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“Fuck, Harry, right there. Don’t fucking stop, dammit.” Louis’s words are a jagged breath across my neck as I fuck him, hard like he likes it.
Our bodies slide together easily, slick with sweat on the humid tour bus, and I try not to laugh at the squeaking suction-y noises my chest makes against Lou’s.
“Harry. God, feels so good. I’m gonna come soon. Fuck me,” he babbles, not being nearly quiet enough.
I turn my head to his ear and whisper something filthy, hoping to shut him up, but it backfires.
“Fuck, Haz!” His body goes stiff, and I feel warmth and stickiness on my stomach right before giving in to my own orgasm.
I nearly lose my vision, arms quivering to support my weight and abs clenched tightly. Finally spent, I roll to the right, nearly falling off the little twin bed, and collapse at Louis’s side. He pants heavily and lays one hand casually across my bum, which tickles a bit but I don’t have it in me to flinch.
“Thank fuck they’ve finished,” Niall mumbles from somewhere close by, but we either don’t hear him or pretend not to, unwilling to break from our little bubble just yet.
It’s always like this with us. So perfect in private that bits of what we have seep out, visible (or audible) to those around us. We’re young though and just reckless enough not to be more careful.
I try to imagine what it would be like to do all of this--the press, the tour, the screaming fans--without him. I can’t.
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Louis tosses his phone on my hotel bed and flings himself across my legs. “Have you seen this shit on Twitter?”
“Umm, what particular shit are you referring to?”
“People calling us ‘Larry’. It’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?” He uses air quotes around the word Larry and rolls his eyes for emphasis.
I clear my throat to buy myself some time in answering. I had thought the Larry comments were kind of spot-on.
“Well, I mean, we are sort of together, just like they’re saying we’re together. Is that ridiculous?”
He huffs and bumps his hip against my side. “You know what I mean, Haz.”
No actually I don’t,” I say, sitting up and looking down at him seriously. “Is it a problem if the fans say that we’re together?”
“Well, no, I mean. It’s just, you know, management will get all paranoid about it and give us a lecture. Let’s not bicker. C’mere.” He pulls me on top of him and kisses me like he’s trying to make up.
But I can’t help but worry about how he really feels.
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“I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to make up your mind, Lou. Honestly! Enough is enough. You’re either in or you aren’t, and I think I know which one.” I prepared the speech the night before, sleeping on Nick’s couch and wondering what the hell I’m doing.
And I get the exact reaction I knew would come. Louis’s eyes well up with tears, and he latches onto my forearm, pleading.
“I just need more time, Harry. You know this is a really hard situation for me. We can’t all be like you, cool and confident all the fucking time. Just give me a few more weeks to sort it.”
The sad thing is I want to believe him. I want to believe he and Eleanor aren’t growing closer, their relationship mirroring that of their public image more and more each day. I want to believe that he isn’t ashamed to be with me, would be happy to say that he’s my boyfriend. But I know that if it hasn’t happened yet, it won’t.
I speak softly, giving up the battle. “You don’t need a few weeks, Louis. You’ve had months. We’ve been doing this for months.”
After several long moments punctuated by Lou’s sniffles, he turns his head my way.
“Do you love her?” I have to know. My heart might not take it but my head will go crazy wondering.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, Harry. You have to believe me.” His whispers echo around in my chest, once filled with love and now cold and empty.
I want to believe him. But I can’t.
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“So I hear you’ve been going out a lot.”
“Yeah,” I respond flatly, trying to act bored with my phone in hand.
“You and Radio 1’s finest are pretty close now, eh?”
“He has a name.” I can’t prevent the slow smile that spreads across my face. “But yeah, he’s good. Things are good.”
I risk a glance at Lou, but it still stings, like scratching a few days’ old sunburn, so I look away quickly.
“Good. That’s ... good.”
The awkward silence is painful. I know I should do the right thing, be polite and ask about her, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
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“S’not like that.” My voice gets more agitated each time I have to defend my relationship with Nick to the boys. I know they’re just taking the piss but after about twelve times, it’s gotten awkward.
“Liam, if he says it’s not a thing, then it’s not a thing.”
“Thanks Louis.” I try not to act shocked that he’s the one to finally speak up.
“Okay then. New topic,” Niall says. “Are the girls flying with us or separate?”
“Girls?” I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach at his words.
“Eleanor and Danielle are joining us for the VMAs later this week. Thought you’d heard.” Louis sounds almost apologetic and avoids my eyes.
“Oh. Right. Well that makes sense, sure.” I close my eyes and pretend to sleep until Liam kicks my foot and tells me it’s time to leave. We can all go home.
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Just when I’m about to hang up, she picks up, breathless from God knows what.
“Harry? Darling? I didn’t think I’d hear from you today! Not too busy getting ready for the big awards show?”
“Hi Mum. Nah, I’m pretty much packed and ready. Lou’s got the worst of it with the clothes and makeup and all. She’s running around like crazy. Keeps calling us about shirts and things we can’t be arsed to know the answers to. She thinks we’re a worthless lot.”
“Well, I know you’re going to be great. I just can’t wait to see you there. My sweet boy!”
“Oy, Mum.” I roll my eyes and try to decide if I should even broach the topic I called about. “So, I had a question?”
“Yes, Harry. What is it?”
“You know my friend Nick? Well, I mean, what if I might fancy him a bit?”
“Oh Harry! Do you? I never even thought about him that way. I mean, you get on well and you seem really happy whenever you’re hanging around him, but he’s quite a bit older isn’t he?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point. The point is I’m still trying to get over Louis, and I don’t want anything bad to happen. Like, get hurt again or hurt him or something like that.” The tears well up immediately, and I can’t fight them. “I shouldn’t like someone already, right? Tell me it’s too soon.”
“Oh, my poor baby.” She sighs, and if I know her at all, I know she’s tearing up a bit too. “What’s the right time for one person, for one relationship, is never the same as the right time for another. You’ll know. When it’s right, you’ll know. I love you, dear.”
“Love you too, Mum.” I dry my eyes, wandering around my room with a cup of tea and wishing the awards show would just be over already. “G’night.”
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I try not to notice how he grips my hand backstage, both of us tense about the performance. Instead I focus on calming my own nerves, steadying my breathing, and warming up my voice.
I pretend like he doesn’t pull me into a body-slamming hug when we win, caught up in the adrenaline rush of the moment. No, I blow that off too, immersing myself in replying to amusing texts that Nick has sent throughout the evening. My favorite: Just seen Eleanor in the audience. Tell her I said nice collar. ;)
But this I can’t ignore. The VMAs are over--the group split up long ago--and Eleanor’s just gone to bed, claiming jet lag. It’s two o’clock in the morning, and somehow only Louis and I are left sitting side by side in a dark corner of the hotel bar, when he places his hand on my thigh, leaning his head against my arm.
“Hazza,” he whispers, almost blissfully.
I swallow hard, trying to remember how many drinks he’s had. I think I’ve only seen him with three or four throughout the course of the night.
“Lou,” I warn.
“Oh, Harry. Harry Styles. Can’t we just ... celebrate?” His chin rests on my shoulder, lips entirely too close to my own, and his hand moves higher, nearer to where I’m suddenly aching.
His lips are on mine before I can blink. Soft, warm, inviting. I want to be invited. I want to linger and remember and forget, and ... I can’t.
I pull away firmly, placing a hand on Louis’s arm to push his hand away.
“No. We can’t.” I stand up and drain my drink, throw some bills on the table. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m the one that should be apologizing.” And I walk away.
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Instead of flying back with Zayn and Niall, I spend a few days in LA alone. Mostly thinking, laying to rest this chapter of my life. The thing is, Louis and I will always be linked. There will always be a reason I could want him, could love him, could miss him. But I feel good about not giving in to those things anymore. I feel ready for more. I deserve more.
So I fly home and go straight to the one person I’ve been most happy with during this entire thing.
“Ahh, the popstar has returned!”
I shove him playfully, grinning instantly at his voice. “Yep. Back in the flesh.”
“S’good to see you, truly.” He hugs me, pulling me into his flat and shutting the door.
“You too,” I mumble into his shoulder.
“C’mon. I was just putting on some tea and getting ready for work. How was fabulous LA? Not ready to move there, I hope?”
“It was good. I had some good time to myself and stuff.” I relax onto a stool at his kitchen counter and feel warm, at home, content.
Nick goes on some tangent about tomorrow being his last night show ever, and I can’t stop staring at his mouth, wondering for the hundredth time what those lips feel like. My mum’s words suddenly echo in my head. “When it’s right, you’ll know.”
And I do know. I launch myself across the narrow counter, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him in for a sloppy, greedy kiss. I can’t help myself, realizing only now just how long I’ve actually wanted this. How long I’ve been holding myself back, thinking I shouldn’t.
He’s surprised at first, but returns my kiss with just as much force as I need and want, only pulling away briefly to breathe, “Are you sure?” against my lips.
“Definitely,” I reply, trying to tug him by the shirt around the counter.
He moves slowly, dragging his feet. “Harry. What about ... you know? Louis.”
I close my eyes briefly and let my chest fill with a deep breath before responding. “I’m ready. I was in LA and I started thinking about everything, and I realized that the happiest I am is when I’m around you, you know? And yeah, it still hurts some to see him, but doesn’t it always with an ex? I know I don’t have much experience but I feel like a bit of me was left with him and will stay there. But that doesn’t mean I’m not whole again.” I tangle my fingers in his shirt hem and pull him to stand between my legs. “I want to be with you, Nick.”
He smiles, and all I want is his lips on my own again, but he pulls back once more. “Bout fuckin’ time, yeah?”
We kiss for a bit, and just when I get used to the way his tongue feels, he pulls me off the stool and leads me down the short hallway to his room. Even though this is what I want, I blush.
“So, we’re like a thing now right? Like, I don’t have to directly answer questions about us but if people assume we’re together, then they can assume and that’s just fine?”
He stops his steps and pulls me to his side. “Harry, of course. I’m not about to start hiding who I am just because my boyfriend’s an actual popstar.” He gets a deliciously teasing look on his face. “Is that it? Do I need to ask you be my boyfriend then?”
The sound that comes out of my mouth can only be described as a giggle and I tackle him to the floor with a loud “Yes!” and tickling him in the spot only I know he’s ticklish in.
And when I try to imagine the path before me--same band, another tour, but this time with a new relationship, having Nick in my life in that way--this time, I can.