New Guy on the Street (Larry)

Chapter Ten: It's a Little Hot In Here

It was currently Wednesday and my day could not have started out any worse. Right when I woke up, I realized I had a project due for science today. I had the entire weekend and two week days to work on it, but I didn't because I'm a dumbass. Then, my shower wouldn't warm up. Then, I finally managed to make myself look presentable and went downstairs to get something to eat. When I poured myself a glass of orange juice, I looked over to the kitchen island to see my mother had left a note saying, 'Louis is sick. You have to walk today. Don't be late. Love, Mom'. When I looked at the clock and saw I had less than 20 minutes to walk a 25 minute walk to school and turn in my project before the bell rang, I lost it and spilt my juice all over my shirt. It was the second time I did that this month. By the time I had changed, it was too late to make it to school on time. I was so over today.



Until I got a phone call.



"I never saw you leave for school," Louis' says sternly through the phone, right after I press answer- only it's hard to take him seriously when he sounds so nasally. "You better be as sick as me or dead."



"Neither," I say back to him with my grumpy tone. I don't really have time to get chewed out by him about the importance of school. "I'm ditching."



"Harry, I will get out of my bed, walk to your house, and sneeze on you if you don't start walking right now." I roll my eyes. One thing that annoys me about Louis is that he will always try to tell me what to do. I do understand that he is older than me, but he isn't my father or anything so he really has no right.



"I guess I'll have to be snot sprayed because I'm not going," I retort sourly. Right now, I probably sound like a teenage girl on her period.



"Are you alright?" he asks me after a while of silence. He sniffles. "I thought you were all about perfect attendance." He's right. I am. But as of right now, due to my shitty morning, I couldn't care less.



"So?"



"Come over." It's those two little words that make me hang up my phone and race out of my door. The house was too stuffy even though I was alone. All it would do was remind me of my morning and remind me I had school. I think Louis will remind me too, but at least it's not in a way that will make me want to punch a wall. Once I reach his door, I bend down and lift the rock that hides his spare key and pick up the shiny metal. I know he's in his bedroom right now because that's really the only room aside from the kitchen that you can see the sidewalk from. He would have had to of been looking out of his window for me to be walking by. Probably my mother's orders or something like that.



"Hey," I say awkwardly as I slowly open his door. He's in his bed with a box of tissues next to his head and dirty ones in the trash can he placed beside him.



"Hey," he says while looking me over. "You don't look too good. And that's coming from the sick guy." I nod and walk further into his room closing his door behind me and leaning on it. He raises an eyebrow at me. "Why are you so grumpy this morning, curls?"



"I had a really bad morning," I say to put it simply. And Night I think to myself. It's true about the night part too. I had a dream about my mother and Al coming to a party with Louis and I that got us busted for all sorts of things we didn't do. I stayed up so late thinking about what that meant that I got literally three hours of sleep.



"Do you need to talk about it?" he asks me.



"No," I say.



"Good. I might have fallen asleep on you there," he says with a slight smirk. He lets out a terrible cough that makes me jump. "God, how did I get so sick?" I remain silent while he complains. "I'll bet you it was that dumb Wayne kid that I told to sanitize his hands after he sneezed but he never did. I'm going to give him homework so hard the next time I see him."



"How can you know for sure that it was him?" I ask as I walk over to him. "It could have been anybody."



"Oh, it was him, alright," he says while sitting up and propping himself on a pillow. "My teacher senses are tingling. You have to have those when you have a bunch of grimy teenagers in your classroom." I fake a hurt face.



"You don't think I'm grimy, do you?" I joke.



"Grimiest of all," he responds with a slight smile. I giggle a bit at him going along with my joke, though I was searching for more of a 'oh of course not!'. I reach out to feel his forehead, feeling a bit pleased - though I don't really know why - when he closes his eyes at the touch.



"You're burning up," I say when I get a feel of his hot skin.



"I know," he says with a chuckle. "I find it funny how fevers work. You're freezing on the inside but on fire on the outside."



"Like a reverse Hot Pocket," I point out. He nods.



"Like a reverse Hot Pocket," he confirms. I suddenly yawn loudly.



"Excuse me," I say, before yawning again. He chuckles at me.



"Are you tired?" I nod. "If you aren't afraid of getting sick, you can lay down with me and take a nap. I need some rest too," he says.



"Aren't you going to yell at me and tell me to go to school?" I ask, really wondering why he hasn't done it yet. He shakes his head.



"Nah. I'm sure you'll get enough of that when they call your mother at work," he says. "Oh and by the way, you were never here." I laugh at him.



"Okay. I was never here," I say, "but, since I was never here, I'll have to come up with an explanation of why I got sick. What should it be? Infected mosquito? Nuclear reaction?"



"Okay, smartass. I'm not healthy enough to put up with your sarcasm. When you get sick, tell your mother you came here after school yesterday and that's where you caught it." I guess he does make a good point. My mom does know that Louis and I have been spending a lot of time together recently. She'd probably wonder why I wasn't already sick. That is, if I do end up sick after today.



"That'll work," I say before kicking off my shoes and plopping in his bed with him. I pull the covers up to his chin to keep him warm. Something I've found weird about Louis is that he can't sleep without a fan on, even if his house is already cold enough. Maybe that's why he's freezing right now. He tells me all of the time that he is a hot sleeper and just has to have to fan on. I just find that strange.



"Harry," he starts to complain. "I don't need this much cover."



"You're freezing. You said it earlier," I point out. "Don't be stubborn." I poke his cheek and he glares at me.



"I'm not stubborn, I'm going to melt." I roll my eyes at him as I lay back onto one of his pillows.



"You're stubborn."



"Don't be a douche, curls. I can knock you right out of this bed," he says jokingly, "make you hit your head all over the floor."



"Not my precious head!" He chuckles and wraps an arm around me and snuggles into my side. "Go to sleep, Louis," I say, stroking his arm. He makes a sort of satisfied sigh.



"You too. I know you're tired. You look like crap," he says. He lifts his head and looks at me, "No offence."



"I'll let this go because you're sick," I say in a warning tone. "But next time, you'll have to deal with my mates." He raises an eyebrow in confusion until I lift my fists up.



"I'll keep that in mind," he says, placing his head on my chest. After a while, nobody's said anything and I'm beginning to think Louis is asleep. That is until he starts speaking again. "You know, I'm kind of glad you ditched school today. I'd be bored out of my mind right now." I just shush him and continue to stroke his arm.



"Go to sleep. You need to sleep," I say softly. He nods into my chest. Soon, I hear his breathing slow down and soft, quiet little snores coming from his mouth. Satisfied at him finally falling asleep, I close my eyes too. Soon, I'm having another weird dream that I can't explain.



I'm laying down in some weird clearing where there is tall grass everywhere, except for where I'm lying. Louis is next to me, cuddled into my side, sighing happily. "Do you regret it?" I hear myself ask. I don't know why I ask it, but I do.





"No," he responds.





"Regret what, curls?" He asks. My eyes flutter open and I look around the room. I'm back in Louis' bedroom. I meet his eyes. "Regret what, Harry?"



"I don't know," I say. "I think I must have been sleep talking." He laughs a bit.



"I'll say," he says. "Do you do that often?"



"I used to all of the time when I was little," I respond. I remember one night my mom came into my room thinking I was talking to someone. She was really angry from what I can remember. Well, until she figured out I was asleep. She woke me up and asked what I was dreaming about, but I couldn't remember what the dream was. Come to think of it, I could never remember what any of my dreams were about that she woke me up from. I wonder why I can remember this one so well.



"Who were you talking to?" he asks.



"You," I respond.



"Did I regret it?" he asks.



"No." His face is unreadable. I furrow my eyebrows together. "Why? Do you have anything to regret."



"No," he says slowly. He looks over to his clock on his wall. "Do you realize we slept for nine hours?" he changes the subject, "well, not me. I mainly watched you sleep for the last hour."



"Why didn't you just wake me?" I ask confusedly. I find it a bit strange that he just watched me sleep for so long. I would get tired of it after the first few minutes. Especially if I was watching me.



"You're cute when you sleep," he says with a wink. He gets up from his bed and stretches. "I have to pee, so excuse me." He walks into the bathroom that is connected to his bedroom. I get out of his bed too, turning around and tidying it up a bit. I look down gulping as I'm reminded this is the bed Louis and I had a drunken night in. Today is the first day I've slept in it since then. I look over at the clock seeing that it reads five after five. My eyes widen. My mother got off of work at four today. I'm dead.



"What's wrong?" he asks as he walks back into his room.



"I've got to go," I say pointing towards the clock. "My mom is probably home and waiting at the door with a belt." He laughs at me.



"Tell her what I told you to say," he says with a shrug. I nod.



"I'll try it, though I don't like lying to her."



"It's not really lying," he points out, "you were over here yesterday."



"I guess you're right," I say. "Thanks for not chewing me out or anything today. I know I'm gonna get it when I get home."



"My pleasure," he says. "You feel better." He gets into his bed again.



"What?" I ask. He's the sick one. I should be the one saying that to him.



"You're sick, remember?" he says. Oh yeah.



"Oh," I say. "You feel better too."



"I doubt I will."



"Do you need anything before I go?" I ask.



"Maybe just a hug," he says, sitting up and holding his arms out wide like a five year old. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around him tightly.



"There," I say, pulling back as much as I can before he pulls me back to him. "Louis, what are you doing?"



"Nothing," he hums, looking into my eyes. I look at him confusedly. He won't let me go.



"If you aren't doing anything, you wouldn't mind letting me-" I'm cut off as he places his lips on mine lightly. My eyes widen. What is he doing? My hands are limp at my sides and I have no clue if I even kissed him back before he pulls away. "What was that for?" I ask him quietly while the colour rolls onto my cheeks.



He just shrugs. "I don't know curls. All that I know it that I don't regret it," is all he says before laying back down on his pillow and shutting his eyes. The pleased smile playing on his lips makes me begin to feel nervous. I needed to get out of his house.



"Feel better, Louis," I say, trying my hardest not to sound too awkward.



"Thanks, curls," he says. I don't respond. Instead, I open his bedroom door and exit his room, shutting it behind me. I race out of his house and for my home, faster than I raced there this morning. I make it into my house a panting mess.



"There you are! I was one minute away from calling the police," my mother says when I make my way into the kitchen for a glass of water. "You weren't at school today and you weren't home when I got back from work. Explain." I grab a glass and fill it up from the tap, taking a sip and sitting down before talking. I wanted to have my breathing back to normal before talking to her.



"I was at Mr. Tomlinson's," I say calmly, cringing when I don't call him Louis, but then realizing he isn't here to chew me out until I correct myself.



"Why?" She demands angrily.



"I woke up this morning feeling sick," I say, drinking from the water. I'm not the best at lying so I'm trying my hardest to make her believe me. "I think I must have caught something from Mr. Tomlinson when I went over to his house for the past few days."



"Well you could have at least left a note," she says. Good. She believed my story. "I was worried sick. Why did you even go to his house, anyway?"



"We took care of each other," I say. She nods and reaches over to me, feeling my forehead like I had done for Louis earlier. Louis.



"You do feel a little warm, so you're not lying," she says. "Run up to bed and get some rest. I'll come up later to check on you." I internally groan. I've slept so much today that the thought makes me want to puke. Instead of telling her that, I respond with a 'yes ma'am' and make my way to my room.



I end up taking a shower before laying back down and turning on the T.V. I don't even watch whatever show is on because I'm thinking of what happened back at Louis' place. It had to have been his fever talking (or kissing). There could have been no way he would have done that if he wasn't ill. I convince myself just that and try to drop the subject and just lie in my bed watching 'Friends' reruns.



Turns out, I did actually have Louis' cold.







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A/N: Hey. This was longer than usual wasn't it? I realized as I was writing this that it may be going fast paced and all this may be happening in a weird way instead of just easing into it. I'd like to point out that the chapters go by days and that a chapter is just what happens on one day. Whatever happens in the next chapter depends on what day it is. So if sometime you're reading this in the future and all of the sudden you go to a new chapter and feel like you missed a chunk, just remember this.



Hasta Lasagna (What's up with all of the Suite Life references?)



Charlotte XX