Louis sighed as his phone buzzed. The second he answered, he already knew.

"Yo, man, come get your girl. She’s wasted."

Of course, you were. Louis didn’t even question it—just grabbed his keys and drove straight to the club.

—

Finding you wasn’t hard. You were slumped in a booth, eyes half-closed, swaying like you were still dancing. Your friend practically threw you at him.

"She’s your problem now."

Louis rolled his eyes, throwing your arm over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, lightweight."

—

Getting you inside your apartment was easy enough. He swiped your keycard, nudged the door open, and guided you to the couch, lowering you down carefully—

But the second he tried to step back—

You pulled him down.

Louis barely caught himself before crashing onto the couch beside you. "Okay, what the—"

You leaned in. Too close. Your fingers traced his jaw, your breath warm against his skin.

"Louis… you’re… nice," you mumbled, barely making sense.

Louis froze. Nope. He wasn’t about to deal with this.

"Alright, let’s not," he muttered, prying your hands off.

You pouted—actually pouted. Then, before he could move, you dropped your head onto his shoulder.

Louis exhaled, shaking his head. "Man, you’re lucky I care about you like a my sister."

Because he knows that girls deserved to be protected, not taken advantage of. Even when they were a total drunken mess.