No Strings Attached

Chapter Fourteen

“No. Just no. I can’t do this, I can’t – I have to stay behind.” 

Louis tossed the jumper he was holding back into the drawer he pulled it from, sighing dramatically and collapsing in a heap on his bed. He rubbed his eyes vigorously with his fists, almost like it could have cleared his mind of its hesitation and second-guessing. 

“Zayn,” Louis moaned. “Why? Why am I doing this?” 

But Zayn only laughed from where he was sitting on the floor, absentmindedly stirring a spoon in his cup of tea. “You’re acting like this is some giant burden for you. It’s a weekend with Harry, not a root canal.” 

Louis grimaced from where he was lying down. “I’d almost prefer one of those.” 

“I don’t know that you would,” Zayn pointed out thoughtfully. “Anyway, shouldn’t you finish packing? They’ll be here any moment now, and Harry soon after that.”

Louis bolted upright and glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. Shit, Zayn was right. His friend had arrived almost an hour ago and he had done nothing but watch Louis do everything but pack. In his stubbornness and petulance, he had completely postponed his packing duties. If he were to bring his suitcase as it was right now, he would only have a pair of underwear and a condom that Zayn had the indecency to throw in as a joke.

“I haven’t had a weekend to myself since Rosie was born,” Louis said truthfully, practically tearing off his closet door and grabbing clothes immediately within reach. He grabbed several striped shirts and a solid colored one – for good measure – and tossed it into his open suitcase sitting beside Zayn. “So I’m sure you can understand my hesitation to leave. And, I’m sorry, but why are you here again?”

Zayn feigned a frown. “I can’t come over anymore?” 

“No – of course you – I mean, shut up,” Louis stuttered, assessing a pair of swimming shorts and debating whether or not to pack it. “I told you that you didn’t have to watch Rosie this weekend, so you’re off the hook.” 

“Yeah, but I’m here for you. Emotional support and shit like that,” Zayn said brightly. 

“Right. Well, take your emotional support and shit like that next door and see if Rosie’s awake, won’t you?” 

Zayn clambered to his feet and set his tea on the nightstand. He reached over and clasped Louis by the shoulder. 

“Mate, no need to get worked up,” his friend said soothingly, massaging the spot where he held Louis. “Harry just wants to get you out of the house. And quite frankly, you could use it.” 

“I don’t even know where I’m going.” And it was true; Harry hadn’t shared their destination with him, and had even purposefully avoided the question when Louis directly asked. 

But Zayn let go of Louis’ shoulder and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” 

Then he offered a playful wink before walking out of the room. 

Louis shook his head as he bent over and rearranged the clothes in his suitcase, not at all pleased that Zayn seemed to be conspiring with Harry. Of course it was a big deal; the whole thing a big deal on various levels, the most obvious one being that he never went away on weekends without Rosie. The fact that he had agreed so easily with Harry must have meant something, at least to some subconscious degree. He found that saying no to Harry was becoming increasingly difficult, and after everything that had happened between them in the past few weeks, he found that it was practically impossible.

And more importantly, why was the other boy so keen to have a weekend together in the first place? Zayn was right: they weren’t friends. But they weren’t exactly more than that, and while that didn’t necessarily bother Louis, the gray space certainly did. There were no rules here, no protocol for what one bloke was supposed to do with another bloke – a bloke who was his fuck buddy.