Harry's eyes swept over the view he had from his hotel room. It wasn't anything like New York. There were trees and birds and he could see the sun sinking behind hills.
Harry let out a breath, wishing he could stay here, in Doncaster, for the rest of his life. It was so nice.
His phone buzzed on the bedside table, signaling he had a text message. He picked up his phone, not at all surprised to see it was from Zayn.
Did you get there well? I miss you already. -Zaynie
While it was three in the afternoon in New York, it was eight at night here in Doncaster.
Harry sighed as he undid his shirt buttons, getting ready to change and go out for a while. He needed a breather.
After changing into more laid-back clothing, Harry swiped back his long hair and sent Zayn a quick message.
Yeah, babe, it's getting late here, so I'm going to turn in. I'll call you in the morning, beautiful! xH
With a sigh of relief, Harry shoved his phone into the back pocket of his skinny jeans, put his hotel room key in his wallet, added the wallet to his pocket, and left the room.
He had rented a car at the airport- a very nice Range Rover. Harry, being a full-time model, made plenty of money and he could probably afford to buy a Range Rover of his own, but he preferred his milky-white convertible, especially with living in such a high-paced city like New York.
It was weird to drive on the other side of the road again, but Harry visited the U.K. often to see his family, so he still had his license for this country as well.
Harry drove around Doncaster, looking for a place to get a beer. He finally spotted a club, pulling along side it and getting out. There wasn't a line and Harry discovered, once he entered the club, that it wasn't too full.
Harry went straight to the bar, ordering a shot of Fireball whiskey. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he muscles relaxed immediately, ordering another shot and downing it in one go.
"You better slow down, big boy," a high voice said, interrupting Harry from ordering another shot.
Harry's emerald eyes wondered beside him and his heart sped up immediately. Climbing onto the stool beside him was a lad- but Harry wasn't really positive if it was a lad completely.
The boy was petite, but rather curvy, with killer hips. He was dressed in tight, light-wash skinny jeans, wrapped snugly around delicious-looking thighs, along with a skin-tight, fringed, sleeveless Rolling Stones tee. Fringed black ankle boots gave him a few extra inches of height and a crown of roses sat in his feathery hair. The clothes weren't the only off thing, the boy was also wearing makeup.
Of course, Harry wore makeup when modeling, but this lad was really wearing it, and something was telling Harry that this stranger wore it on a daily basis.
"I'm Louis Tomlinson," the high voice spoke, smiling shyly.
"I'm Harry... Harry Styles," the man breathed, watching as the boy crossed his legs. He looked no older than sixteen, honestly.
"What's a man as handsome as you doing alone in a bar on a Friday night?" Louis asked, batting his eyelashes over his crystal blue eyes.
"I think I should be asking you that, pretty boy," Harry replied, signaling for another shot.
"I'm technically not alone. I have friends here with me," Louis replied, watching as Harry took his third shot.
"I may or may not have friends with me," Harry replied curtly, thinking of Zayn.
"Oh, you aren't from here," Louis said immediately, smirking when Harry raised an eyebrow. "I mean.. Look at you. You're clearly not from around here."
"You're correct," Harry replied, nodding.
"Alas... You're married," Louis added, pointing out Harry's silver wedding band. "Tough blow. I was totally planning on seducing you."
Louis's words were casual, thrown out as if it was no big deal, and maybe, to this lad, it wasn't.
"How old are you, Louis?" Harry asked suddenly, turning to completely face the latter.
"I'm eighteen," Louis said proudly, smiling.
"Eighteen? Older than I thought."
"How old are you? Twenty-four?"
"Twenty-six, nearly twenty- seven."
"Damn, I was close," Louis hummed, still smirking wickedly, reaching out a delicate hand to tuck a loose strand of Harry's hair behind his ear.
"Well, we were both about two years off, so I guess-"
"You thought I was sixteen?" Louis gasped playfully, leaning away from Harry, and, yeah, the older man automatically drifted closer out of instinct. Louis was like a magnet. "Where's your husband?" Louis asked quietly.
"At home." Louis raised an eyebrow. "In New York," Harry added.
Louis grinned, hopping down delicately from his seat. "Well, Mr. Styles, I'm sure dancing with me would be no harm, correct?"
Harry watched as Louis swayed his hips, seemingly not even knowing his was doing it, sort of like a puppy wagging it's tail.
"That would be correct. A dance would be fine," Harry agreed, standing up and offering a hand to Louis, who took it and dragged Harry to the dance floor.
~~~
Oh, a little dance won't hurt, huh?
Haha, hope you guys will enjoy this.
Xx
