I Don't Love You (And I Always Will)

Chapter Seven

Hey! Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Disclaimer: This is a work of FICTION not meant to imply anything about anyone or any organization in the work. Enjoy :)

Louis

In hindsight, this should've been expected. Leaving Louis and Harry alone in a studio together was a bad idea. Like, colossally bad. Someone should've stopped it. Louis should have stopped it.

After the small prank war, Harry and Louis went back to ignoring each other. Louis didn't fancy getting his hair dyed (again), and the paint Louis used on Harry's ballet shoes was expensive. So, for a couple days, everything was back to normal. As normal as it got with those two. Eleanor was still maintaining her friendships with both boys, Gigi and Zayn were acting as weird as always, and Liam was still going to the gym constantly, making everyone feel bad about themselves. Louis was still trying to avoid looking at Harry.

He was just so beautiful, that was the thing. When he wasn't opening his pretentious, role-stealing mouth (that Louis would really like against his mouth), he was like some Greek god. His jawline was sharp enough to cut onions (Louis was bad with metaphors), his emerald eyes greener than grass on a warm spring day. His hair looked like it should smell of cinnamon and fresh baked gingerbread. His strong arms looked as fit for giving hugs as they did for lifting dancers in rehearsal. So, Louis had to keep his gaze away from him. Because Harry wasn't a gentle giant. He was a pretentious dickwad. He really was.

Louis was going through his routine as usual that morning, arriving at the studio twenty minutes early to talk to Gigi, who was bundled in sweaters on the studio floor. Louis didn't understand how she wore so many layers all the damn time. She was always wearing some sort of pants during class unless she had to take them off, and more often than not she wore long sleeve leotards. Louis would probably die if he wore sweatpants in class for more than fifteen minutes. But then again, he was pretty sure Gigi was a cold-blooded snake. She was terrifying when she wanted to be. Anyway.

"Morning, bitch." Louis greeted her, oh so lovingly. She just gave him a grunt in response. He sat down beside her on the cool studio floor. "How's Zayn?" He asked.

"I don't see why you're asking me." Gigi said, her words muffled from under her sweater pile. "You're capable of asking him yourself." Louis actually talked to Zayn yesterday after work. He just liked to see Gigi squirm occasionally.

"I don't see why you're deflecting." Louis responded, rolling onto his stomach and propping his head in his hands. "You see him more than I do."

"I do not." Gigi scoffed. "And when I do see him, I pretty much just watch him sew the muse's costumes. So, you probably know better than I do." Louis couldn't see her face, but she sounded a little disappointed. And yes, Zayn could be a little bit of a quiet guy (more like silent unless he was high), but Louis knew he cared about Gigi. He mentioned her like five times yesterday. For perspective, Zayn forgot to tell Louis about his last girlfriend.

"You ready for opening night next week?" Louis asked, sensing the need for a subject change.

"I mean I guess." Gigi replied, sticking her head out from under her sweater fort. Her French twist was a bit messed up. "I think the better question is are you ready?" She asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him.

"Absolutely," Louis said. "What kind of professional would I be if I wasn't?"

"Since when are you a professional?" Gigi asked, a shit-eating grin on her face. Louis lunged at her, and she quickly ducked back into her sweater pile as he attempted to tickle her. Their laughs filled the empty studio, echoing against the ceiling. Louis had a feeling it would be a good day.