No Strings Attached

Chapter Eleven

“No. Don’t go.” 

“You didn’t say you had a date tonight,” Harry hissed, quietly so Rosie wouldn’t hear. 

“A date tonight, or a date at all?” Louis eyed the other boy carefully, taking notice when his green eyes darkened with harshness. “I’ve been dating, so what? We agreed on this, remember? To meet other people – ” 

“Well, I haven’t,” Harry said bluntly. 

Louis blinked. Why hadn’t he met anyone? That particular question, along with a litany of others, blazed through his mind as he watched the younger boy slump forward, exhausted. 

He cleared his throat but his voice was still unreasonably high when he asked, “No one?” 

“No one,” Harry repeated wearily. “Look, Lou. I don’t really want to talk about this anymore. And you’ve got a date, so I should really leave.” 

“Please don’t,” Louis blurted out, sounding a little more desperate than he would have liked. “I’m really, really glad that you’re back, and I want to talk to you. Really.” 

Harry shook his head, his curls moving in tandem. 

“But your date – ” 

“I’ll make it quick,” he promised quickly. “I’ll come home right away so we can talk.” 

“Lou, you don’t have to – ” 

“I want to. I’ve already ruined your homecoming as it is, so let me make it up to you. Please?” 

They stared at each other, uncertainty and mystification teeming in each other’s eyes. Louis imagined what it would be like to look into those emerald pools again, but it never played like this. Here, right now, they felt oddly close to some sort of precipice. 

Harry sighed raggedly, pinching his nose and turning away from Louis’ gaze. 

“Okay, fine. You might as well call off your sitter because I’ll watch Rosie while you’re gone.” Louis winced; Harry said the last word a little too callously. 

But he felt lighter already – or at least, as light as he could feel in anticipation of the inevitable conversation he would have with the other boy that had shown up on his doorstep.

This night was certainly going to be interesting. 

***

At dinner, Louis couldn’t meet Charlie’s eyes. Instead, he directed his attention to the steak and mashed potatoes on his plate, both untouched while he swirled his fork around on the tablecloth. He found that he wasn’t very hungry, after all. 

“Louis?” 

He poked at the garnish with his fork. “Yeah?” 

“You seem distracted. Is everything alright?” Charlie’s concern was palpable in his voice, and Louis hated him for it. Why did he have to be so caring, so attentive? 

Feeling horrible for ruining what could have been a potentially perfect third date, Louis looked up at Charlie, who was sitting across from him with an expression far too involved for Louis’ liking. 

“I’m not feeling well,” he half-lied. “Might be a stomach bug. It’s been spreading through some of the kids at the school.” 

Charlie’s face fell and Louis’ chest felt oddly constricted. 

“That’s not good,” he said. “Would you want me to take you home instead?” 

Louis’ shoulders slumped. He didn’t want to answer that truthfully, but it was the option that offered the least amount of awkwardness and discomfort for the rest of the night; he didn’t want to subject Charlie to anymore of it.