries for information about myself, yet still has some wall up. "Now, how about we talk about what I wanted to talk about?" he switches the topic. I blow out a raspberry as she sets our two glasses before us.

"Anything else?" she asks.

"Could we get some chips?" I ask, straightening a little. She nods and walks off. My eyes linger on the other end as a puff of smoke dwindles into the air. "Right, the beach," I start with a clear of my throat, focusing back on the topic.

"Not that far back. You know what I want to talk about first," he remarks lowly. My body is stiff, and my fingers are digging into my thigh. I take a deep breath in and out. I always want to get it off my chest, so why am I still holding it back? "Uh," I stall a little. Why does it feel like revealing these things out loud will force me to knock at the devil's door? "He has never hit me," I reinforce what I said last week, looking at him. His lips press tightly together, watching me closely. I gulp. "He gets rough with me whenever angry or drunk and talks down to me. That wasn't the first bruise by him and not the last. Tonight he was pissed that I took a celebratory shot with the girls, and we argued. He then took a fistful of my hair, and it was just a sharp pain from my head to my neck. I just kept wanting to chop off my hair so that it could never happen again. Maybe shave it off entirely."

His jaw is tense, and his eyes are narrow. He's pissed. I can feel it, but not at me. I look away, unable to hold his stare. "The beach," I backtrack with dryness in my throat. "Yeah, that was Hannah's family vacation. Josh made me feel so guilty for even trying to go. He couldn't stop me because Hannah's family is practically my own, and it's an annual thing that even my brother has gone on before. So it was a never-ending guilt trip, pinning it, so I was the bad guy for going and frequently telling me that I was just going to...hook up with someone."

"Which you did," Louis points out the obvious, grabbing his water. Now I do look like the bad guy for that. I can't look at him this time. Maybe it's my guilty conscience trying to take control. My palm is clammy, thinking back to that night.

"You approached me," I remark bluntly, trying to save some sort of face. I tuck my hair behind my ear and sigh. I still can't look him in the eyes. I may end up suffocating with thoughts of the night before that trip. "He drilled it into my head, practically cursed me out daily and called me some whore for even wanting to go. It was a family vacation, and he acted like I was on some sort of Spring Break, going to America in Miami, where those girls go crazy. It was a beach trip at boring, old Camber Sands. We have gone every year since we were children, but usually at an off time when there aren't any beach parties like the one we met at."

He stays silent, and I take a small sip of my beer. The liquid is cool and refreshing on my tongue, which helps to relax my throat. My heart is heavy, thinking of the night before the trip. I almost don't want to say it out loud out of fear that it will haunt me. My skin is paling a little, and my grip on the glass tightens.

"The, uh, night before Hannah and I left...he got drunk. When drunk, he's a thousand times rougher and harder to calm down," I pause a little. My stomach clenches. "Things escalated...to the point that I don't want to talk or think about, just so that he could mark me as his. His way of saying I belong to him. I wanted to cry to Hannah and tell her everything, but I couldn't. That night messed me up a lot."

Now he really won't say a word. His fist is balled up, tight, with his knuckles white. I don't even have to look him in the eyes, and I know he is furious. Except for the first time, I feel relieved. It's a secret that I have been dying to tell someone, anyone. It no longer weighs down on my shoulders, along with the world's weight.

"When you came up and talked to me, I felt different. You made me feel so new and wanted, and I haven't felt like that in so long. I also wanted to retaliate against him, I guess, but I had so easily just forgotten that he existed when I spoke with you. One thing led to another. I didn't expect us to get so intimate. I was always the kind of person that believed that you shouldn't cheat, no matter the situation, just end it, but I'm stuck. You were the first and only person I had cheated on him with."

"You don't understand how bad I want to kill him," he seethes out.

"Louis," I sigh, finally meeting his eyes. They are darkened with anger, in the way that Josh's get, except they don't intimidate me. "You can't tell anyone," my voice gets small.

"Megan, he fucking took advantage of you. He hurts you consistently, and that moment before the beach...I can't even fucking say it as someone that worries about that shit when it comes to his two sisters," his words sting me right in the chest. My lashes flutter a little, and my throat begins to hurt.

"I know, but still. He hasn't done it again. The point of this conversation is to explain why we had done that. You want answers to why we got together, and I'm giving you the answers. It started because of how you made me feel on that beach and because of how he treated me before. For the first time in a long time, I felt special. Then you show up in London because of whatever happened with your father, which you refuse to talk about, and at first, it terrified me, but now all I can think about is you."

His eyes are boring into mine, peering right into my soul. My heart is pounding against my ribcage, and I gulp. The bartender sets a basket of chips before us and walks off to cater to one of the men at the other end.

"Please, keep your word and don't say anything. This is the first I have told someone, and I'm terrified just admitting it out loud. I'll get out of it when I can. I just need to figure things out first," I plead softly.

"He is a piece of shit," he growls. My eyes are stuck on his, and I bite the inside of my cheek. "That asshole doesn't deserve you," he states lowly.

"Can we talk about something else? Anything but him," I ask softly. His jaw is tense as he looks away. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and I can't look away. "How often do you smoke?" I frown a little.

"Not as much anymore. Only when stressed," he mutters miserably. He lights the end of the stick, and I watch him put it between his lips. I never really cared about smoking, but I'm intrigued as I watch. I don't know if it's because he looks more masculine or if it's because I just want to feel those lips that are wrapped around it. I look away and grab a hot chip, popping it into my mouth. Fresh out of the fryer and burning my tongue.

"Does it have to do with your father?" I ask hesitantly, still not looking his way.

"He's the root of everything," he mutters.

"What did he do, if you don't mind me asking," I pry a little. His eyes harden, focused on the bar before he takes in some of the cigarette. A cloud of smoke leaves his lips, and he rests his elbow on the counter, moving the cigarette between his fingertips. "You got some information out of me," I add, in a little reminder.

"What hasn't he done? That woman that introduced him as her fiancé at that convention," he sneers, pausing. "She was caught sleeping with him on his and my mum's wedding anniversary. He left us to struggle, to be with that woman instead. He has all of this money and left my mum with none to take care of my two sisters and me. My mum pushed me to come to London with him. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her. Jace only came along to keep me somewhat grounded. I never wanted to be here, and I truly don't get why they want me here," he explains in a deepened tone. He takes another puff of the cigarette, and I grip my left arm as I watch. Slowly more is beginning to unfold from him, and I don't want him to stop. He knows so much about me, and I'd love to learn more about him. The deeper stuff. Everything that makes him, him. "Take it this way; there is a lot of shit that he has done. I refuse to talk about some of it. There are just some things I will never forgive him for, and I wouldn't care if he just croaked."

"Was he an alcoholic?" I slip out before I realise it. He lets out a hint of a laugh and shakes his head.

"Nope, I just don't want to talk about it, the same way you don't want to go into detail about that night before the trip," he diverts quietly. I breathe out slowly, not wanting to push it. I take another chip and eat it, glancing around. His father wasn't an alcoholic, and I doubt his mother was either. Somehow it comes back to his father. I can't stop wondering why this person before me is so affected by it.

"You have two sisters," I switch the topic. He lets out a breathy laugh and puts the cigarette in an ashtray.

"Amelia and Sophia. Twins, both started uni this year," he nods. That gorgeous girl has a sister who is probably identical to her. Their mum must be beautiful.

"Are you close to them?" I can't help but ask.