How We Met: A Tinder Story (Larry Stylinson)✅

Talking

Louis' POV

Harry and I stand there for a moment in the park, neither of us moving. We had just hugged and said hello, and now Harry is standing their awkwardly, playing with a bracelet on his wrist nervously.

I smile at him, taking in his beautiful green eyes. They're even bigger and brighter than they had been in the photos. He's also super tall — which I suppose I was expecting, but I didn't realize how much he would tower over me. Cuddling might be a little tough.

His long legs look gorgeous in his tight, dark washed jeans and the red color really accentuates it his ivory skin. His hair, long and lustrous, falls onto his back and I sigh a little, hoping he doesn't realize how mesmerized I am.

After all, I'm Louis. Weird, sassy, gym bro Louis. I have a persona to upkeep. I can't melt into a puddle of mush just yet.

"Harry, what are you doing just standing there, let's go," I laugh, motioning for him to cross the street with me. I want to hold his hand but we're definitely not there yet.

Harry nearly stumbles and jogs after me, keeping a small distance between us.

"You're real," he giggles, smiling at me.

"You're real too," I reply.

I feel a pressure to be funny. To really banter back and forth like we always had over text, but I can't think of anything to say.

Harry continues to fidget as he walks, his long legs quickly outpacing my short ones.

"Running a marathon, eh?" I ask, speeding up my pace.

"Sorry. Just really hungry," he replied, giggling. Dimples creased his cheeks and I resisted the urge to reach up and pinch them.

He. is. so. Cute.

"You're gonna love the chocolate pizza, Harry," I said. I fought my desire to call him a pet name or one of the silly nicknames we had given each other. 

Harry is still acting a little bit formal, like we're strangers. I guess technically we are, but we know so much about each other it doesn't feel like it.

"You're gonna love it!" I reply, as we enter the lobby of the restaurant.

Suddenly, there's tons of people milling around, and I push my way to the front to let the hostess know I have a reservation.

"Tomlinson," I say. "3pm."

She smiles and nods, leading Harry and I to a table in the back of the restaurant. To the left of us is a married couple. To the right is a group of college aged girls.

"Wow, this place seems popular," Harry said, taking a seat in the booth. I take the chair across from him, grabbing a menu. 

"Yeah. That's why I made a reservation," I reply. "It's a mad house."

"What are you gonna get?" Harry asks, leafing through the menu. 

"Well, I was thinking we could split the chocolate pizza, and I was gonna get a milkshake," I reply. I've been here a few times before, and I know what's good.

"Oh, okay," he replies, closing the menu. "I'll do the same. What kinda milkshake?"

"This one," I say, pointing to it on my menu. It's the nineties shake, vanilla with melted chocolate mixed in and a chocolate shell on top. Harry reaches for my menu and our fingers brush together, sending tingles down my spine. 

"Cool," Harry replies. He smiles at me, his big eyes focused on my face. 

"You're so quiet," I chuckle. "You're always so talkative over snap chat. In your videos."