Fooled (Larry Stylinson) ✅

10. The Date

  Louis' POV  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Of course out of all the days of the years, today had to be the one day that there was a train delay on six different tracks. I was stuck in Times Square, or as I like to call it, a sweaty silver of hell, trying to get onto a downtown train. But life was not agreeing with me and the wait time was increasing by the minute. Just a few minutes ago it had said the train was 10 minutes away. Now it was saying it was 15. Normally, this train came every 4 minutes.

It was now 7:45 and there was no way I was going to make it to the restaurant on the subway, but getting a cab also wasn't an option because all of my ride share apps were charging double price because of 'increased demand.' Fuck all these tourists near Times Square. I certainly didn't have 42$ to spend on a taxi ride.

Finally, as I emerged from the subway, the polluted underground air leaving my lungs, I began to walk the 20 blocks it was going to take me to 21st Street. I quickly whipped out my phone and texted Harry: "train trouble, gonna be a bit late. So sorry!"

Harry was coming from Brooklyn, so he probably wasn't having train issues. Great, I thought. Of course it all has to go to shit.

I was practically speed walking as I made my way down the city blocks, my arms pumping like one of those soccer moms on the high school track.

As I wheezed, I realized it had been far too long since I had done any kind of physical activity, and noticed that sweat was getting all over my black V-neck. You can't see sweat stains on a black shirt, but you can sure smell them.

"Ugh," I mumbled to myself. People in New York talk to themselves all the time -- well, maybe they're using Bluetooth or something, but I can pretend right? "Gonna be a sweaty mess."

I started to slow down my pace as I got to 34th street, and that's when my phone buzzed. It was Harry: "No worries, Lou. Running a bit late myself. See you soon."

Why is he so damn charming? Even the simplest messages felt like romantic novels when he wrote them. My heart felt light and sweet as I continued down my path, wincing as I realized it was already 7:58. I guess we would both be late.

I finally got to the restaurant around 8:15pm. Harry was already there, standing by himself near the hostess' desk wearing earbuds and checking his email.

And oh my god he looked gorgeous.

He was wearing dark blue skinny jeans and floral print collared T-shirt, with a black background and big orange and pink flower blossoms that seemed to make his bright green eyes pop.

His long hair was freely flowing on his back and he bit his lip a little as he looked up and saw me standing there, sort of just staring as I tried to fix my dissheveled outfit.

"Lou, so good to see you," he said cheerily, rushing over to me and wrapping me into a tight hug. I felt our torsos touch, but since Harry was so tall, my chest was sort of initially pressing on his stomach. Sensing the awkward positioning, he bent down a bit, allowing me to hug him more fully, inhalinghis floral cologne. He smelled like a mix between bourbon and tulips— if there's even such a thing.

"You too, good to see you!" I repeated as he peeled himself out of my arms. I kind of wish the hug had lasted longer. But honestly, I could have stood there and hugged him all day...

Harry nodded with a polite smile, his eyes sparkling a little, and then began to walk to the front desk where the hostess was stationed. That's when I realized I had made the reservation.

"Hey, um. I made a reservation for two. Tomlinson," I said quickly, sort of embarrassed that I had made a reservation because the place was nearly empty. I guess I was blushing or making one of my famously awkward faces because I felt Harry put a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and warm upon the thin layer of my shirt.