Playboy » L.S

Chapter 14

Louis' pov.

As I watch Harry's back retreat behind the curtain, I'm well aware that my mouth is hanging wide open and my eyes are probably the size of the moon.

What in the hell just happened?

I can feel everybody staring at me, some people's gazes filled with confusion, others probably containing jealousy or envy.

"Um, well," Zach says from beside me, and I can see him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "That was awkward."

"What even.. Why did he.. What the f.uck?" Damien says from my left, and I'm glad I'm not the only one completely and utterly confused.

"Has that ever happened before?" I ask, my voice small. My eyes are still focused on the now closed curtain.

"Well, yeah, but not with him. Harry has never done anything like that," Cam answers, since he's been here longer than Damien and I have.

I zone out of their continued questioning and comments, everything just kind of blurring together. My focus seems to be completely on Harry and I'm itching to know just why the hell he did that.

Out of my drunken state, I abruptly stand up and begin walking away. I hear Damien ask where I'm going, and I answer with, "To find him."

They know who I mean by 'him' so they don't ask any further questions. I push my way through the crowd until I'm standing at the entrance to the hallway off the side of the stage.

I'm surprised that I even remember where Harry's dressing room is, or that I can even think straight, but somehow I end up at the closed door.

Instead of knocking, or even checking if he's in there, I just throw the door open and stomp inside. I slam the door behind me and scan the room.

"What the hell!?" Harry emerges from the bathroom, his hair dripping water droplets onto his naked torso, a white towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

"Damn, he seems pissed," Zayn comments from where he's seated at Harry's vanity, applying some type of gell to his hair.

If I knew Zayn wasn't gay, I'd probably be even more pissed off as to why he's even in here, but he claimed to be straight, so I'll let it slide.

"Louis, what the fuck are you doing?" Harry repeats, still standing in the middle of the room.

"You," I point to Zayn, who looks at me in the mirror. "Out. Now."

"Woah, wh-" Zayn turns around in his chair to look at me, but before he can continue his protesting, I cut him off.

"I said get the hell out. I don't give a damn what you have to say, because this ''play toy'-" I point to myself, referring to the shit label Zayn had given me when we first met. "-has to talk to that Playboy." I point to Harry.

"Louis-" Harry begins, but I hold my hand up.

"I'm not talking to you until he gets the hell out."

Harry's mouth is wide open, completely shocked by my outburst. Zayn's eyes narrow momentarily until he shrugs and stands up.

"I guess I deserved this," He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm on stage soon anyway."

With that, he brushes past me and exits the room, closing the door behind him.

It's silent for a couple of minutes after he leaves, until Harry decides to speak up, "That was a bit uncalled for, don't you think?"

"No. You know what's uncalled for? When you jump down from the f.ucking stage to give me a lap dance in front of everybody!"