No One Does It Better

Chapter 19

It's half past eight the following day, and everything is going horribly wrong.

An hour earlier, Harry had been late in picking Louis up from his flat, and he tried not to be offended at the older lad's relief upon seeing him, had to remind himself that Louis is still very much unsure of him despite his air of confidence. They hit heavy traffic, and, when they arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late, the host informed them that their reservation had been registered as a "No Show" and they'd have to wait for a table. Sometime between picking Louis up and arriving at the restaurant, Harry's mum had somehow found out about the date and proceeded to blow up his phone until Louis gave him a sideways glance at the constant buzz from his pocket, and he turned the phone off with a shy smile, not checking a single message. When they finally do get their table, Louis ordered spaghetti bolognaise and promptly managed to spill it over his pressed white button up.

"Bloody fucking hell," Louis whispers under his breath.

Harry only smiles warmly and offers his napkin for Louis to continue patting down his shirt and trousers. Quickly, Louis excuses himself to the restroom and Harry grabs the check, knows the other won't really want to hang around the fancy restaurant in a ruined shirt. When he returns, he protests mildly at Harry having paid for them, but accepts Harry's offer at a ride home with head down.

They drive back to Louis' in relative silence, but in two different headspaces. Harry is calm and content, really only thinking that Louis never liked that particular restaurant's spaghetti anyway. He's had many, much worse dates with the older boy. One time, Louis got piss drunk off box wine and knocked over a gaming tent at a carnival his younger sister Lottie had dragged them to. Harry held her close as Louis barely escaped a beating from one very angry Sicilian man. Another time, Louis had been sick to his stomach for a week when he begged, begged Harry to go see a movie with him, some action flick that had adverts up all around town, and in 3D because "there's no other way to see a movie! You're right there in it all." He knew it was a bad idea, wanted to tell Louis no, to go to bed and bloody listen to him, but then Louis got that sad look and stuck his lower lip out and Harry caved. It turned out just as he thought it would, and Louis ended up puking all over Harry's new shoes not even a half hour into it. So, a little ruined shirt didn't faze him.

Louis, on the other hand, is sat shotgun in Harry's Range Rover with his hot face pressed to the cool window. He feels absolutely humiliated, cannot believe he let himself be so stupid and so clumsy and ruin any chance he had with such a beautiful boy. Normally he would look at Harry, try to break the silence, but he can't bear to see his face formulating rejection. He can't look into cloudy green eyes and know they're going to deny him what he wants. He'll put that off as long as he can.

Louis is so lost in his own worst-case-scenario, projecting like a movie on the dashboard, that he doesn't notice Harry put the car in park until his door is opening. He jumps back a bit in his seat, the blush returning to his cheeks with a vengeance. Harry only smiles at him, holding his door open. Louis unbuckles his seatbelt and sends a very small smile in the taller lad's direction. He stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his dark-washed blue jeans and keeps his head down as they walk to his flat. He wants to tell Harry not to bother, not to prolong the embarrassment, just to get it over with and be on his way, but he can't. He wants him as close as he can for as long as he can have him.

When they reach the door, Louis turns on his heel and doesn't quite meet Harry's eye. Harry studies him carefully, analyzes his body language, and adjusts himself accordingly. He hunches over a little, not anything obscene, just enough so that when he tucks a finger under Louis' chin and makes their eyes meet, the slighter boy isn't looking up at him. "I had a good time tonight," he says softly and Louis scoffs, breaking his stare to look at his shoe as it kicks lightly at the ground.