"You and your friends are dangerous to be around."
Harry smiled, lips tight around his thin black straw and his cheeks hollowed. He swallowed a gulp of vodka soda.
"Dangerous? Me?" he laughed, the noise barely carrying over the loud music of the club. "Why?"
Louis tilted his head back and downed the remainder of his tequila gimlet.
"Woo," he said on a gasp, shaking his head side to side. His eyes went round and wide to blink. He lifted the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucked it into his mouth, biting on the tangy rind. He licked the corner of his mouth. "I think Niall's friend made that mostly tequila, not a whole lot of gimlet."
Harry laughed again and leaned over the bar. He made eye contact with the fair haired bartender named James. James had crashed at his and Niall's flat for a few weeks when he first moved to London from Cork a couple of years ago. He was an excellent mixologist and also a master at leaving no trail of actually living someplace. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing a suitcase in his flat when James lived there.
He held up two fingers and James winked at him, nodding once.
"Every time we come out with you guys I end up really drunk for free," Louis said, tilting his glass again. He sucked an ice cube into his mouth. "I try to give Niall or the bartender cash, but they never take it."
Harry leaned back on the bar and spread his arms to his sides, his left hand almost brushing Louis' arm.
"Yeah, Niall's crowd tends to be very generous and very fun. I'm not sure if that a bartender thing, or a musician thing, or just an Irish thing." Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. He took two fresh drinks from James, offering a grateful smile in return. "Cheers, mate." He handed Louis his drink and pressed his back to the bar. "It's a lethal combination."
"Yes! Lethal!" Louis' lips wrapped around his straw. "His friend Bart was so easy to talk to. He should be a priest or something because he was just like, you know, good at chatting."
Harry smiled and looked towards their group in (and spilling out of) a nearby booth, Zayn and Liam mixed in with some of Harry and Niall's friends. In addition to their new group text message, which ranged from them offering each other fashion advice to merciless teasing on a daily basis, they had all been spending more time lately as a group.
The weekend previous, Louis and Zayn's Simone crowd had met up with their group at Chandelier, during which Louis drank so much free champagne that he fell asleep on Harry for the cab ride home. Harry didn't mind, and almost paid the cab driver to loop the block a few times, but then Louis snorted awake and accidentally squeezed Harry's cock through his jeans and the moment ended.
"Bart's great. I like Suzi, too. Your friend from Simone. She's a riot."
Louis' arm made contact with Harry's finger tips. His eyes were drawn away from their friends and to the contact of their skin. He looked up at Louis' face, smoothing the pads of his fingers up his forearm until he reached the rolled cuff of his sleeve. He stroked over the crook of his elbow, the skin even hotter there.
Louis grinned and dropped his face down. His hair flopped with the motion before regaining its styled bounce. He stared at Harry for a beat.
"Bart said you made his nan sugar-free pastries for her birthday because she's diabetic."
Harry huffed a soft laugh and broke their stare, sipping his drink.
"Bart does like to talk."
Louis looked at Harry's pointy-toed black boots crossed at the ankles. His gaze traveled up his long legs covered in tight black skinnies and worked their way up to his open black shirt with white polka dots.
