This Feels A Lot Like Love

2. Love To Hold You Close

"Hey, Haz," Niall murmured, his hands sticky from butter.

Niall flexed his palm open for a handshake, waiting. Harry sighed and gave in, shaking Niall's greasy hand. He rubbed his dirty palm on his black trousers. He shouldered off his backpack and grabbed a sweating beer, handing one over to Niall. Niall accepted it gratefully with shining eyes, Harry taking the other one for himself.

They spent their time watching the game in silence, enveloped in enthusiastic cheers from nearby fans whose faces were painted in colors of blues and yellows. All the while, Harry was caught up in the game, his eyes shining and pink from the warm beer, never leaving sight off the blue-eyed boy with the thick thighs and strong legs.

Louis was amazing on the field, dodging opponents and dribbling the ball in between legs and around built bodies. He was a pixie, all lithe limbs and delicate wrists, but he used it to his advantage. He easily jogged across the pitch like he was meant for all the attention, the glory, the win.

Harry found himself to be mesmerized more than ever. His eyes traced the sweat trickling down Louis' back, painting his kit to his wiry skin. The muscles on Louis' legs were glistening with sweat, toned under golden skin. Louis' kit was large enough that on a particular shove or grip, the sweaty material would hang loosely off his shoulder or dip well below his exposed collarbones. Harry wanted to lick the sweat off those delicate chest bones.

Harry was unabashedly staring as well. Niall caught Harry ogling the number twenty-eight player across the field more than once, occasionally snickering behind his hand or shoving his elbow into Harry's ribs. It would send Harry sputtering out his beer, affronted as he stared at Niall whose mere response was to laugh uproariously at him.

Harry wasn't vain. He loved inner beauty and knew that physical beauty was just an added bonus. But Louis was beautiful in every way. In the way he carried himself, so unapologetic bold and loud, in the way he cared about others, gentle and loving, in the way he expressed his emotions, sweet and abrasive with the perfect amount of wit and sass and the occasional shyness with sweet smiles and mirth twinkled eyes. Harry realized this about Louis in the span of a few hours where they were together at Burger Brothers and then again in his bedroom floor. He was utterly charmed.

After the game finished with another grand win for the Regal Bumblebees, Harry and Niall trotted down the steps. Niall asked Harry if he could wait for him by the parking lot so he could chat up with Stanley about organizing a study group during the weekend (Harry was truly impressed) and so Harry waited.

Harry shoved his hands deep into his pockets, kicking little pebbles across the parking lot. Boisterous laughter boomed in the air, Harry whipping his head around to the sound. As expected, it was Niall accompanied with Zayn, Stanley and Louis. Harry felt himself go numb at the core, his fingertips freezing, his actions faltering.

Niall approached Harry with Zayn, an arm slung across his shoulder with Stanley beside them. Louis followed them closely behind, a coy smile playing on his lips.

Harry felt himself become suddenly self-conscious, adjusting the strap on his backpack and fiddling with the curls tickling his cheeks. He steadied the cap atop his head and didn't know whether to fling it forwards or leave it on backwards. He was weighing the options around inside his head (Maybe he should just take it off. His curls might charm Louis off his feet.) when all four boys reached him.

"Harry!" Niall cheered, looking like a cherubic angel, all loose limbed and pink-cheeked. "You remember Zayn and Stanley, right?"

Harry stared at Niall, bored, unblinking. "You mean the same lads that came to my home? Yeah, I do."