New Guy on the Street (Larry)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Break-Ups and Make-Ups

“Lou,” I beg.

“It would be more professional for you to address me by ‘Mr. Tomlinson’ from now on.”

“Louis.”

“Go home, Harry.” Tears swim into my eyes as I look over his face. He was serious. There was nothing between us anymore. Now I knew how he felt when I did this to him.

It felt awful.

I turned around and opened the door, walking out of his house and off of his property as fast as I could. I still refused to let him see me this upset.

When I made it home, I wasn’t expecting to see my mother waiting there at the door. I had figured that she had to make up shifts today because she had been staying home more often (which is the only reason that I went to Louis’ house), yet there she stood by the door. With the soup and the crackers in her hands and a stern look on her face.

Yeah, I probably should have gotten rid of those a loooong time ago.

“Harry, what is this?” she asks, gesturing to the food (the spoiled food, that is) in her hands. “Why did I find these in your room? I thought you took them to Louis’ house.” I could tell she was confused and angry at me. This was yet another one of those moments where I needed to decide if I should lie to her and make up some crazy story or tell her the truth.

I figured I had been lying way too much these past few months, so another lie it was.

“In all honestly, Mom, Mr. Tomlinson doesn’t want to see me at the moment,” I say in a strong voice laced with annoyance at the subject. My mother’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“I don’t understand, Harry. Why wouldn’t he want to see you?” She questions, still holding the soup.

“Two words: your boyfriend.”

“George?”

“Yep.”

“What about him,” she asks.

“Oh, nothing. That is, of course, if you consider nothing to be him trying to get Louis fired by making it look like the two of us had been in an inappropriate relationship.” My mother gasps. “Yeah, apparently Mr. Wright doesn’t like Mr. Tomlinson all that much and would do anything to see him get fired, so he’s trying to make it seem like my babysitter and I were doing bad, illegal things with each other.” My mother’s face turns beet red.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“This can’t possibl-”

“Oh, but it is,” I say, interrupting her. “And now one of my best friends doesn’t want to be around me in fear of getting in trouble with the law.”