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

Chapter Twenty Three

Louis

Something in the air had shifted at NYCB, and Louis had a feeling it had to do with the new British arrival. Not Harry, but his taller, snarkier counterpart.

By now, it's blatantly obvious that Louis doesn't take well to outsiders. Call him possessive, but ballet doesn't change often. And he doesn't welcome it when it does. It's early December by now, and Nutcracker performances are halfway done. They continue into early January, but the company had to start working on their next performance afterwards, relying on the months (or years, for some) of Nut rehearsals to get them through.

Next up on the program would be Romeo and Juliet. Casting was more up in the air than ever, with Gigi partially out, Harry in town, and Nick showing up out of the blue. Louis wishes that was why he felt threatened, and not other reasons having to do with the way Harry got skittish around Nick.

Luckily, Louis ran into the green-eyed boy in the basement hallway (Ran into might be an understatement, as Louis had been waiting for half an hour).

"H!" Louis called, watching Harry emerge from the pilates studio at eight. Harry jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to Louis with a hand over his heaving chest.

"Hey, Louis..." Harry said, clearly confused by Louis' early arrival in the basement. "What are you doing down here?"

"Oh, just hanging around." Louis shrugged. "Like I do."

"Sure you do."

"But while I have you here, I was hoping we could talk about something." Louis walked slowly towards Harry, hands clasped behind him. "About last night."

Harry froze. He looked like a deer in the headlights, about to run. Louis needed him not to run, so he was considering caging him in with his strong, albeit shorter, body.

"Are you feeling any better?" Harry questioned, and Louis had almost forgotten he had faked sick last night.

"Loads."

"Oh, that's good." Harry said, starting to turn away.

"Who's Grimshaw?" Louis blurted, immediately looking around to make sure none of the dancers heard him. Harry looked down at his hands, which he was fiddling with.

"A co-worker of mine, you know that." Harry murmured.

"Who is he, really?" Louis asked, putting a hand on Harry's forearm in reassurance. If it felt nice, only Louis had to know. "I've never met anyone else from the Royal, but I don't think they make you break out into a cold sweat."

"Louis, it's a long story." Harry sighed. "I don't have time, or the energy to tell."

"Start it, then."

"Why are you pushing this?" Harry spat out, Louis jumping back in surprise. "Can we just go to class already?"

"Well screw me for being worried about you," Louis rolled his eyes. Harry looked back at him, eyes colder than Louis was used to.

Whoever he was talking to, it wasn't Harry.

Harry turned to go, and Louis let him. Maybe he had overestimated their friendship, considering they had only slept together twice. It wasn't like they were besties or anything.

Louis groaned, hitting his head against the brick walls of the basement. Of course, that's when Zayn came out of his Costume Cave as Louis called it.

"Do I want to know?" The raven-haired boy asked.

"No."

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Class was odd, to say the least.