Chasing Empty Spaces

Chapter 3

Suspended from the estate’s wraparound porch, was a swinging bench. Harry carefully sat down on the wooden seat and extended his legs along the surface. The bench gently swayed as the sun pierced the morning sky with warmth. Harry flipped open the cover of the book and made himself comfortable as his eyes began to rake over the printed words.

Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard a faint rumble pouring through the plantation. He snapped his neck towards the end of their drive and the corners of his lips subconsciously pulled upwards when his eyes landed on a truck. Harry could see the outline of Louis in the front seat, but his figure was slightly distorted by the glaring sunlight. Dog-earing the page he was on, Harry slowly stood from the swing and closed the book.

Louis brought the truck to a halt and turned off the engine, throwing the world back into silence. Harry clambered down the steps of the porch with his book gripped in front of his chest, fingers anxiously thrumming over the cover. He stopped a couple feet from the driver’s door and waited as Louis popped out of the truck with a slight huff. The other man wore navy coveralls like the day before, knotted red bandana pushing his hair from his forehead. Harry frowned when he saw the purpling circles underneath Louis’ eyes.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked before he could think better of it, blatant concern painting his tone.

“Yeah,” Louis slowly nodded, a yawn breaking through his answer. He wiped a tired hand over his face and impishly smiled, “Was out late last night.”

“Oh,” Harry looked down at the book still clasped in his grip. He tried for nonchalance, “Where were ya?”

Louis itched his neck with a fingernail and tilted his head to the side, “Got drinks with Zayn down at Old Dog.”
Old Dog was a notoriously well-known blue-collar bar. Harry, never having worked a manual labored job in his life, had never been inside the supposedly dimly lit establishment. The hole-in-the-wall bar opened across the street from Blossoms four years prior, proving to be quite the scandal in the eyes of the uppity folks of town. Harry’s parents were included in that circle of disapproving Blossom patrons.

Since the opening of Old Dog, Harry spent more than a few dinners watching the bar’s exterior from behind Blossom’s bay window. As Anne and Robin boisterously gossiped about the latest news in the social hierarchy, Harry stole glances at the roughed up men puffing cigars across the street. While grime covered their hands and tattered clothes, the men still managed to have juvenile grins plastered on their faces as they spoke. Robin would reprimand Harry for staring at the lower-class whenever he caught the direction of Harry’s gaze.

Harry’s eyebrows pinched together, “Zayn?” His eyes darted towards the gravel drive as he kicked the toe of his shoe into the ground, “Different kinda name, innit?”

Louis slightly lifted his shoulders, “No different than being named Louis.”

“Are you two close?” Harry pressed, feeling oddly protective over his new friend.

Acquaintance, technically.

“Yeah, we work together,” Louis folded his arms over his chest. He quirked an eyebrow, “You actually met ‘im yesterday.”

Harry frowned and thought back to the raven haired mechanic that watched him with a cursory narrow of his eyes. There was a slight tug inside of his gut at the memory of Zayn leaning in to whisper something into Louis’ ear. He nodded when he realized that Louis was watching him with a poorly concealed, amused expression.

“So,” Harry rocked his weight forwards, “Were you celebrating something or whateva?”

A smirk jaunted the corner of Louis’ mouth, “Can’t a man get a drink without an actual excuse, Stud?”