Bloodsport

chapter 42

He had only been in Louis’ car on the odd occasion. It was an older model of a Ford, the inside interior not shabby but by no means new. The car didn’t have Bluetooth for music, only an AUX cord Louis refused to use since it would disturb Lottie’s driving “class”. Harry watched Louis direct his sister towards the outskirts of town, voice serious and calm. He was pedagogic and gave simple instructions. Harry wondered why Louis didn’t behave like this during footie practice. Even Harry might’ve accepted him as captain then.

“Foot at the brake when the road curves, Lots. Even if it’s just a bit, you need to slow down.”

“Look far ahead, too. It’s easier to keep the car steady,” added Harry. He’d noticed the car’s slight movement from side to side as they drove, and he’d moved to the middle, looking amusedly at the manner in which Lottie’s manicured fingers clutched painfully at the gearshift.

Louis looked back at him for the first time in a while, and Harry tried not to meet his gaze too quickly. He was spending too much staring at him as it was. He might’ve memorised his face by now, fraction by fraction.

“Don’t run over any bunnies,” said Louis, but his eyes were still locked on Harry, who chuckled, and looked up at him anyway. He felt his cheeks warm as he did. Louis’ eyes sparkled.

He almost slapped himself. He didn’t blush. Almost never. Nothing ever made him flush with embarrassment, and yet there he was, cheeks flushing for no reason at all.

Was this what it took now? Did Louis simply have to say something stupid and glance at Harry for him to turn into disgusting mush? Harry had never felt this way about anyone. No one had ever made him feel as if he were made of warm, liquid glue. If he reached out and grabbed Louis, would he stick to him? Always?

“I don’t think there are many bunnies here, Louis,” said Lottie.

“I was making a joke,” he sneered.

“Wasn’t funny.”

“Harry laughed.”

“But his humour sucks.”

“Hey.”

They ignored him.

“Why are you insulting us?” asked Louis. “Also, eyes on the road. You’re going five too fast, as well.”

Lottie put her foot on the brake, pressing gently. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Louis shook his head, huffing, “You’re unbelievable.”

Harry watched them bicker, and found himself enjoying it. It was rather funny, the way in which they worked like mirrored objects, gestures and the tone of voice similar, cadence on point in every word. Their eyebrows jerked animatedly, and their lips quirked in active expressions of displeasure.

“It’s funny how you both act like the other is horrible, but your personalities are so in line with each other.”

Louis glanced back at him, squinting. “What are you implying?”

“He’s implying we’re like each other,” moaned Lottie, and Louis followed instantly with a groan.

Harry cackled. He wrapped his arms around the car seat in front of him, hands clutching at Louis’ chest as his cheek pressed against Louis’ hair. “Aw, Lou.”

“Get off me, you octopus.” Louis pushed at his hands, but the movement wasn’t strong — it was quite faint, actually. And if Louis hadn’t been smiling so obviously, Harry wouldn’t have pressed his lips to his cheek before he let go. Louis’ gentle touches made him brave.