That Sounds Fake But Okay

Chapter 4

Harry clicks off his voice recorder and flops backward onto his pillow, stretching his good arm over his head. He's just finished dictating his Rihanna article for an intern to type up later today. His shoulder is getting better, but he's still wearing the sling and is useless on the computer these days.

A smile creeps across his face as he thinks about how fun the interview had been. He's starting to remember why he loves writing and why he started a journalism career in the first place. He feels the excitement growing inside him again, like it had back when he was in school.

Closing his eyes, Harry lets his mind wander—not for the first time today—to what transpired between him and Louis the other night in Louis' apartment. They haven't seen or talked to each other since. Harry had left early the next morning to be papped outside the building, and Louis was in his bedroom with the door closed.

Harry's cheeks flush, his face burning with the memory. He knows it was a terrible idea to give in to Louis like that, but given a chance to go back and do it over, he's not sure he could do anything differently. He can't stop thinking about Louis' eyes, how intense they were, never straying from Harry's face. And he can't stop thinking about Louis' small, delicate hand working him over so expertly, as if he'd done it a thousand times before. Harry's dick perks up just thinking about it, and he groans internally. He still has no good way to take care of himself. Louis had been so excellent at it that he'd probably let him do it again.

Harry can't believe he's even entertaining the thought. He's not a fan of casual sex. Louis is completely wrong when he says it doesn't mean anything. Right? Harry knows he holds the superior view, but fuck, if there isn't a part of him that wants to believe Louis, just as an excuse to do it again. They're not due to see each other for a few more days, though, and Harry knows that's probably a good thing, considering his current state of mind.

He shakes his head and tries to clear his thoughts. When that doesn't really work, he does the best thing he knows to rid his brain of sexual fantasies- calls his mother, Anne. She answers on the third ring, delighted to hear from him.

"It's about time you called your poor mom," she reproaches Harry, but he can tell from her voice that she's smiling. "How's your shoulder? I saw the pictures of you online with your sling on. My poor baby."

"Ugh, Mom, that's so weird. Don't look at pictures of me online."

"I can't help it! You're everywhere! I'm starting a little folder on my computer so I can make one of those digital scrapbooks. Gemma's going to help me. I loved the ones of you two at the dog park!"

"Mom!" Harry moans. "You can't make a scrapbook of my relationship with Louis. I told you, we're just friends."

"I know, I know," she says. "You're just so cute together. And I have one of those online coupons for the scrapbooking site. And, well, since I don't have any grandchildren to..."

"Hey!" Harry interjects. "I'm only 24! You've got to give me at least five more years before you put the grandkid pressure on!"

"I know, honey, I'm just teasing," Anne reassures him. "How's work going?"

"Great, actually," Harry responds, grateful for the change in subject. "I just interviewed Rihanna this week. It was so incredible. She has a foundation to help terminally ill children, and she does all kinds of work for cancer and AIDS charities. My whole article is focused on that. I think they're going to let me start an entire series showcasing celebrities' philanthropic work. I'm pumped about it."

"That's wonderful, sweetheart! I know that dealing with celebrities hasn't always been your favorite thing."

"It hasn't," Harry admits. "But I think I'm realizing that it's not the celebrities that bother me...it's the whole gossip/PR machine. If you can strip all that away and focus on who they actually are...some of them are really amazing people."