Shake Me Down L.S

Chapter 28

Making out with Louis is a good distraction from Harry's anger, but (no matter how emphatically Louis insists to the contrary) they can't keep making out forever. By the time they're both sitting back in their seats, the vents have finally started to exhale hot air. Louis dials down the heat and says, "So you're angry."

Harry huffs out a humorless laugh and rakes a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he says, and proceeds to explain his profound irritation with Father Robert's patronizing second paragraph while Louis sheds his coat and tosses it into the belly of Myrtle's back seat.

"It was a dick move," Louis agrees.

Harry waits for Louis to launch into a diatribe against Father Robert, camp, or Christianity in general, but none comes. For once, Louis seems less riled up than Harry. "You're surprisingly calm about all this," Harry says suspiciously.

"I'm still high with post-kiss bliss," Louis says, a hint of a smile on his face. "I have a certain rage refractory period after heated make out sessions."

"I'm serious," Harry says.

Louis sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and chews on it for a few moments before responding. "I'm always gonna be angry on your behalf when stuff like this happens," he says. "But I think what's important right now is that they're gonna leave you alone about this testimonial bullshit."

Harry frowns. "That's very level-headed, coming from the person who just interrupted my rant to make out with me," he says.

Louis reaches over the console and threads their fingers together. "Do you know why I was overcome with the urge to make out with you, when you started cussing out that first-class asshole?" he says.

"Because me cursing is hot, apparently?" Harry says, half sarcastically. He feels ridiculous even saying it.

"That," Louis allows, "but mostly the fact that you were pissed off at those fuckers." Louis tilts his head toward Harry's phone. "Dude, think about what would have happened if you'd read an email like that two months ago. Would you have been shouting swear words, or hurting yourself with this?" Louis' fingers slip out of Harry's, and his hand comes to rest over Harry's wrist.

Harry looks up sharply. They haven't spoken of Harry's rubber band since before Thanksgiving break; Louis sometimes lays a hand on Harry like this to stop him from snapping himself, but they don't talk about it.

Once Harry overcomes the feeling of nakedness that accompanies open discussion of his rubber band, though, he must admit that Louis is right. Isn't it something strange, that his first reaction was to get angry with Father Robert and not himself?

"I know you're mad, and I'm sorry about that," Louis says quietly. "At the same time—and don't take this the wrong way—you being mad? From where I'm standing, that's kind of a win."

Harry mulls that over. He feels his anger draining out of him, and Harry can't tell whether or not he wants to get it back. He won't lie; the righteous indignation did feel pretty good while it lasted. Now Harry is left feeling...whatever the emotional equivalent of having a bad aftertaste in his mouth is. But Harry isn't the type to work himself up into a fury or sustain it for any reasonable period of time—he usually needs to feed off the even more fervid anger of someone like Louis, and Louis is offering him nothing, here. "Okay," he says finally. "So, what do I do? Do I even answer?"