After (Larry Version)

~*Chapter 4*~

AN-only picture I could find of their dorm.
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"Um... Where is Nick ?" I try to sound authoritative, but my voice comes out as more of a squeak. My hands are clenched around the soft fabric of my towel and my eyes keep darting down to make sure it's actually covering my naked body.
The boy looks at me, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, but doesn't say a word.
"Did you hear me? I asked you where Nick is," I repeat, trying to be slightly more polite this time.
The expression on his face magnifies and he finally mumbles, "I don't know," and turns on the small flat screen on Nick's dresser. What is he even doing in here? Doesn't he have his own room? I bite my tongue, trying to keep my rude comments to myself.
"Okay? Well, could you like... leave or something so I can get dressed?" He hasn't even noticed I'm in a towel. Or maybe he has but it doesn't impress him."

"Don't flatter yourself, it's not like I'm going to look at you," he scoffs and rolls over, his hands covering his face. He has a thick English accent that I didn't notice at first. I wonder where he's from in the UK. Probably because he was too rude to actually speak to me yesterday.
Unsure how I should respond to his rude remark, I huff and walk to my dresser. "But if it will make you happy I'll turn toward the wall," he says turning over." I hurry change into a plain white shirt and khaki shorts.
"Are you done yet?" he asks, snapping the last bit of patience I held.
"Could you be any more disrespectful? I did nothing to you. What is your problem?!" I shout, much louder than I had wanted to, but by the surprised look on his face, my words had the intended effect.
He silently stares at me for a moment. And while I await for his apology... he bursts into laughter. His laugh is deep and would be an almost lovely sound if he didn't come off so unpleasant. Dimples indent both of his cheeks as he continues on, and I feel like a complete "idiot, unsure what to do or say. I don't usually like conflict and this boy seems like the last person I should start a fight with.
The door opens and Nick bursts in.
"Sorry I'm late. I have a hell of a hangover," he says dramatically, and his eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. "Sorry, Lou , I forgot to tell you Harry would be coming by." He shrugs apologetically.
I would like to think me and Nick could make our living arrangement work, maybe even build some sort of a friendship, but with his choice of friends and late nights, I'm just not sure anymore.
"Your boyfriend is rude." The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Nick looks over at the boy. And then they both burst into laughter. What is it with people laughing at me? It's getting really annoying.
"Harry Styles is not my boyfriend!" He spits out, nearly choking. Calming down, he turns and scowls at this Harry . "What did you say to him?" Then, looking back at me: "Harry has a... a unique way of conversing."
Lovely, so basically what he is saying is that Harry is simply, at his core, a rude person. The English boy shrugs and changes the channel with the remote in his hand.
"There is a party tonight; you should come with us, Louis," he says.
So now it's my turn to laugh.
"Parties aren't really my thing. Plus I have to go to get some things for my desk and walls." I look at Harry , who, of course, is acting as if neither of us is in the room with him.
"C'mon... it's just one party! You're in college now, just one party won't hurt," he begs. "Wait, how are you getting to the store? I thought you didn't have a car?"
"I was going to take the bus. And besides, I can't go to a party—I don't even know anyone," I say, and Harry laughs again—a subtle acknowledgment that he'll pay just enough attention to mock me. "I was going to read and FaceTime with Elijah."
"You don't want to take the bus on a Saturday! They're way too packed. Harry can drop you on the way to his place... right, Harry ? And you'll know me at the party. Just come... please?" He presses his hands together "in a dramatic plea.
I've only known him for a day; should I trust him? My mother's warning about parties goes through my head. Nick seems quite sweet, from the small interaction that I've had with him. But a party?
"I don't know... and, no, I don't want Harry to drive me to the store," I say. "Harry rolls over across Nick's bed with an amused expression. "Oh no! I was really looking forward to hanging out with you," he dryly replies, his voice so full of sarcasm that I want to throw a book at his curly head. "Come on, Nick , you know this guy isn't going to show at the party," he says, laughing; his accent is so thick. The curious side of me, which I admit is quite large, is desperate to ask him where he is from. The competitive side of me wants to prove that smug face of his wrong.
"Actually, yeah, I'll come," I say with as sweet a smile as I can manage. "It sounds like it might be fun."
Harry shakes his head in disbelief and Nick squeals before wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.
"Yay! We'll have so much fun!" He yells. And a big part of me is practically praying that he's be right."

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