Unbelievers

Chapter 2.2

There are many things Louis has thought about these past days. This was not one of them.

After an hour of football practice the following Monday (a half hour of running drills, and a half hour of playing mini-games that Louis rewarded the boys with, but they didn't seem to particularly enjoy since their legs were too tired, including murderous stares from Harry), Louis finds himself in the locker room. All the lads are undressing, getting ready to shower, and Louis can feel Harry's angry gaze from across the room.

So, like, Louis is not awkward because there are a bunch of naked dudes surrounding him. That's a regular weekday afternoon. It's just that, Harry's looking at him, and Liam is leaning against the locker they almost got each other off against. And that's weird. It's really weird. He and Harry have gotten off against each other. That's... just. Louis doesn't know what to think when he thinks about that. It's strange and a bit creepy, and somehow it's all he can think about.

Harry's currently only partly undressed, standing by his bench in shorts, frequently sending small glares Louis' way. The rest of the boys are either in the showers or getting into fresh clothes. Louis has barely gotten his own kit off. He realizes this with a start and quickly rips off his jersey, kicking off his socks.

He cannot end up alone with Harry in the locker room again. That stuff can never happen again. Because it's gross. And that's not a gay thing – it's a Harry thing. Also, Louis does not need this in his life. Harry means trouble, and Louis can't have more trouble in his life than he already has. This, whatever it is that's happened twice now, cannot happen again, which means that Louis can't end up alone with Harry. Ever.

He quickly pulls on his old jersey again, figuring he better not test things and get in the showers, risking being caught alone with Harry afterwards. He stuffs his things in his bag again, ignoring Harry's eyes on him and stalks back to the football pitch. He didn't go for a run last night. He should jog some extra laps.

Louis avoids Harry like the plague for the rest of the week. He doesn't even sneer at him in the hallways the next day or spare him a glance at practice on Wednesday. He doesn't let himself get agitated at his stupid exercises at practice, only clenches his jaw and does whatever Harry orders, and he thinks Harry notices it. He doesn't stick around in the locker room and he doesn't shower with the team. It's kind of gross riding in his car all sweaty he soon realizes, so he usually stays and runs laps around the field until the showers have cleared out. Yes, he knows he's being a bit ridiculous, but he doesn't want to take any chances.

It's Thursday morning, six o'clock, when Louis picks Niall up before school. Niall looks half-asleep when he trudges out of his house, his school bag and a duffel bag thrown over a shoulder each. He's in track bottoms just like Louis, a t-shirt on his chest, and for some apparent reason he's put his fringe into a tiny ponytail that stands proudly upright on his forehead.

"You look like a unicorn," is the first thing Louis says to him. "Is that a tiny prick?"

"Fuck you. I cannot believe I'm doing this. You should be so glad I'm your best friend."

"I love you," Louis grins, poking him in the cheek. Niall only grunts and ties his shoelaces.

When they arrive at school the lot is empty, the brisk morning air fresh against their cheeks. They dump their bags by the bleachers, and Louis makes Niall pull on a thin, long-sleeved shirt over his t-shirt before they kick off on the track encircling the grass pitch. The grass looks a bit dewy, a sign the autumn is slowly nearing, and the fresh air does well for Louis' lungs.

Niall is panting slightly heavier beside him, but he's keeping up well. They chat a bit as they run and Louis stretches his legs out, feeling a slight ache. Harry made them do some really fucking strange exercise the other day that felt more like bending over and spreading your legs than anything else, and it's left some traces in his muscles.

"I don't get how you do this every day," Niall breathes after five laps, sweat glazing his forehead, cheeks flushed.

"I don't do this everyday."

"Maybe not at six am, but you run the blocks and the park all the time."

Louis shrugs the best he can while running and kicks up his speed, leaving a yard of space between them.

"Shit," Niall breathes heavily once he's caught up. "Calm down a bit, won't you? We've run five laps at a decent pace. You're going to ruin your legs, mate."

Louis makes a non-committed grunt, keeping up his pace.

After seven laps Niall throws himself on the grass beside the track and announces his capitulation, chest heaving and face flushed in red where he wrenches a bit too exaggeratedly on the ground. Louis rolls his eyes and runs two more laps, walking one last to calm his nerves and blood flow.

They shower in the locker room that's specifically distributed to the football team. Usually it's off limits for anyone not on the team, but since classes haven't started yet Louis figures it won't matter if Niall spends fifteen minutes in there. They get dressed, Louis using up ten minutes in front of the mirror trying to tame his hair, while Niall imitates a dog getting out of a bath. Louis pushes his sweaty clothes into his duffel, slinging it over his shoulder as they walk back to the parking lot.

It's almost warm when they step outside, and the morning dew is completely gone. The parking lot has started filling up with cars, and Louis waves at few of the lads from the team standing by the small fountain in front of the big entrance. The school may be small, but the board sure seems to invest a lot of money into making it look fancy.

They dump their duffels in the backseat of Louis' car and fetch their school bags, trudging back towards the main building. Louis' first class is French, while Niall has Geography in the second building.

"See you on the other side, mate," Niall says, saluting him and starting to back away.

"Tell Mr. Warner a big fuck you from me!" Louis calls after him, and Niall's laugh seems to echo against the sky.

Louis grins, and turns to face the main entrance. Of course, that's when he sees Harry.

He's leaning against his pretty car, shining like a toy in the morning sun, and he's with that artsy guy. He's in Louis' drama class but doesn't say much. They both look stupid where they stand, all sharp jaws, lean bodies and eyes brimming with disinterest. Harry's in black, skinny jeans as usual, a moss-green plaid shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders, and he's got his Ray Bans on like the pretentious bastard he is. If he's trying to look cool and authentic he isn't succeeding. Louis almost snorts. His friend is doing a way better job of it; dark, almost raven hair that's getting a bit long and is pushed to the side, everlasting pout on his lips, and a smoke between his fingers.

Louis glances down at his phone when it buzzes in his hand, disappointment sinking his chest once again. He bites his cheek and sends another glance towards Harry. A second later Harry's face turns Louis' way, and Louis determinedly twists his chin away, walking straight into the building without another look.