Chapter Five:
For such a vibrant and social person, it was really quite surprising how much Louis enjoyed a bit of peace and quiet. Likewise, he loved his friends to bits, but their company could be a little suffocating at times if one didn’t have a break every now and then. He’d found it very comforting, however, knowing that even at best Hannah wouldn’t resurface before eleven, and both Zayn and Niall struggled to be up by lunch. Stan could be awake from any time between four o’clock in the morning and three o’clock in the afternoon, but usually spent at least half an hour in the bathroom showering, and his absence from outside Louis’ bedroom door when Louis sneaked out would suggest that he was having a lazy day rather than an over-productive one.
There were few people on the beach at six o’clock on a Sunday morning, and Louis was almost completely alone as he stood shuffling his feet and kicking sand around, staring at the ground, lost in thought. He was struggling with a little conundrum which he liked to call ‘the Harry Styles problem’. So far, he hadn’t had much success in trying to solve it.
He was confused. There seemed to be no obvious reason as to Harry’s reluctance; he’d immediately jumped to the conclusion that a previous relationship had ended poorly, but seeing as Harry had shown no aversion to discussing past lovers, he’d had to rule that out. Nor did he seem to have anything against relationships in general. Therefore Louis could only assume that he was cripplingly shy – not that his cheeky comments and overall flirtation tied in particularly well with that theory, but it seemed like the most likely of them all. Either that, or he had some kind of split personality disorder, and Louis highly doubted that.
Or an evil twin who could switch places with him in the blink of an eye, Louis mused idly, staring boredly out at the ocean. Well. Perhaps not evil. Introverted. An introverted twin and an extroverted twin. Hmm.
That was another idea which he discarded as unlikely, and with a heavy sigh, he went back to pacing restlessly up and down, as if following the same bland little trail of his own footprints round and round in a wobbly circle would miraculously answer all of his questions.
The fact was that by now he ought to have had Harry over the hotel bar and made him scream so loud he forgot his own name, and more than once, too. Interestingly, the fact that he couldn’t persuade Harry into even leaving his room was more of an incentive than a deterrent. He wanted to understand the curly haired boy, that was the thing. Already, he’d gotten over the initial lust and was feeling curiosity instead, which, for him, was unusual in itself. Rather than simply forcing Harry into giving in, he wanted to have the satisfaction of knowing that Harry had gone with him because he simply couldn’t bear not to; couldn’t summon the restraint any more. The trouble was that he wasn’t sure he could do it.
He had to find some kind of subtle, sweet way of winning the boy over. Sweet, Louis did excellently – subtle, however, wasn’t really his forte. Anything but, as a matter of fact. Which meant that, the more he thought about it, the more he grimly realized that his previous antics would only have dissuaded Harry: dragging him fully clothed into the hotel pool; lying in his hotel room and practically ordering to come down for breakfast and meet four total strangers; wearing tight clothes and swaggering around the golf course like he owned it…he cursed himself and his complete lack of tact. He could have at leastattempted to be delicate about the matter. But no; as usual, he’d blundered in and expected Harry to fall at his feet, and for once, it hadn’t worked in his favour. Charming the pants off someone didn’t really work when, to them, charisma was about as welcome as bacon would be to a vegetarian.
It was safe to say that he was lost in his own little world when he heard the splash.
He wouldn’t have paid much attention to it if it hadn’t been for the exasperated “Duchess!” that accompanied the noise, and then the slightly worried “Duch, come out of there! It’s deep, you shouldn’t – are you okay, Duch? Duch?” The tone had risen from irritated to anxious to almost panicked, and Louis’ head snapped up and he frowned, sensing trouble.
“Duch!” The voice was twisted in fear now, drifting from over the rocks that towered way over Louis’ head. Curiously, he kicked off his shoes onto the sound, found himself a foothold, then started scrambling up the rock face like a money, gripping so tightly to the little outcrops of stone that his knuckles turned white. Luckily for him, he’d always been good at climbing – he and Stan had clambered up onto the roof of their local primary school once to retrieve a football, and since then he’d been unafraid of any kind of heights. Clawing his way up the rock face, he swung one leg up onto the top and straddled the pillar of stone, looking across the beach for the source of the sound. His eyes found a rock pool; small in circumference but deep, and probably the depth that was visible didn’t do it justice. In fact, he guessed that even he would have struggled to stand up in it, let alone the little thing that was desperately struggling to stay afloat in the middle of it.
He couldn’t see who had been shouting, but the source of the splash was now clear; a little dog, some kind of West Highland Terrier; a little fluffy white thing that looked rather like a bright-eyed ball of cotton wool with little legs poking out oddly and an incredibly yappy bark. Under normal circumstances, Louis would have backed off; he didn’t trust any creature which so closely resembled an electrocuted sheep, but there was something about its piteous whines, frantic splashing and the terror of its owner that had him carefully bringing his other leg onto the top of the rock and neatly sliding down, grazing the back of his legs as he did so.
Landing neatly on both feet, Louis carefully bounced across the sand before getting down on his knees a short distance away from the little dog, where it desperately struggled to stay afloat, little legs kicking almost comically if it hadn’t been for the fact that it was trying to keep its head above the water and apparently struggling to do so. He wasn’t all too certain what to do next; on the whole he was more used to bigger, less feeble looking dogs and was more of a cat person anyway, but in the end he stretched out a hand to it, making a hopefully coaxing sound in the back of his throat and praying that it wouldn’t be one of those snooty dogs that over time had become like its owner and assumed the mannerisms of a rich, fussy old lady. If it turned up its little black nose at him, he might have to dive in after it, and the water looked bloody cold, so understandably he didn’t quite fancy it.
“Duch,” he called encouragingly. “Come here, girl, come on!” Was it a girl? Duchess sounded like a suitably feminine name; that was the female equivalent of a Duke, wasn’t it? It would be quite awkward if it wasn’t, but honestly, he couldn’t tell what gender the animal was. To him, the dog looked like an enormous, squeaking – sorry, barking – pom-pom.
For a moment he thought that it was going to shun him, but struggling wildly, it somehow managed to maneouvre its fluffy little body vaguely in his direction, and almost pleadingly bumped his outstretched hand with its nose. Melting under the duress of Duch’s ridiculously helpless gaze, Louis shuffled further forwards on his knees, reaching out to her with his other hand. He clumsily made a grab for her, missed, and pulled a face as, wriggling, the dog spun away from him, revolving gently as she kicked stupidly around and yelped her indignation at the sheer lack of dignity of being unable to control herself.
Louis reached out helpfully to the animal and found to his surprise that he wanted to help her – he didn’t like seeing the slightly dazed, worried look in her eyes as if she was just beginning to realize how dangerous the icy water was. Splashing around, she blinked pleadingly at him, begging for help with her big brown eyes, the colour of chocolate, the colour of…Harry’s hair.
That was what caught him by surprise more than anything else; what made him stop for a moment and stare at her. That was also what made him start again, reaching out with renewed determination to save her, almost as if the little reminder of the mysterious curly haired boy had strengthened his resolve. Reaching out with new purpose, Louis felt his fingers dip ever so slightly into the water and swore, shaking his hand so that frigid droplets splashed everywhere. Cold! Like ice, almost! Snow, like the animal’s fur. Dazedly flicking the last of the water from his fingertips, he shuddered and pulled back – only another yelp reminded him what he was supposed to be doing, and gritting his teeth, he leaned forwards, taking a very deep breath so that the frozen temperature of the water wouldn’t shock him quite so much again. It had felt like plunging his fingertips into a pile of broken glass, the jagged edges tearing at his skin and ripping him open – except it was just water, and the little dog’s whole body was submerged in that.
Louis shuddered pityingly. Perhaps there was more to her than he’d imagined; perhaps she was stronger, braver, prouder than he’d given her credit for. Perhaps she wasn’t just a spoilt, pampered little pet. After all, apart from the struggles and the whines, she was making very little sound. He was fairly certain that if he’d been in that water, being ripped to shreds by icy coldness, he wouldn’t just have whimpered. He would have screamed.
“Come on, help me out, here!” Louis stretched out a little further. He was seriously in danger of toppling headfirst into the water if he wasn’t careful.
Panting heavily, she wobbled towards him, struggling across the surface of the water towards his outstretched hand. Louis resisted the temptation to roll his eyes at the sight of such a clearly pampered lap-dog that had probably never chased a cat in her life, and focused his energy on touching her instead. His fingers grazed the top of her head and he gave her an encouraging pat before making another gentle sound of persuasion to coax her towards him.
Her sopping wet fur felt odd under his fingertips; slippery, rather than silky, which was how it looked. Carefully leaning out a little further and hanging onto the ledge with one hand to make sure that he wouldn’t fall in, Louis stretched out, muscles shrieking in protest, trying to get a better grip on her. Just as he was about to give up, or possibly dive straight in after her, his fingers hooked around a little tartan collar, scraping past a brass nametag in the shape of a bone that was engraved with ‘Duchess’ in neat italic lettering – and he tugged carefully on the band, worried that he might hurt her. She curiously nosed his hand for a moment or so, gave him a token lick, and then allowed him to get a better grip and start gently pulling her towards him.
She wasn’t as heavy as he’d expected; there was more fur than anything else, billowing around her and making her look bloated and chubby. Pulling her in to the side, Louis reached into the water – cold! Cold! Bloody freezing, icy spikes tearing his arms to pieces; shudders running through his whole body, arms screaming where he’d plunged them in up to the elbows! – and then scooped her out, bringing her soaking, shuddering little body against his chest.
After shivering in his arms for a moment, she looked up at him, sneezed, and then shook herself all over him, water flying everywhere and covering him in bitterly cold water droplets like he’d been caught in the middle of a rainstorm. His skin glittered with diamond teardrops of water.
“Thanks,” Louis said. “Nice way of repaying me, that.”
“Duch! Duchess!”
A lithe, lean figure was scrambling over the rocks on the other side of the pool from which Louis had come, breathlessness suggesting that they’d been attempting to accomplish that feat for several minutes. Hair tangled, cheeks pink with effort, eyes wide as he rushed over, hands reaching out automatically for the dog. But when a pair of bright, leafy green eyes met his, Louis found himself blinking and almost dropped the dog in shock.
“Oh. You saved Duch,” Harry said oddly. “Thank you.”
Clumsily transferring the squirming animal into Harry’s waiting arms, Louis said sheepishly “I don’t make a habit of this, you know.”
Frowning curiously, Harry asked, “What?”
Louis waved at his bedraggled, water-flecked clothes. “For some reason I always seem to be wet whenever you’re around.” It was a poor choice of words, and they both blushed violently, Harry especially. Embarrassed, Louis allowed his gaze to flicker downwards.
A small, cheeky grin flickered across Harry’s face, mouth quirking upwards in one corner, and, still staring at the floor, he said teasingly, “It seems like an enormous coincidence to me.” Daring to sneak a glance at Louis, he managed another little smirk, and Louis was amazed to find that the boy was playingwith him – it was almost banter that he was giving out. Apparently, some of the confidence that vanished and reappeared in an instant was showing its face.
With a good-natured sound, Louis shrugged and let it pass. “I suppose you owe me, now, for saving your dog.” He reached out and scratched Duch’s ears fondly.
“One could argue that the debt was repaid when you saved Duch – I gave you a bed for the night, and you rescued my dog. I think we’re even now, are we not?” Harry’s crooked grin was almost playful, but his eyes had tightened slightly with anxiety.
“I think saving a dog is worth rather a lot more than a bed for the night, don’t you? I won’t ask for much, don’t worry. Just…” Pause. After a moment of indecision, Louis bravely took the plunge. “I wish you’d come down to the bar with me later. No strings attached,” he hastily verified, “in fact, if you like we’ll go ten minutes before it closes so no one else is there, and you can drink tap water and scowl disapprovingly at whatever I drink because I’m screwing up my liver. I won’t ask you to meet my friends and I won’t make silly jokes; in fact we could just sit there in awkward silence until we’ve finished our drinks and then part ways and I won’t bother you again. I just want you to try it. Just to be different.”
Despite his attempt to look stern, Harry pointed out with faint amusement, “You know, I’m almost ninety-nine percent certain I asked you not to ask me that again.”
“Nope, I’m pretty sure that was as regard to breakfast cocktails and hanging out with my best idiots – and please take notes; I didn’t ask you to do any of those things. In fact, I requested that you come and sit in the bar with me this evening, in complete solitude, with neither hide nor hair of any of my friends in sight.”
Mouth twisting wryly, Harry said, “Mmm…tempting. I might consider it if you take a legally binding vow of complete silence first…” He was struggling not to laugh.
“I don’t know about that…pinkie promise, possibly? Not sure I could run to any form of formal contract, but a pinkie promise, I can do.” He teasingly held out his little finger.
Harry looked at it for a while, mouth forming a twitch of amusement as he raised his eyebrows at Louis’ extended little finger. For a while, he stayed silent, expression playful, toying with Louis as he contemplated his decision. Head tilted onto one side, he gave Louis a flirtatious smile and let him sweat (figuratively) for a while, clearly nervous, palms sweating. It wasn’t a role reversal Louis much liked; he preferred to be the confident one rather than the one who was afraid. Now he was stood twitching with nervousness, awaiting a response from the younger boy who, for once, was actually in control of the situation, and looked like he was enjoying it rather a lot. Louis wasn’t sure whether it was a turn-on or just plain irritating.
Just like that, with a light flash of his eyes, Harry made his decision.
“No.”
He said it playfully, the way he’d said everything else – like it was another little bit of the banter they’d been sharing for the past couple of minutes, and there was an amused smile on his face as the word slipped out; he was looking forward to Louis’ reaction. That reaction was a combination of stunned, hurt and amused, because of course it was all part of the game, this refusal, but he almost wished that Harry would stop playing, just for a moment. Because “no” wasn’t really what he wanted to hear.
“No?” he echoed faintly.
“No,” Harry agreed. His eyes sparkled with delight in the reaction he had invoked.
“Can I ask why?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
Louis contemplated that for a while. “Just right now, or ever?”
“Right now, I’m not interested. As for in the future…well, we’ll have to see about that.”
Harry was most definitely playing with him now. He was the devil; a demon with curly hair and a bewitching smile, and Louis was both aggravated and excited by the challenge he presented. He had a feeling that the boy knew it, too. They were pulling each other in, watching each other dance, and every time they started to move too closely together, Harry would leap away. It was unbelievably frustrating and absolutely fascinating.
“So if I asked you again, say, tomorrow…?”
“I’d still say no.” Turning around, Duchess still clamped firmly in his arms, Harry threw a playful glance over his shoulder and teased, “don’t be predictable. I like surprises.”
“I’d have thought you were completely against them. Too many people and not enough privacy.”
“Depends who’s surprising me.” After a moment’s thought, Harry said, “I might take you up on your offer, but I want you to know that if there’s one thing I hate, it’s crowded places. So if you’re planning to leap out at me from a darkened room with a battalion of enthusiastic friends, then I’d urge you to reconsider.”
“I wasn’t planning anything of the sort,” promised Louis.
“Good.” Harry kept on walking, arms still folded, holding his dog securely against him so that she couldn’t wriggle free, and this time he didn’t so much as glance back over his shoulder as he called, “I’ll see you around, then.”
Confused by his sudden attitude change – since when had he gone from being that shy, reclusive boy by the pool to being one of the biggest teases Louis had ever met? – Louis stared after him, mouth unattractively hanging open as he stared stupidly at the rapidly retreating figure who was slowly heading down the beach. After climbing up the rock face with her (Louis followed, scrambling after him so he could watch him leave), he placed Duchess on the sand, gave her an encouraging pat and a whistle, and after glancing back at Louis, she began trotting after her master, tail wagging.
Either Harry had summoned up enough trust in him already to start opening up and his true personality was showing through the facade of shyness he kept up for everyone else, or he really was cripplingly shy and felt he was close enough to Louis to get over it. Whatever it was, he was confusing Louis endlessly, and it was bloody exhausting. He was supposed to messing with Harry’s head, not the other way round!
Louis rubbed his eyes tiredly, sat down and shook his head incredulously. This was supposed to be a holiday! He was going straight back to his hotel room and he was going back to sleep – and hopefully he’d be able to think of an appropriate surprise in the meantime.