Fooled (Larry Stylinson) ✅

5. Tension

  Louis' POV  

"When'd you start smoking?" Harry asked. He held the cigarette between his index and middle finger, rubbing the two together so it rolled around a bit, the smoke swirling.

"I don't know, feels like forever ago, really," I said, wrinkling my nose and trying to remember when the hell I picked up this awful addiction that had the power to both calm me down and feed my self loathing.

"I think final-year of high school. I was 17," I said decidedly. That sounded about right, though my memories from that time period were a bit fuzzier than I'd like them to be.

"Why?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. We were both sitting on the railing, our knees touching slightly because of how close we were. I looked into his green eyes as I took another drag of my cigarette, wondering how someone could be so witty and inquisitive and thoughtful and rebellious all at the same time.

Swiftly, I began to turn my body away from him. Harry's face was inviting, but the question he had asked me wasn't. I tried desperately to hide the panic that was spreading across my face despite the sweet relief of the smoke that was tickling my lungs. But I'm not quite sure it was working.

If you ask anyone who knows me, they would probably tell you I'm absolutely awful at hiding my facial expressions. Truly, even when I think I'm hiding my disgust or excitement, it's clearly visible on my face and everyone around me can tell. Like when I made an old lady cry by shooting her a look of horror in a restaurant upon seeing her vomit. Or when I ruined a birthday surprise by accidentally smiling at the mention of a party. Now was probably going to be a similar situation.

"You okay? Seem tense," Harry said, licking his lips before bringing the cigarette back to his mouth. Of course he noticed, I thought. Great.

I nodded, my neck jerking awkwardly. God, being around Harry made me so nervous... I was forgetting how to function normally.

"I... yeah. It was a rough time. Figuring out my sexuality all. Got picked on. Did some things I wasn't proud of," I said in low voice, slowly condensing years worth of conflict into a simple, bite-sized chain of events. "You know, that kind of stuff."

As soon as I finished my explanation, Harry turned in my direction. He studied my face, his eyes lingering on my mouth for quite some time. Raising an eyebrow, I turned to him with a shaky voice. "Did I overshare?" I asked quietly.

"No, no. And yeah, I do know," Harry replied coolly. His accent was a bit different than mine --it caused him to pronounce the O's in a way that was deeper, breathier. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, twisting at the curls. "So what did you figure out?"

"That I'm gay," I responded quickly, our eyes meeting for a brief moment. I never hesitated when someone asked me about my sexuality -- my answer was always quick, robotic. As if to get that over with, to get it out of the way before someone wasted my time --or I wasted theirs. Or maybe that wasn't the reason I did it all. Maybe I was so quick to answer because I wanted to compensate for so many years of hiding it.

Harry nodded, smiling. "That's great," he said, flashing a wide smile. "I'm rather into men myself."

At that moment, I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating, or my breathing stopped, or some sort of bodily function that was supposed to happen didn't happen. Because was it just me or did he say that sentence with an overly flirty tone, looking directly at me? And did he not just inch closer to me -- so close, that our thighs were touching?

I quickly took another drag of my cigarette, toying with the packet and thinking about lighting another cig. I looked at my hands for a while, keeping my gaze away from Harry, waiting for him to make the first move -- if any.

But he didn't.

"Does that surprise you or something?" he asked me, getting a bit defensive. Oh god. He was perceiving this all wrong. He thought my silence indicated judgment, when it really just indicated me panicking. Wonderful, Louis, I thought to myself. Just peachy.

"No," I said, shaking my head. All I wanted to do in this very moment was jog through the balcony door, exit the bar, take a cab home and go right to bed. But I couldn't leave. Not now, when Harry was still talking to me. "No, it doesn't. Why'd you start smoking?"

Yes! I finally thought of something semi-normal to continue the conversation along. I breathed a sigh of relief, checking my phone for messages quickly before returning my attention to Harry.

"Mmm," he said, closing his eyes as he thought back in time. "I would say I was 18. Just wanted to try it. Liam said I shouldn't since I'm the lead singer. But I'm naughty."

My shoulders tensed as Harry said the word 'naughty.' His tone was deep and husky -- it sort of reminded me of a growling animal. While he said it, he had looked in my direction, biting his lip a little.

At that moment in time, as I took in the situation unfolding around me, I genuinely considered whether or not I was misreading all of these signals. Was it just in my head? From asking me to light his cigarette.... to telling me he likes men.... to looking at me while he said 'naughty.' These had to be signs he was into me, right?

I held my breath and waited for some kind of gesture -- bodily or verbal -- that would confirm my theory. But there was nothing, just Harry looking off at the moonlight, toying with the cigarette.

"Yeah, not good to be smoking as a singer," I said awkwardly, breaking the silence. "Or for anyone really."

Harry shrugged. "I know, which is why we won't tell Liam about this. I only smoke once in a blue moon," he replied with a smirk, pointing up at the half moon shining above us in the sky. "Tonight's your lucky night."

Okay now he was seriously implying on fucking me.... am I right? Am I right? My thoughts raced in my head, as I had never been more simultaneously turned on and confused at the same time.

Fuck.

As I thought things over, I realized what I had to do. I had flirt back, say something sexy. Catch his attention. And I truly wanted to do that-- I really did. The only problem was, I was absolutely awful at talking dirty. I was the dirtiest mouth in the room when I was joking around with friends, but when it came to sexy, tall men like Harry, all of my sexual innuendo seemed to exit my head immediately.

"Oh. Is it now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. That was a start-- right? Harry cocked his jaw out, sending me a playful half smile. "Is it what, Louis?" he replied, in a bit of a mocking tone.

Oh god. He was going to make me say it.

"Is it my lucky... lucky night?" I stammered, nearly shaking as I gripped the edge of the railing tightly.

Harry shrugged, tossing his cigarette onto the ground and putting it out with his heeled boot. Finally, he stood up and looked down at me with bright eyes, standing just a few inches from my face. "I don't know, Mr. Tomlinson. That depends what you're thinking about."