Larry Stylinson ~ Poor Little Rich Boy AU

13.

Chapter Thirteen:

“Okay, so I know that yesterday’s plan fell a little flat, but today is definitely going to be a good one. I’ve checked the weather forecast; no rain. I checked twice. It’s going to be a beautiful day; you’ll love this, I promise. It’s going to be brilliant!”

How could Harry ever believe otherwise, with an expression as wonderful as that on Louis’ face? When he looked like he had never smiled so much, when his eyes danced with excitement, when his grip on Harry’s wrist was so hard that it almost hurt? Louis could have been preparing to tie him up and eat him alive, and as long as he smiled just like that while he did it, Harry would still think it was an absolutely brilliant idea.

He was a little less confident about this when Louis dragged him to a stop by the lake beside the hotel, and proudly presented him with a little red rowing boat that was moored by the edge, clear water lapping at its sides, and the sun shining on the water so that it was dazzling, like someone had dunked a disco ball just underneath the surface and shone a torch on it; the water glistened. Harry apprehensively eyed the boat. He was a confident swimmer, and so was Louis, (and he’d long since learnt to leave all of his electrical devices back in the hotel, since Louis seemed to have a penchant for throwing him into pools and other watery places) but he wasn’t sure whether Louis would be competent at steering a boat, and he himself had no experience whatsoever with that sort of thing.

“Oh,” he said inadequately. “It’s a boat.”

Louis patted him on the back. “Indeed it is,” he agreed. “It is a boat. What do you think?”

“Um.” Harry swallowed. “It’s a very nice boat,” he offered hesitantly. “Very…red.”

“Yep. It’s a red boat.” Louis looked inordinately pleased with himself. “I hired us a boat! I thought we could sail it. I thought it might be cute, you know? Sailing a little red boat. On a little lake. On a nice day.”

“I’m not so sure that you don’t have some kind of ulterior motive for this, you know.”

He pretended to be offended. “Why, how on earth would you come to that conclusion?”

“You have previous,” Harry said dryly. “Come on, out with it. What’s your plan? This is all far too cutesy and innocent for you.”

“Innocent is my middle name! I’m all in favour of innocent activities these days. Picnics. Little boat rides. I have plenty of other, similarly innocent activities stuffed up my sleeve for the next couple of days, Harold, don’t you worry. Although I will confess that I do have some form of an ulterior motive for this particular activity…”

“I knew it! Come on, then; spill. Otherwise I won’t move an inch.” He dropped to the ground, crossed his legs and sat on the floor like a gangly little child, grinning cheekily up at Louis. He flicked an unruly stray curl out of his eyes. “What’s your motive? Come on – tell me!”

Louis sighed and sat opposite him in exactly the same position, propping his chin up on one hand and examining Harry, his eyes flickering over every inch of the other boy’s face as if he was trying to read him. “My motive…is this hat.” And he dramatically swept a sea captain’s hat out from behind his back, placing it carefully on top of Harry’s wildly curly hair.

An enormous smile spread across his face; he wasn’t sure who was grinning more, Harry or him. Harry tilted his head slightly to the left and the hat slid at a corresponding angle on his head, knocking a couple of loose brown curls over his face so that one bright green eye was obscured a little. His smile was dazzling, as brilliant as a lightbulb. Louis couldn’t resist reaching out to take his large, pale hand, and he squeezed it, biting down on his lower lip as he appraised the sight. Balanced precariously on top of Harry’s curls, the hat looked gorgeous on him.