I Hate You

Chapter 5

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The store was relatively empty, ideal for two world famous popstars to do a bit of grocery shopping. The instrumental versions of famous songs played dully in the background, voices rising from aisle 4. 

"No, we need fettucini, not macaroni or spaghetti," Harry shook the box in front of Louis’ scowling face. The older boy hit his hand away, huffing exasperatedly. 

"It doesn’t matter! Pasta is pasta."

"It does matter when you’re making fettuccine alfredo and don’t have fettuccine noodles because your roommate is a prat."

"Ugh! Harry, you know I hate  fettuccine!"

"Don’t be such a twat, Louis."

"I’m getting spaghetti."

"Well I’m getting fettuccine."

They glared at each other angrily, boxes of pasta in their hands. Louis’ hair stood up on his arm. How could such a stupid argument actually make him feel that tingling sensation over his skin? How was he supposed to live his life when every single thing this boy did infuriated him and made him want to jump his bones? Louis watched Harry’s nostrils flair angrily, green eyes narrowing intensely, curls slipping into his vision. This was not supposed to happen.

"Fine," he said, throwing his box into the basket. "We’ll get both." 

He stuck his hand out to take the box from Harry’s large hand, but he evaded him, holding it out of his reach and stepping close, backing Louis into the shelves. The taller boy leaned over, whispering hot air onto Louis’ ear. 

"You’re whipped."

The basket dropped with a loud crash, Louis’ hands gripping onto the front of Harry’s hoody, pulling their faces together swiftly. His mouth found Harry’s all too familiar one, sucking his lush bottom lip into his mouth and sliding his tongue along the warm, soft flesh of the inside. His hips jerked forward instinctually, brushing his groin against the boy’s in front of him. The pleasurable contact jolted his brain, reminding him that he was indeed sucking face with his male band member in the middle of the TESCO’s pasta aisle.

He squeaked and pulled his face back, slipping under Harry’s arm that was braced against the shelf by his head. He snatched the basket from the floor and scurried quickly toward the front of the store. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his face flushed as he felt Harry’s eyes on him, boring into him, undoubtedly staring at his ass. The air had become thick and tense somewhere between the pasta and the vegetables, Louis’ heart stuttering haphazardly in his chest. 

'Just get to the cash register, get to people, stop thinking of his lips and his hands and his— no. Stop.' He mentally chastised himself, shaking his head. He sucked in a relieved breath as he rounded the corner to the checkout, shuffling to the closest one and beginning to unpack the basket. The blonde girl behind the counter smiled at him sweetly and pulled his items across the scanner. 

"Hello," she greeted. 

"Hi." She didn’t seem to realize the tension in his body, or the trmbling in his hands.

"How are you today?"

"We’re fine, thanks." Harry had appeared beside him, setting his box of pasta in the pile on the conveyor belt, smiling charmingly at the girl behind the counter, his eyes flashing only for a second. She blushed red.  It didn’t go unnoticed that they were famous, but they shopped at this particular store enough that the employees had learned to treat them as normal customers— or as normal as possible when your every move was watched by paparazzi and screaming fans. That didn’t stop her from turning red up to her ears at the sight of the two of them, conversing so casually with her.