Welcome! Thank you for taking the time to read You Before Me.

I don't want to bore you with a very long author's note but I do have to address a couple of things:

1. In a perfect and ideal world I would be updating every week but I can safely say that will not happen due to the fact that life is very busy. You have been warned.

2. If this story is not your type of Bertie Bott's Bean Flavour, please leave it unharmed so some other lad or lass can enjoy it to the fullest extent. Thank you.

3. Disclaimer: I do not own 'Me Before You' or its characters in any way. The only thing I own is my brain and story plot.

4. As an additional note, this idea was inspired by the chapter in which Will and Louisa attend Alicia's wedding. Will argued that he would have noticed Louisa regardless of whether or not he was in a wheelchair, in which Louisa responds that he would have been 'far too busy looking at the tall blond girls with the endless legs and the big hair' while she would have been 'one of the invisibles.' Let's see if Louisa's declaration is actually accurate. With that being said, this story takes place in an alternate universe where Will did not have the accident.

I think that about sums it up. So if you will, please sit back, relax and enjoy 'You Before Me.'

YOU BEFORE ME

By: The Painted Green Door

Prologue:

LOUISA:

It was a grand affair. Too grand for me and my own tastes. In fact, it was the kind of affair that I had almost certainly dreamed of when I was younger but realized that I would never actually have. A bitter taste of reality. I suppose however, that the event was just right and expected for those who were actually invited and in attendance. The guests were having a delightful time if the noise level and amount of laughter were any indicator, and the bride and groom (and their respective families) were all smiles as they milled about to speak to each guest.

The bride herself looked absolutely ethereal. Her pale caramel skin was radiant under the low lighting that the white lanterns offered, and the off white silk that she wore accentuated her slim figure and long legs. To be perfectly honest, I was a bit jealous that anyone could be so perfect. She was absolutely heavenly. I imagined what it would look like if I stood next to her – it would have created quite a contrast. And in that moment, I realized how unfair the lottery of genetics were.

But I pushed those thoughts aside, and focused on fluttering around the tables that were clad in white linen cloths and set with tasteful tableware. I ignored how my shoes pinched horribly, and instead forced myself to smile to those around me as I offered the guests some sparkling champagne.

"Louisa, James needs some help at the bar," Marjory, a fellow coworker, hissed under her breath as she bounded up to me. She flipped her strawberry hair purposefully, as if to establish herself as superior compared to myself, and I was tempted to roll my eyes. (Though if I was being perfectly honest, she had been working these kind of events for a few months before I came onto the scene of catering, and therefore I suppose she did have a right to feel a little superior to my own gawky self). During all of my own musings Marjory must have expected an answer from my lips because she shot me an exasperated look before nudging me in the ribs with her elbow before going off in the crowd to make her own rounds.

I sighed slightly, already feeling exhausted from working this event, but nevertheless straightened my posture as I headed towards the bar at the far end.

At least James was glad to see me as I reached the bar, and slipped behind it. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear, I attempted to be as efficient as possible in fulfilling drink orders.

By the time the first wave of visitors dwindled, the string quartet had been replaced by a DJ, and the crowd of guests were having a grand old time on the dance floor. I smiled slightly as I watched the scene. A sharp rap on the counter brought me out of my reverie, and I blinked furiously for a couple of seconds before I found myself coming face to face with a rather handsome man.

"Whiskey."

"R-right," I stuttered, feeling instantly foolish. I fumbled a little with the bottle, but quickly poured his drink into the glass. Placing it in front of him I then had a free moment to observe him. As I said before, he was handsome. Clean shaven. Bright eyes. A defined jawline. He was definitely the type of man that Treena would have tried to impress at a bar. I could almost imagine her sashaying her way towards him and attempting her best awfully flirty habits.

The thought made me smile.

"Why are you smiling?" the young man asked me, frowning as he looked up from the contents of his drink towards my face. I felt my face grow hot from the sudden attention that he directed at me, and quickly attempted to direct the attention elsewhere.

"Why do you look absolutely miserable?" I replied, placing my hands on my hips as if that would give me any substantial amount of confidence. Maybe it did because I added, "It's a wedding, and here you are looking like you're at a funeral."

He regarded my words bitterly as he tipped his head back and swallowed the drink's contents in one fluid gulp before slamming his glass down, "Weddings are a farce."

I ignored his words as I took his glass away only for him to signal for another shot. Bourbon this time. I wrinkled my nose at the burning sensation that reached my nose as I poured his desired drink. Once he finished that drink he opened his mouth to speak, "What's your name?"

"Louisa," I said automatically.

He leaned towards me as if he wanted to confide in me. My body tensed as I felt the heat radiate off his skin. As he spoke, I was surprised that his breath did not smell like alcohol, but rather of mint, "You see the bride, Louisa? Well she's my ex."

"Couldn't stand your playboy antics?" I asked him, arching an eyebrow as I took his glass away. I said this teasingly, but wondered if there was perhaps a bit of truth. He did seem like the type who would be popular with the ladies. The confidence just seemed to ooze off of him.

He smiled brilliantly as if he was amused, his white teeth shining, "No. She couldn't stand my daring and risk taking attitude. She'd rather be at a luxury spa in Bali. I'd rather be skydiving."

Oh.

That was an unexpected response.

He paused for a moment before continuing, "Have you ever skydived before?"

I wondered if I looked like the skydiving type. I shook my head as I wiped up the counter, "No."

"Would you ever want to sky dive?"

"No," I answered honestly.

He didn't say anything that indicated that he was displeased by his answer, but the frown on his face returned. I pursed my lips in return, unsure of what to say and do.

After a moment he sighed, and reached in his back pocket. His eyes fluttered down as he pulled out a rather large sum and placed in on the counter. My heart quickened as I thought about the substantial tip I had acquired. I knew my family would be pleased at the small fortune I earned from working at this event. I wondered if I would be able to convince my mother to make my favorite dish (chicken pot pie) as a reward.

He then met my eyes, his own boring holes into my own. I felt insignificant, as if I was a bug being inspected by a larger specimen. He looked thoughtfully at me, and for a moment I thought he would say a quick "thank you" before leaving, but instead he calmly said:

"Why, Louisa, you might be one of the most boring people I've ever met."

He then slid the banknote towards me, and walked away, his hands in his pockets. He acted rather careless all the while, like a sleepy cat sauntering in the warm sunshine after a fat meal.

I fumed.

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