Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose

Chapter 2

Harry had mastered Louis' running schedule, his class schedule, and his Starbucks schedule, but Louis sometimes seemed to disappear for hours at a time. He pressed Louis for information about his schedule during tutoring, but Louis brushed him off and made him study in silence as punishment for distractions. The cheerleaders said they thought Louis had class, but Harry could never find him in any of the regular classrooms.

It wasn't until he stopped into Starbucks to ask Zayn, who accidentally said, "He's at ba—" before he shut his mouth, turned away from Harry, and refused to say another word.

After a few attempts to find out what Zayn meant to say—including baseball, banjo lessons, and bartending school—Harry found himself walking into the musty building that housed the school's dance department. He smiled at a security guard sitting at the front desk.

"Excuse me, sir, but do you know where the ballet class is?"

The elderly man finished reading a page of his fishing magazine before he blinked up at Harry. There was a pause.

"Aren't you Harry Styles?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

A beat passed.

"Are you lost, son?"

"No, sir," Harry chuckled, low and quiet. He shook his head and took off his Packers hat. He smoothed his hair back. "I was...I was in the area and wanted to say hello to a...To a fellow student. Who is a dancer."

The guard tilted his head left.

"Follow the music. Only one advanced class going on right now, though it'll be over in a few minutes. Just don't get caught peeking. Madame Beverly is a strict one."

"Thank you, sir."

Harry grinned at the guard and walked down the hallway. got louder the more he walked. Most of the studios were dark, but some had small groups of students working through choreography. While the football team's locker room in the stadium was state of the art, modern and new, the dance studios were a bit more used. A bit more vintage.

He reached the end of the hallway and was met with an open door. The music sped up, the sound of feet hitting the floor matching up with the faster tempo. There was a rhythmic clapping sound keeping the beat, a woman's stern voice shouting commands every few seconds. Harry stood beside the open door and held onto the doorway, sneaking his head inside.

He saw Louis immediately. It helped that Louis was soaring through the air at that very moment.

Louis' legs were stretched forward and back in a split, his upper body arched with his arms over his head. Black tights appeared to be painted onto his legs, sweat dripping down his throat to dampen his white, skin tight t-shirt. The reddish brown hair on the center of his chest and under his arms showed through the thin material.

"Yes, Louis." The woman at the front of the mirrored studio clapped once. "Lovely."

Louis landed and stepped off to the side, his chest heaving and sweat pouring down from his hair, which was held back by a thin black headband. He lifted the bottom of his tee and wiped it over his face. His stomach was as wiry and muscled as the rest of him, his upper abs especially defined. He had a line of matching reddish-brown hair sinking below his tights, his ribs puffing out every few breaths.

"Excuse me? Yoo hoo? Curly? Who are you and what business do you have in this class?"

Harry looked down at the tiny, furious woman with a loose high bun glaring at him from inches away. He opened his mouth, his eyes searching for Louis. Louis stood with the other curious dancers, his hand over his lips and his brows arched.