The one where Harry and Louis arm-wrestle as an excuse to hold each other's hand
~_~_~
Callouses. Sweat. His grip adjusts in mine. My stomach pulls as his pinky brushes the top of my hand. I can't even bring myself to look at him. I can hear the other players yelling my name, but it sounds far away. My heart thumps in my chest.
Boom,
boom,
boom.
I fear that someone will hear how hard my heart is pounding in my chest.
"Come on, dude!"
"Harry, Harry, Harry!"
"Don't be a faggot, pin him already!"
My stomach clenches. I can feel his hand tighten in mine. He hates the word more than I do.
"Pops called me a faggot again today. Wish I could tell him to kiss my faggot ass."
"I like you in one piece. Try to keep it that way, yeah? Only a couple of months until we graduate and then we're off to college."
"Counting down the days."
I want to move my hand and slot our fingers together. It's an impulse. My fingers want to naturally slot between his and it takes everything inside of me to keep them apart. He doesn't struggle the same way. I know he doesn't.
He's never struggled that way.
"Never have I ever... kissed a boy?"
"Come on Louis, put your finger down. I saw you and Zayn Malik behind the tree the other day."
"Zayn is too wussy to be a boy. Besides, he gave me his lunch money for a week. Pretty sweet deal."
I can feel him starting to put some pressure against my arm. He wants it to look more convincing. Maybe the other boys are starting to lose interest. The longer the game goes, the longer I get to hold him.
"Harry, just pin him!"
"Stop being a bunch of girls!"
"Who even put these two together?"
I push back against him. The sudden movement causes a stir in our audience. They call both of our names.
"Harry!"
"Louis has him!"
"Harry is taking the lead, no way."
"You ever kiss a boy before?"
"Not really."
"You sure you want to do this?"
I'm sure. I'm always sure. Unless I'm not. I'm sure about this, I know that. I'm sure about holding him in front of everyone.
"What's Zayn have that I don't?"
"I don't want to force you into anything, Harry."
"Do you want my lunch money or not?"
We were kids then, but we aren't anymore. Kissing each other back then was weird and gross, but can be written off. We're older now. Now, kissing each other can lead to broken bones and bruised eyes.
"You don't have to pay to kiss me anymore, Harry."
"You have to eat somehow."
"Why don't you pay for my meal instead of my kisses?"
My hand is sweating so bad I fear I'll slip right out of his hand. That would be the worst-case scenario.
"Louis, what happened to your eye?"
"The old man thought it might teach me a lesson for being a faggot."
"Jesus."
I let Louis push my hand closer towards the table. A second later, he allows me to pull his arm back up. A give and take. A dance.
"My mom said that you're a bad influence on me."
"If you're not careful you might catch my disease."
"Too late."
We can't keep this up much longer. We're enjoying it too much and the boys are starting to tell. It has to end soon.
"Signed up for football."
"Oh yeah?"
"Maybe you should too."
I don't want it to end. I don't want to pull my hand away from my boyfriend's.
"'Harry Styles - defensive lineman', not too bad."
"'Louis Tomlinson - running back', didn't do too bad yourself."
"Better keep your eyes out. I might zip right by."
My mind has drifted too far and I feel the back of my hand being pressed gently into the wooden table.
"Boyfriend?"
"Yeah, we've been talking and kissing for years and I wanna make it official."
"That's... yeah. I want that too."
His hand slowly slips outs of mine. He gives me a small smile as he stands from his chair and accepts the cheers from his teammates.
"Sometimes I just want to hold your hand."
"You can, Harry."
"No, like everyone else does. Maybe one day."
I get a few pats on my back for my effort as Louis is celebrated. I'm not mad. In fact, I can't stop smiling.
"How about this: whenever you wanna hold my hand challenge me to an arm-wrestling competition."
"Why?"
"That way you can hold my hand, duh."
