Chapter 22 ~ Sofa

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Hey, loves.

I am so sorry that it's been such a long time since my last update.  I have been in France for the last four weeks, and I didn't have any free internet, so I had to choose to postpone the update until today.  I apologize, and I hope you lovely fans forgive me.  Anyways, here's the next chapter of WHML! Enjoy :)

Love, Claire xxxxx

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Harry was a giddy mess of butterflies and nerves and almost sickeningly sappy thoughts from thereon out, trying far too hard to behave nonchalantly and to keep himself composed but completely failing with each and every ounce of attention he received from Louis.  With so much as a glance, Louis could have the poor boy blushing and stuttering like a berk in the middle of an interview, say, or on stage; with every brush of fingertips (or possibly lips) he’d have Harry melting in his shoes, and Louis could not possibly have been more thrilled.  Who knew that he, of all people, could have the effect on a person like Harry the way that he did?  Who knew that he, Louis Tomlinson, could make a boy as beautiful as that blush and trip over his sentences like untied shoelaces?  The two of them both seemed to be in dazed dreams, and neither wanted to wake up anytime soon.  

The others in the house, to the boys’ surprise, hadn’t been quick to notice the change in their relationship.  Well, to be fair, there really hadn’t been much of a change at all—simply a change in awareness.  The two of them really didn’t behave any differently around one another; they simply reacted to certain things in different ways.  For example, ; or Matt would mention out-of-the-blue how strange it was that no couples had formed in the X House, and Harry and Louis would both turn red as beets, much to the other contestants’ confusion.  

Neither of them had informed anyone else of the recent developments.  It wasn’t that they were trying to hide their affection for one another—because they most certainly weren’t—it was just that they didn’t feel the need to bother anyone with public displays of affection or with silly, sappy sighs of first loves.  They were a modest pair, they were, and while Harry wanted nothing more than to brag about Louis and Louis wanted nothing more than to brag about Harry, they were very polite, very discreet… Or at least, they thought they’d been. 

It was Sunday night, twenty minutes before the boys were scheduled to perform with Robbie, when Zayn cornered Louis.  

“Lou?” he asked, looking a little too nonchalant as he sidled up to the makeup counter with a paper cone of water in his palm and scrutiny on his face.  Louis had been watching Harry for the better part of an hour while he had his hair styled by one of the disconcertingly attractive beauty artists, a frown between his eyebrows as he watched her smile and laugh at him in the mirror.  No.

“Mmm?” Louis asked, jaw clenched as his eyes bored into the back of her head, and he sighed when Zayn snapped his fingers, bringing his attention to him.  Zayn glanced over his shoulder conspiratorially, looking ridiculously like he was starring in a bad spy movie, and Louis stifled a snicker.  “Need something, Mr. Bond?” he asked, and Zayn rolled his eyes.

“Just wanted to chat a little bit before the show,” Zayn said coolly.  Louis frowned; he wasn’t being fooled.  Zayn wanted something—or, rather, wanted to know something—and Louis had a wary feeling that he knew what it was.  “You know.  Let the nerves go, and all that.”

“Interesting,” Louis smiled, humouring his friend.  “We’ve never had these pre-show chats before, Zaynie.  Sure there’s not something on your mind?” He couldn’t help but laugh when Zayn’s face paled and he gulped, shaking his head.

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