8 Fading Zen

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"Where do you want to eat? Are you in the mood for something in particular?" Harry scuffed his foot against the pavement as they walked.

"Hmm." Louis looked to the sky thoughtfully. "I could go for a small sweet chicken dish and a light vinaigrette salad." He heard Harry's footsteps stop behind him. Louis halted and turned around to look at him.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A small. Sweet. Chicken dish." He paused. "And what else?"

Louis scowled slightly. "A light vinaigrette salad."

"Right. A light vinaigrette salad." Harry repeated. "At least I'll never have to worry about you making decisions." His tone was light-hearted and he laughed.

"Eh, I suppose I'm pretty opinionated about most things. If I don't already have a decision made, then it's better to make a quick one rather than waste my time. It gets things done more efficiently, you know?"

Harry started walking again. "You definitely sound like a you manage a business. Though I wouldn't expect a massage therapist to be so impatient. Then again, I knew you weren't a patient person from the moment I saw you." His eyes lit up as he looked at Louis.

"Oh? And why is that?" Louis fished for more information.

Harry shrugged. "It's just the vibe you gave off. And maybe the fact that you wouldn't stand in that office and talk to me for more than a minute before disposing of me in some way."

Did I offend him?

"I mean, I wasn't trying to dispose of you at all. I was just trying to solve the problem. I-I didn't offend you that night, did I?" Louis' stomach started to bubble with anxiety.

Harry looked shocked. "No! No, not at all. I just could tell you were eager to do something about it. It's a good thing. You're a doer. Not many people are doer's anymore. You are quick thinking on your feet. And that's balanced out well by your whole stationary, relaxed, Zen-energy thing you've got going."

Louis nodded his head once. If only Harry knew what was inside. "So, chicken? Salad? Something else? Aside from pizza. I will knee you in the kidney if you say pizza."

Harry let out a hearty laugh. "Sweet chicken and a light salad sounds delicious. Pizza is too greasy and for me. I'm watching my girlish figure anyway." Harry batted his eyelashes and rubbed a hand up his hip and waist playfully. Louis laughed at his childish antics. "Besides, it's polo season, so I have to make sure I'm eating clean."

"Okay, well I know the perfect place then. And we're almost there. It's a French restaurant." Louis responded.

"French?" Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Do you speak any other languages?"

"I'm quite fluent in Spanglish." Louis smirked to himself.

"Really now? You must tutor me in your ways Mr. Tomlinson. I've tried for years, and it just doesn't seem to be coming to me." Harry's voice was laced with humor.

"I don't know Styles. People pay me big money for my time. I think I'd be too expensive for you." Louis retorted sassily and flipped his fringe out of his face.

Harry sniggered. "You would be a posh bastard. Let me guess, you're demanding and expect the other one to do all the work? Won't accept anything less than their very best? And probably require 100 percent of their attention?"

Louis had a feeling they weren't talking about tutoring anymore. "I'll have you know, I am not a posh bastard. Nor do I expect others to do all the work. Everything is a fifty-fifty effort for both parties involved, regardless of their perceived role. And I am not an attention whore, thank you very much."

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