Sidelines

Part title

"A few scouts were talking to me after the game, been practically throwing offers at me," Louis informs the group of six or seven around him. Harry knows it's probably not true, because winning shot or no, Louis still played a pretty shit game. He finds himself trailing off whatever he was saying to Liam in order to tune into Louis' ridiculous boasting and scowl.

"I already know I'm going to be captain next year, they'll be begging me to join their teams," Louis continues, making Harry snort into his cup as he takes a drink. Liam gives him a tired look, but he's too drunk for that to stop him.

"Bullshit, Tomlinson, you're gonna have to work on taking your own shots first," He snorts loudly.

"Not my fault all you're good at is falling on your arse, Styles," Louis calls back, rolling his eyes.

"Harry," Liam sighs. Even he knows it's useless at this point.

"Is that why Coach put me in to save your arse?" Harry snaps.

"He put you in so you'd get off your knees and stop begging him," Louis bites back.

"As if you know anything about getting off your knees," Harry retorts, earning a round of 'oohs'. Louis narrows his eyes and takes a step closer to Harry. Harry rolls his eyes, squaring his broad shoulders as Liam glares between the two of them.

"Please stop," Liam pleads, watching the two of them step closer to each other.

Louis snorts, ignoring Liam's pleas.

"Coming from someone who can barely get Nick fucking Grimshaw to take them home,"

"I'm a bit afraid of what you might have gave him to be honest." Harry replies, crossing his arms over his chest. Louis pushes his chest out and sets his drink down, and Harry's still got a good three inches on him (that doesn't include his quiff). Their bickering dissolves into unintelligible insults, both of them shouting over the pumping music at the same time. That is, until Liam shoves the two of them apart with a scowl etched onto his face.

"That's enough. You two are fucking ridiculous, and you both have extra drills at practice tomorrow," He snaps. Harry and Louis both glare at each other before storming off in different directions.

"Dude," Liam sighs as soon as Louis' out of earshot.

"What?" Harry snaps, his eyes still hard and his expression closed off.

"You've gotta cut this shit out. Seriously, why do you hate each other so much anyway-"

"You saw what he did out on the ice-"

"No, in the first place. What'd he do?" Liam asks, eyes curious. Harry huffs, his eyes looking over Liam's head as he speaks.

"He's just a douche, alright?" He answers, picking up his drink and taking a long swig. The room feels too hot, like he needs to step outside and clear his head. He wishes he had something to smoke.

"Can you please try not to fight with him? We're so close to the championships and two of our best players can not be at each other throats." Liam sighs.

"I hate him," Harry says unnecessarily, pouting.

"That's obvious," Liam snorts.

"I think I need some air. I might turn in early, actually, tell Niall I don't want to hear him fucking tonight and not to bring anyone back to his room or else I'll tell everyone about his James Van Der Beek obsession," Harry says. Liam nods with a sigh, waving to Harry as he walks away.

He takes a can of cheap beer to go, stumbling out of the ASP house and towards his own. Harry has been in Sigma Pi since his freshman year at Penn State, Niall convincing him to join so they could go to all the parties and so Niall could meet sorority sisters. Harry had been apprehensive at first, but there's really never any saying no to Niall. It's like kicking a puppy. Now though, he doesn't regret it a bit, because he's met some of his best mates through the house and through hockey. When he opens the front door the house is dead silent, everyone either at the party or asleep in bed already.