No Strings Attached

Chapter Eight

“Yeah, well you’re not exactly making conversation right now, are you?” 

“I’m hungry!” the younger boy whined. 

Louis rolled his eyes and pushed the box of cereal toward him, which he grabbed eagerly and instantly poured more into his bowl. 

“You get absurdly hungry after sex, you know that?” 

But Harry only chewed, sputtering out several phrases like “sorry” and “bring my own next time.” 

“Any luck on the record label front?” They hadn’t talked about that in a while. 

Harry shrugged, swallowing hardly. “Management scored us a meeting with a label next week. Might not amount to anything, though. We’ve had several of these meetings before and they never really ended well.” He furrowed his brow then added, “I’ve got to find a job.” 

“Can’t help you there,” Louis said, taking this opportunity to grab the bowl away from Harry and shove a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. Harry only glared. “Restaurant isn’t hiring.” 

“‘S fine,” Harry muttered, stealing the bowl back from Louis. “My mum knows someone who runs a bakery just outside the city. I’ll try that if nothing comes from this meeting.” 

“I’m sure something will,” Louis said encouragingly. “If not now, then soon. You guys are good.” 

Harry raised a brow. “How would you know? You’ve never heard us.”

“Watched you on X Factor, idiot.” 

Harry blinked, like he had forgotten that part of his history ever existed. “Oh, yeah. That’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Louis shrugged. “Not really.” And it wasn’t.

Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He shot a glance at Harry, who nodded as if to tell him it was okay to answer. He pressed the green button that meant ‘answer.’

“Hello? Hi, I’m doing well myself, how about you? That’s good – oh shit, I mean, I’m sorry to hear that.” He grimaced at Harry, and he watched in confusion. “When are you leaving? For how long? I’m so sorry, yeah, of course, no worries. I hope she feels better. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Alright, bye.” 

He hung up and slouched in his chair. 

“Who was that?” 

“The sitter,” Louis explained wearily, rubbing his temple with two fingers. “The one who watches Rosie on weekdays. Her mum’s ill and she’s traveling to Manchester first thing in the morning. She can’t take care of Rosie tomorrow.” 

“What about your second sitter?” 

“Clara? She has uni during the day, so she can’t.” 

“Zayn?” 

“Works with me tomorrow,” he sighed. “Fuck. I’ll have to call out then.” 

Harry thought about it for a moment. Then, almost as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, he replied, “I can watch her.” 

Louis stared. That couldn’t possibly be a real suggestion. Harry never expressed any real interest in meeting Rosie and frankly, Louis never really felt the need to introduce his daughter to his fuck buddy. It was easier to keep Harry out of that sphere of his life. He hadn’t even met Zayn before, and that was something he was adamant about maintaining. Having him meet Rosie would be like a thousand steps forward. 

“What?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I don’t have anything to do tomorrow. I’m good with children, I swear. I can do it.” 

“Harry – ” 

“Look, I’m not going to force you into it if you’re really against the idea,” Harry said casually. “I understand why you wouldn’t want me to meet her, but you’re in a tight spot here and I’m willing to help out. Plus, it would give us a chance to hang out some more after you get home from work, which I’m not entirely opposed to. But only if you want.” 

It wasn’t a terrible idea. And Harry was right; he was definitely in a tight spot. He never had this problem before. However, he certainly trusted Harry by now, and he couldn’t deny the fact that he probably knew him better than he knew his other sitters. And maybe it couldn’t hurt if they actually met. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel as compelled to call a sitter whenever Harry came over, especially now that they were spending as much time lounging around as they were having sex. 

And maybe he was only slightly desperate. 

“Alright,” he conceded. “You sure?” 

Harry laughed deeply. “Of course, I’m sure. We’ll make a day of it: a Harry and Rosie day before it becomes a Harry and Rosie and Louis day. What time should I come over?” 

“Eleven. Is that too early for you?” 

The younger boy rolled his eyes. “I’ll be here at eleven.” 

Harry went back to eating his cereal like it was nothing. And Louis wondered if his internal panic was nothing, after all.