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The subway emerges from the tunnel and Harry squints at the sudden sunlight streaming in through the windows and overpowering the relentless fluorescents. As they rumble overground, Harry turns to look over his shoulder at Brooklyn spread out below him.
Harry feels lost, seeing a whole, squat part of the city spread out around him.
“Weird, isn’t it?” Louis asks. Harry turns to look at him across the space between them, enough for someone else to sit there, but thankfully the train is basically empty at this hour. Louis slides his sunglasses down from where they were perched on top of his head.
“Hmm?” Harry’s a bit foggy at the moment. He probably shouldn’t have accepted this date with Louis, but his friends have been on him about getting out more, and they’re right. His therapist said so too. And Louis is a friend of a friend. Zayn claimed “he’s a nice guy” and promised “no pressure if you don’t hit it off.” Harry agreed half heartedly because he didn’t have the fight in him to explain why it was a terrible idea.
“Being above ground,” Louis says, still looking out the window. “Like, no matter how many times I go to Coney Island, I always forget the train goes above ground to get there.”
It’s the first time Harry’s gone on a date that started before noon. He still knows this is a terrible idea, but he’s here now.
“Smith-9th and 4th-9th, too,” Harry says, idly.
“What?”
“Those stops on the F are above ground too.”
“Oh. I’m on the 2/3,” Louis says. Harry doesn’t have a response. “But it’s interesting, isn’t it, going on a different train line, different stops than what you’re used to.”
Harry isn’t sure he’d use the word ‘interesting.’
“Yeah.” He pauses. Thinking about the monotony of his commute is exhausting. “It’s numbing, doing the same commute every day. I could look out the train window and see the Statue of Liberty every day.” When Harry first realized, he spent every ride in anticipation, waiting for the overpass and the buildings to clear for that one perfect view of the river. Now he’s lucky if he remembers to point it out the monument when his parents come to visit. “It’s smaller than you’d think. Looks tiny out there.”
“You ever climb it?” Louis asks.
“Once? Maybe? There a vague memory of a field trip when I lived in Jersey as a kid, but I mostly remember talking about going, not actually anything about being there. Maybe I was sick that day.”
“I went up to the crown once. With my aunt. Before 9/11.”
Harry turns forward, looking out the window on the other side of the aisle. He refuses to have the “where were you when…” conversation that almost always follows. It’s too early for that. He puts his head back, reads the repeating advertisements on the other side of the car. He’s not used to the subway without headphones, without his phone, without a book. He’s not sure where to look. He’s supposed to be making conversation.
They’re both quiet.
“Sorry,” Louis says, angling his body slightly towards Harry.
“For what?”
“Bringing up 9/11. Like, it’s been what, fifteen minutes, and I’ve already tanked the mood.”
“It’s alright.” Harry wishes he was the kind of person who could seamlessly change topics when things got awkward. Instead, he sits and blinks up at the smiling people in the vocational school advertisement.
Louis faces forward again. “So Zayn says you work in TV?” A nice safe topic.
“Sort of. I mean, I do. But it’s not like, exciting. I process invoices.” It’s not what he went to school for, but it pays the bills.
“Oh. Yeah.” Louis shakes his head. Harry waits for the follow up question of ‘Any shows that I watch?’ Instead, Louis says, “That doesn’t sound exciting at all.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted that he was trying to upsell me.”
“Eh,” Louis hedges. “Not an upsell. He was pretty honest about you.”
“Oh.” Harry’s not sure what that means. He’ll try to remember to ask Zayn later.
“Well,” Louis says, “it is cooler than processing invoices for like, a desk company.”
“A desk company?”
“Yeah, you know, a company that makes desks.”
Harry arches an eyebrow. Louis does have a point.
***
The subway squeals to a stop at Coney Island-Stillwell Avenue. Harry and Louis stand and exit with everyone else as the conductor announces, “Last stop. Everybody please leave the train.” The weather’s on its way to oppressively hot and he’s going to miss the cooled air of the subway. Harry follows Louis down the winding ramp, crisscrossing downward until they’re at the turnstiles. They haven’t said anything since they left the train and Harry wonders how long they can stand next to each other without saying anything.
In the huge tunnel leading outdoors, they pass by the kitchy beach shops selling trinkets with “Coney Island” emblazoned on everything.
“Hey, mind if I get a coffee?” Louis asks.
“Okay. Sure.” That’s something to talk about that’s not Harry’s boring life.
As they move towards the arched opening to Surf Avenue, Louis starts walking towards the Dunkin Donuts.
“Wait,” Harry says. “No. You’re not going there, are you?”
Louis turns with a look of confusion. “Yes. Why?”
“It’s,” Harry hesitates, “gross.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry.” He knows that was rude. He tucks his hands in his pockets. “You can get your coffee from wherever.”
“Thanks for your permission.” Louis shakes his head with a small smile on his face. He pushes open the door. “You don’t have to get anything, but my treat, if you do.”
“No thanks.”
“Not even a frozen coffee?”
That sounds like the worst kind of abomination. “A what now?”
“Let me guess…” Louis narrows his eyes and looks at him appraisingly, like he’s a challenge, while waiting for the person in front of them to finish their order. “You like to ground your own beans? You do a pour over every morning. A purist?”
Harry wouldn’t go quite that far. But he did get a vacuum pot for his most recent birthday, so it’s possible Louis has him pegged. “A grinder is good for other things too,” Harry says, more on the petulant side than he means.
Louis’ eyebrows raise. “So not such a goodie two shoes…”
Harry stands off to the side as Louis orders, then waits for, his coffee, which does turn out be some sort of frozen concoction.
“Wasn’t gonna bring a hot coffee to the beach on a day like today,” he explains to Harry, who subtly shakes his head. “Sure you don’t want a sip?” Louis holds it out to him, but Harry shakes his head harder and puts his hands up in defense. Louis smiles around the straw. “You’re missing out.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Onward?” Louis asks, sweeping his arm towards the door.
***
Harry squints and pulls his sunglasses down from where they were acting as a headband to keep his curls out of his face. “You come here often?” Louis asks.
“No.” He has been here before, but the details of who and why are murky. Maybe it was after Hurricane Sandy.
They’re waiting at the traffic light with a crowd of people who have all come prepared for a day at the beach: towels rolled under their arms, overflowing tote bags full of sunscreen and trashy magazines and clean clothes, and coolers to keep them satisfied all day. Louis and Harry are empty handed, other than Louis’ abomination of a drink, and Harry feels over dressed in his jeans and t-shirt. Shorts would’ve been the smarter sartorial choice. But at least his clothes are washed. That’s a tic in the positive column.
“You?” Harry asks.
“Um.” Louis plays with the straw, raising and lowering it a few times. It squeaks as it rubs against the plastic lid. “Often is maybe too strong of a word.”
Something about his evasiveness makes Harry want to dig. They cross the street and walk past Nathan’s. The huge sign informs him that there’s 328 days until the next hot dog eating contest. “So not your favorite place in the city? Or you come here regularly? First time…?”
“It’s going to make me sound like an ass.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” In another life Harry would’ve made up a crazy story to fill in the blanks, would’ve gone home after the date and written a short screenplay. He’s not going to do either of those things.
Louis groans as they enter the mural installation. “I know this sounds weird.” They stop in front of the first piece they see, five brightly colored overlapping cartoon faces. “I bring all my dates here.”
Harry thinks that he should feel something, looking at these faces, but he doesn’t, so he belately asks, “What?”
“Not like, every date, obviously. But it’s a good place to like… find out someone’s vibe.”
Harry considers this as he looks at the mural. “Tag yourself.”
“What?”
“I’m that one.” Harry points at the fourth face, pale blue and eyebrows drawn together, squished between two others, both with a huge disingenuous smiles.
A screeching child runs past them, and an exasperated dad follows a moment later.
“Oh. I’m….” Louis takes his time answering. “Is that a cigarette?” The face on the far right has at least four eyes and an orange cloud for a mouth. Off to one side there are two tiny rectangles with a squiggly lines.
“Think so, yeah.”
Louis keeps looking at the mural, then he turns to Harry and says, “Then I’m him.”
“Okay.”
Louis must be a smoker, despite not smelling like an ashtray.
“Okay.” Louis slowly turns, then walks away, toward the next mural.
It’s bright blue and there’s an added handle on top. When Harry follows him around the corner to the front, he notices that another installation makes it look like a giant three dimensional boombox. Orange construction netting look like the speakers on either end, and fencing creates an illusion of a tape deck in the middle. It’s cool. Harry appreciates the out of the box approach to making the flat surface something more.
Louis is looking at it, head tilted in what looks like concentration.
“You bring everyone here?” Harry asks. ‘To see the murals?’ he means to clarify, but doesn’t.
“Not everyone.” Louis turns and makes eye contact. Harry looks away. “But like, if I think there might be potential.”
Harry rocks back on his heels, then realizes what Louis said. “Are you saying I have potential?”
Louis puts a hand on his hip. “Are you saying we don’t?”
Harry points to the half-finished frozen coffee. “Maybe.”
“Fair enough.”
The next mural is just a bunch of colored blocks. Three rows and seven columns of different muted tones. They walk past it without comment and stop at one that’s a fisheye lens image of a Brooklyn street scape. It’s all dark reds and yellows. It looks hot and oppressive and Harry turns away before he gets sucked into it.
The next mural that catches his attention depicts two mermaids diving to the bottom of the ocean.
“Zayn’s been talking you up for ages,” Louis says out of the blue. “To be honest, I’m glad you’re giving me a chance.”
“Oh yeah?” Harry can’t parse out what any of that means. “What’d else Zayn tell you?”
Louis shrugs. “Enough. Says you’re a nice guy.”
‘Boring,’ Harry doesn’t say.
They spend more time walking around the murals, commenting on what they like. They come out of the other side and walk between the go kart track and the rest of the amusement park, toward the boardwalk
“Want to go on any rides?” Louis asks.
“Is this a test?”
Louis groans. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve said anything. There’s not a right answer.”
On the other side of the chain link fence, children watch with wide eyes as the rides zip past. There are so many smiling faces. Harry doesn’t want to bring the mood down. “Maybe later.”
Louis seems okay with that. “A walk along the boardwalk?” he asks with an easy shrug.
“I’m on board with that idea.”
Louis stops walking, turns to Harry and says, “That was terrible.”
“Zayn must not have told you about my puns.” They’re second nature by now, the way they can roll off his tongue without him realizing he’s making them.
***
By the time they walk down the boardwalk to the aquarium, Louis is telling Harry about his favorite sea animal.
“Sharks?” Harry raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “How old are you? Five?”
“Sharks are cool,” Louis says, throwing his arms up. “How can you not like sharks?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like sharks,” Harry explains. “But your favorite?”
“Yeah, they’re badass. And like, the whole ocean ecosystem depends on them.”
The sun is oppressive and Harry wipes the sweat from his forehead. Seagulls swoop overhead.
“Want to go in?” Louis asks.
“To the aquarium?”
“No, the porta-potties,” Louis deadpans. “Yes, the aquarium.”
“I haven’t been to one since I was, like, a kid. My uncle got married in California, on the beach. It smelled… disgusting.” Harry had pinched his nose and his mom swatted at his hand and told him not to be rude. “I think something dead must’ve washed up on shore. And there was so much seaweed, like, so much, dotting the beach.” Harry lost track of what he was saying. “Anyway, we went to the Monterey Aquarium, when we were there.”
Louis loudly inhales as he moves toward the path leading off the boardwalk toward the aquarium. “Only smells like city and beach here.” Louis tosses his empty drink into a barrel trash can. “Harold, up for it?”
“It’s just Harry.”
Louis is standing in place, bouncing on his toes. “Same question, Harry.”
“Yeah, I’m up for it. It’s hot as balls out here.”
Louis fist pumps. “That’s the spirit.”
The line for admission isn’t too long, and Harry’s distracted looking at the array of ticket prices posted above the ticket booth and doesn’t realize it’s their turn until Louis says, “Two, please.”
“Oh! I can—” Harry’s already pulling out his wallet.
“Nah, I got it.”
“Thanks,” Harry says softly and Louis gives a small smile.
The teenager behind the booth hands over their tickets and says, “The sea lion feedings are at 11:30, 1:45, 3:00, and 3:30.”
“Thank you,” Louis says. Harry gives the teen a polite nod.
“I’ll get lunch,” Harry says, opening the door for Louis and following him into the cool, dark room.
One whole wall is a huge tank, with brightly colored fish swishing every which way. A man in a scuba suit is in there too. Kids have their noses pressed to the glass.
“Great White?” Harry asks.
“What?”
“Is the Great White your favorite shark?”
Louis laughs. “Yes. I am a basic bitch. It’s the most classic of all sharks.”
“Okay.” Harry bites down on a smile. He can appreciate the classics.
They keep walking, down the hall and into the rest of the dark building. Harry’s already cooled off significantly. It was a great idea.
Harry stops in front of a tank, and Louis tilts his head trying to look in.
“My favorite,” Harry says.
“What is it?”
“Octopus.”
“Where?”
Harry points to the corner of the tank, where the octopus is chilling in the corner. It’s the exact shade as the coral above it.
“Cool,” Louis concedes. “So tell me about octopi.”
“Octopuses,” Harry corrects.
“Really?”
“Yep.” A pair of children push in front of them and Harry takes a step back to give them some room. “Um. So, they can change color, obviously. And they’re super smart. Like, they have to keep them entertained and intellectually challenged or else they’ll like, eat their own arm off—”
“Ew,” says the little boy in front of them.
“Oh. So just like me,” Louis says.
Harry snorts.
“And they’ve got three hearts, and are known to escape from their tanks, and they can regrow their arms if they lose one.”
“They’re funky little dudes.”
“Yep.” The octopus slides out from where it was hiding and glides to a spot behind another patch of coral.
“Cool.”
Harry can feel Louis looking at him. But when he glances over, Louis is watching the tank.
“We can stay and watch as long as you’d like,” Louis says.
“What time is it?”
Louis pulls out his phone. “11:25.”
“Then no, I want to watch the sea lions.”
“Okay. Maybe we can swing by on the way out and say goodbye to this legend.”
Harry appreciates the sentiment.
The rest of the aquarium is outside, so they watch the sea lions eat, then they go to the food truck to get some non-fishy food for themselves, say hi to the walruses and penguins, then Louis leads them to the shark tank.
Harry ends up watching Louis, more than the sharks. Louis’ face lights up in a child-like smile every time one swims past him, and yeah, Harry can see the appeal.
***
After they say goodbye to the octopus and leave the aquarium, they stop in a beachwear shop because Louis wants to buy a towel so they can sit on the beach. They wander through the shop, and Harry picks up trinkets as he walks by, looking at them and putting them back down with no intention of buying anything. The burly man behind the counter is giving everyone the stink eye, as though everyone walking around is planning on stealing his merchandise.
“What do you think of this one?” Louis says, with a dramatic flourish of his hands. He’s showing off a neon green monstrosity, with a giant anchor in the middle, a mermaid wrapped around it like a rope.
“I love it,” Harry says truthfully.
“Sick. Me too.” Louis nods in approval before he turns away to take it off the rack and Harry watches him walk toward the register.
***
Harry holds onto the railing as he takes off one shoe and sock and then the other. He gives his jeans a fruitless roll at the ankle. The beach is crowded. They weave their way through sandcastles, clumps of tanning people, women pushing carts of frozen treats. It’s a cacophony of sound and competing bluetooth speakers, all underlaid by the gentle roar of the ocean in front of them and the rollercoaster screams behind them. Harry should’ve brought sunscreen, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that he wouldn’t be back home by now. If his brain had been working, he could’ve bought a souvenir hat at the beachwear shop, though he’s loathe to give that man any more money.
They find a spot big enough for their hideous towel and Louis lays it out. They sit side by side, staring out at the activity on the shore.
Harry tilts his face to the sun. While he’s out, he might as well soak in as much vitamin D as he can. Louis’ sitting so close to him, if he swayed half an inch he’d be gently bumping shoulders. It could be believable that it would happen by accident, but he holds himself still.
“Water! Cold water!” shouts a woman pushing a cart through the sand.
“Want one?” Harry asks, already standing and dusting the sand off his thighs.
“Yes. Please,” Louis says with a smile.
Harry opens his up, drinks half in one go, then sticks the cold bottle in the sand. Louis does the same, planting the bottle between his legs.
Sitting out on the sand, his denim-clad legs are even more out of place than they were on the boardwalk. But there’s nothing he can do, so he sucks it up and wipes his sweaty forehead again.
“It’s crazy,” Louis says.
Harry waits a beat for Louis to continue, and when he doesn’t, he asks, “What is?”
“How big the ocean is.”
“Yeah.”
“Like… have you ever been out on a boat, and like, all you can see is water, in every direction?”
“Um…” Harry racks his brain. He’s not on boats very often. “My family went on a cruise once. I, like, hated it. Was sick the whole time and it was cramped and… forced fun. It wasn’t for me.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Long Beach to Mexico. The best part was the day we spent just wandering around Catalina. The rest of it I never want to do again.”
“Catalina was nice? I’ve never been.”
“Yeah, cars aren’t allowed, so it’s like… quiet.” Maybe he’s misremembering, but that was his favorite part of the trip.
“I did it once. A cruise. Went down to Bermuda. The best part of that trip was the bon voyage party I threw myself the night before we left from Miami.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I hooked up with the hottest dude that night.”
Harry swivels his head in Louis’ direction. Louis is squinting into the sun. Harry was unprepared for Louis’ candidness. “Must’ve been some hookup.”
“Or… a really boring trip otherwise.”
Harry laughs. It feels good, to let go like that.
“I spent most of that cruise on the lido deck, staring out at the ocean, thinking about like, infinity and feeling really fucking small,” Louis says.
Harry knows the feeling. He picks up his bottle of water and drinks the rest of it.
“Better than spending the whole cruise sick with one of those stomach bugs.”
Louis laughs, his eyes turning to slits and the corners of his eyes crinkling.
A frisbee lands in front of them and Louis stands up and tosses it back to the shirtless twink who’s turning as red as a lobster.
“So, do you do that often?” Harry asks.
“What? Throw a frisbee?”
“Hook up with random guys in strange cities?”
“Oh.” Louis looks thoughtful. “Not really. That one took me by surprise, actually. In reality, it’s a tamer story than I let on. Just struck up a conversation with a cute guy at the hotel bar. And we hit it off. We met up for a drink a few months ago, actually, when he was here for work.”
“A drink, huh?” Harry wiggles his eyes suggestively. “Is that what you’re calling it these days.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. It was just a drink. I was, uh,” Louis clears his throat, “seeing someone then. So, like, it was totally innocent.”
Louis’ been pretty forthcoming thus far so when he doesn’t explain further, Harry prys, “Bad break up?”
Louis tilts his head back and forth, a pained look on his face. “Eh. Wasn’t great. Wasn’t my choice.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Harry doesn’t particularly want to hear about it, but he can listen if Louis needs.
“Not really, no.”
“Good.” Harry gives Louis a smile and bumps his shoulder. Louis smiles back.
They sit and watch the world move around them for a while, until Harry feels like he’s going to sweat through his jeans and requests some shade.
***
They stand, wiping the sand from their legs and hands. They slowly pick up the towel, trying to keep the sand from flying down the beach with the wind.
“So…” Louis catches Harry eye then quickly looks away. “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”
“Um…” Harry tries to gain a clue from Louis’ face, if this is his polite way of wrapping up the date. Louis is looking at him again, this time with wide eyes and a bitten lower lip. “No,” Harry says. He’s got his bed and about a million episodes of Murder She Wrote to rewatch. “Nothing else planned.”
Louis loudly exhales. “Okay, cool, should we… do you want to walk some more? We could go…” He motions toward the other end of the boardwalk that they haven’t walked yet.
A line of cars roll down the rollercoaster track, and the screams spread out across the beach before dissipating with the wind.
“Yeah, that sounds good. Do you mind if we stop so I can pee?”
The bathroom is wet and humid, the cement floor is littered with puddles and wet paper towels, and it smells putrid. Harry was hoping for a moment to collect himself, but Louis follows him in, they pee side by side, and rush back out into salty air as soon as they can.
***
“Are you…” Harry struggles to come up with the right word. “Sporty?”
“Sporty?” Louis turns and shrugs. “I guess. I’ve played soccer my whole life.”
“Even now?”
“Yeah, I’m on a few Zog sports teams.”
“A few?” Harry’s exhausted just thinking about that level of activity.
“Yeah, I play Tuesday and Wednesday mornings before work and then on Saturday too.”
“Wow.” Harry struggles to get in a shower before work some mornings. He keeps that thought to himself.
“But, like, I’m not like my friend Niall. He’ll watch literally any sport, anything that’s on. Once I caught him watching a darts tournament.”
“That sounds really boring,” Harry says, truthfully.
“I thought so too. Still won’t let him live it down.” Louis gently knocks into Harry’s shoulder with a soft smile. “Yeah. And I’m a soccer nut, but most other sports, eh…”
As they come upon the entrance of MCU Park, the name splashed across the front multiple times, Harry looks up at the stadium. He shields his eyes from the sun.
“Are you?” Louis asks.
Harry’s pulled back to the conversation by Louis’ voice. “Am I what?”
“Are you sporty?”
“Oh. Uh. I’ll watch football.” More like he’ll sit there and not complain if someone puts a game on.
“You a Giants fan?”
“No.”
“Jets?”
“Nope.”
“One more guess,” Louis says.
“Okay.”
“Ummmm…” He squints one eye toward Harry. “Something random like… the Lions?”
“Eh.” He’s half right. “The Packers.”
“Are you from Wisconsin?”
“No.”
“How’d you end up a Packers fan?”
“I was seeing this guy,” Harry doesn’t remember his name at the moment, “and he was a huge Minnesota fan. And, like, all day Sunday—all day—during the season, he’d sit in front of the TV, watching the games.” More importantly, Harry can’t remember what he ever saw in that dickhead. “In retrospect, we were probably not a great couple. But, so when we broke up, I started rooting for the Packers just to spite him.”
“It’s as good of reason as any other to pick a team.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Harry hasn’t thought of Mitch in ages. Mitch. He wonders if the pretentious fucker ever finished getting his masters.
“I came to a game here last year,” Louis says.
“I don’t even know who plays here.”
“Brooklyn Cyclones. Minor League. I went on Saved By the Bell night. They wore these hideous 90s jerseys, and gave out fluorescent pink sunglasses, and there were like, all these events during the game…”
“Sounds cool.”
Louis elbows him, and Harry looks down from the big building, the dizzying array of signage and colors. “And Mr. Belding was there.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Waited in line to get his autograph and everything.”
Harry snorted out a laugh. “That’s one way to spend a night.”
“Yeah, I’ve had worse times. I wonder what themed nights they have later this season. I’ll have to google.”
“So they do that often?”
“Yeah, all the time. I think they need reasons for people to come besides the baseball.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yeah, if there’s uh,” Louis clears his throat, “if there’s anything worthwhile, would you want to…”
Harry waits for Louis to finish his thought.
“Would you maybe want to go?” Louis rocks back on his heels, then up on his toes.
Maybe Harry should’ve expected that, but he didn’t. And he isn’t prepared to be smooth. “I don’t like baseball.”
“Oh.” Louis’ face falls. “Right. Of course. Sorry I—”
“No. Shit.” It’s a wonder anyone lets him out in public. “I didn’t mean ‘no.’ I meant. I don’t know anything about baseball. I don’t think I’ve been to a game since my dad signed me up for little league and I cried my way through three games and never went back.” Louis maintains eye contact and seems like he’s actually listening to Harry’s ramblings, and Harry keeps talking, “But, if it was really getting Mr. Belding’s autograph, with a side of baseball, I could be persuaded.”
“That sounds like it’s bordering on a yes.”
Harry shrugs, a smile on his face. “Google it and get back to me.”
***
The heat doesn’t let up as the afternoon passes. They walk back to the main area of the boardwalk, keeping in the shade as much as possible. When there’s an off-ramp to the amusement park, they make a beeline down the center of it. Harry’s still not super into the idea of going on rides, so they keep walking until Harry sees the arcade.
“Want to play?” Harry asks.
It’s shaded, so Harry’s glad they came across it. Unless this is one of the normal stops on Louis’ date course and they didn’t come across it by accident. But he tries not to think about that.
“Skee ball?” Louis asks.
“Fuck, yeah, I haven’t played in ages,” Harry says.
They play a few rounds, and Harry kicks Louis’ ass. It feels good, the gentle competitive kick that makes him want to try, and the tick in Louis’ jaw when he loses, again. Harry finally takes mercy on Louis, suggesting they move on to another game, maybe one that centers more around luck than any actual skill. Louis glowers at him, then breaks into a grin and loops his arm around Harry’s waist as they pick the next game.
“I like this,” Louis says, rubbing the fabric of Harry’s t-shirt. It’s one of his favorites, a vintage KISS tour shirt.
“You like KISS?”
“Not really. But I like this, on you,” Louis says.
“Oh. Thanks.” Harry puts another token in the Whack-a-Mole game. “I don’t like them either. Or, I don’t not like them, I guess? But it felt appropriate, for today.”
Louis’ eyebrows go sky high.
“Because of the neon,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “Has a beach-y vibe.”
“If you say so,” Louis says with a shake of his head. The machine’s lighting up and they wield their padded hammers.
“Hey,” Harry drawls, as Louis bumps him in the shoulder with the hammer.
“Jeans look good on you too,” Louis mutters, not quiet enough, and then they’re wacking the moles, and Harry’s trying not to smile too big.
After they collect their tickets, they race motorcycles and shoot basketballs, and try to catch fish and throw rings around bottles. They’re pretty shitty at almost all of the things, but they still end up with a good number of tickets by the time they’re ready to go. They empty their pockets of all their collected tickets and present a pile of them to the teenager standing behind the counter, who looks bored out of her skull.
“What should we get?” Louis asks.
“Whatever you want,” Harry says. It all looks like junk to him. He doesn’t have a use for a slinky or an eraser or tiny plastic frogs that jump if someone presses down on their tails.
“Really?”
“Yes? I really don’t care. Why, is this another test of yours?”
Louis frowns. “A test?”
“All your dates? You play arcade games then make them choose the prize? Right prize gets a another date.”
Louis shakes his head. “No. Nope. Not at all.” He rests an elbow on the counter and tilts his head up to make eye contact with Harry. “Haven’t been here before.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You should. You’re full of surprises, Styles.”
“Then what… I still don’t get this as like… as like, a personality test.”
“Hm. Well. I guess I never thought of it that way. It’s more… there’s a lot of different people here, lots to do. Seemed like a good barometer after this guy suggested it. It was like, our third date and he just…” Louis rolls his eyes. “It was the worst. He was making snarky comments about people on the beach and snarled at this kid who was crying. And he had clearly set up in his mind what the day was going to look like, like we couldn’t deviate from his plan at all. I was so angry he wouldn’t let me do the go karts because he was on some bonkers schedule.”
“We could do go karts next.”
“Nah,” Louis waves his hand in the air. “It wasn’t the go karts, specifically, but just that he couldn’t go with the flow at all. And he was an asshole. So, I started bringing others here, to see how’d they’d compare.”
“Makes sense.” Harry wants to ask how he measures up. He’s pretty easy going, but sometimes that’s just because he doesn’t care enough.
As if he’s reading Harry’s mind, Louis hip checks him and says, “Today’s been fun.”
“Yeah,” Harry says, it has been. “So what’re you going to choose?”
***
“Hungry?” Louis asks, spinning his brand-new neon keychain slash bottle opener around his finger.
“Yeah, should probably eat something before we go home.” Harry looks around. Fried clams didn’t sound great, nor did any other beach food. “What do you think?”
“We could do pizza, I think they opened a Grimaldi’s down here.”
“No, that’s… we can’t have Grimaldi’s at Coney Island. That’s reserved for walks across the Brooklyn Bridge.” Harry’s going to have to reconsider everything he thought about Louis if that was his suggestion.
“That was the test.” Louis grins. “The correct answer is Nathan’s.”
“Hot dog and fries.”
“Perfect end to the date.”
Louis grins again and Harry ducks his head. ”Grimaldi’s next week?” Louis asks.
“With me?” It’s been ages since someone wanted to go on a second date with him. Longer since Harry entertained the idea.
“I could go on my own, but it’d be much more interesting if you’d go with me.”
The lines at Nathan’s are as long as to be expected, and they join the end of one, barely sneaking in under the overhang. The lines on either side of them move forward a step.
“I always feel like I picked the wrong line,” Louis says.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Harry says as the line to their left takes another step forward.
“At least I’ve got good company while we wait.”
Harry stares straight ahead even as he feels Louis looking at him for a reaction. “Louis, you don’t have to like, say shit like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like, pretending I’m good company.”
“I— But you are?”
Harry knows he’s not. And he knows why Louis says it, it’d be rude to imply otherwise. But… he doesn’t have the energy to accept platitudes, especially ones that are just said to be polite.
Harry focuses on the menus repeating on the wall. “What’re you going to get?”
“Hot Dog. Lemonade. Bacon Ranch fries.”
“Bacon Ranch? Is that any good?”
“Yeah, you should try.”
Harry knows he’s making a face. “I’ll probably stick with cheese fries. But, maybe I’ll try yours?”
“Only if you get your own little red fork,” Louis says. Harry’s pretty sure he's kidding with the smirk on his face, but he isn’t be sure.
After ordering, then walking to the ketchup and accessories table, Harry and Louis sit side by side at a picnic table, eating in near silence. Louis is right about the bacon ranch fries, and Harry ends up eating about half of them.
***
Harry’s tired and achy on his way back. The kind of tired that only comes from a spent out in the sun. He’s looking forward to turning all his fans on high, grabbing a cold beer, and starfishing naked in his bed as soon as he gets home.
The subway is more crowded on the trip back towards Manhattan than it was in the morning, everyone sunburn and half-asleep and reveling in the air conditioning. Harry and Louis are pressed thigh to thigh on the crowded train.
“Sleepy?” Louis asks.
“Yeah,” Harry murmurs. “Long day.”
“Was it good, though?” Louis asks as he picks at the hem of his shorts.
“Yeah.” It was. “Best day I’ve in a while, to be honest.”
“Good,” Louis says. “Wasn’t sure.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah. Really good. You seemed… hesitant… when I mentioned another date, so if you say no, I won’t push it, but I really would like to see you again.”
Harry shrugs. “I feel like this was an anomaly.”
“What was?”
“Me.”
“You?”
“Yeah, like, having energy. Being personable.” Even that’s debatable. “I… it’s hard some days.”
Louis nods. “I’m… Well, I get it. My meds make it bearable. But like, I understand.”
Harry nods, because what else is there to say.
“I’d be okay, like, just chilling, though. On days that aren’t as good as this one.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” Louis rocks into him, bumping their shoulders too.
“Okay.”
Louis smiles. “Okay.”
Harry’s head feels heavy and he rests it on the wall.
“Here,” Louis says. “You can rest on my shoulder, if you want.”
Harry smiles. It’s only a few more stops until he’s going to get off, but he makes himself comfortable.