Facade: Love, Lust and Deception

CHAPTER 5

It was a little after 12 when Louis tiptoed to his room with a bottle of water in hand. He peeled off his sweaty clothes and dumped them in a laundry basket. He opened the window, wearing only a thin oversized t-shirt he borrowed from Niall.

He was still pleasantly buzzed from the drinks he had, not too much to forget what had happened today was certainly one for the golden books. Both Niall and Zayn had yapped about the encounter the whole way home.

As much as it had turned him on, the whole thing left him gushing. His eyes landed on a black range rover pulling up in Harry's garage. He didn't move away from the window this time.

But as soon as the doors opened, he wished that he had.

He noticed Harry, his coat had been disregarded in his car probably, shirt untucked and the buttons slightly undone. Then his eyes landed on a man in a floral shirt. They seemed tipsy, not very drunk. Louis' face scrunched in disgust as they made out messily against the closed car door.

He felt.... jealousy. Pure raging jealousy.

And for some reason he didn't look away, his hand was gripping the windowsill so tight, he was sure he heard the rickety old framework creak under the pressure. He felt his skin prickle with utter revolt and disdain.

He only moved his hand when he felt the rusted nail scratching at the delicate skin of his palm. Both men stumbled to the front door, and just before they could close it- Harry saw Louis.

I hate him.

Louis shut his window, not bothering to see what happened. He flopped on his bed, curling up under the covers.

Had he really thought this would lead somewhere? Of course Harry had used him like a circus act and Louis being the dumbfuck he was, had walked right into his bait just to prove how desperate he was.

Fuck you Harry Styles.

He hated himself for being so gullible and so affected. If it were anyone else he'd have gone about his day like any other Saturday. But it hadn't been just any drunk bastard trying to flirt, it was his professor. The one who he has to face almost everyday for five days a week. The one who most definitely was having bed breaking sex with someone right this very instant.

He was truly fucked.

He was also sleepy, sore and exhausted from socialising that much in just a day. He turned off the lights and tugged his quilt over his head, slipping into deep sleep.

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Harry didn't know what to make of this, sweat glimmered over his built body. His arms supported his weight as he rolled his hips lazily, registering the man under him spasming and slipping out of his senses.

His waist doesn't curve like Louis'.

What the fuck.