Polaroids & Memories

The Truth ~ 6

( Harry's POV )

Louis and I finished our tea and desserts. He didn't really eat much thought. But just hanging out with him was amazing.

We walk towards the park now. Side by side. I kinda want to hold his hand again but I don't want to make him uncomfortable.

We took a picture together back at tea place. I couldn't help but smile at him. He's such a nice guy.

"Shall we sit over there, Louis?" I say to him, pointing at a park bench.

"Um...sure." He smiles shyly.

I lead him over to the bench and we take a seat.

"Are you having a nice day so far?" I ask him.

"Yes. A really nice day." He looks at me and smiles.

"I have school tomorrow... I wish I didn't have to go." I frown. I stare out at the small pond in front of us.

"Why don't you wanna go?"

"It's not that I don't like school..." I honestly just want to spend more time with Louis.

"School... huh?"

"Oh, sorry." I forgot that he doesn't go to school.

"No, it's fine. Actually, I love to hear about it. More so because I've never been able to go." He frowns.

"Really?" Wow, can't believe he never been to school. I mean he seems so smart and everything.

"I have a sister who tells me all about school every day. Just listening to her talk about her experiences there always makes me happy, too."

"You have a sister?" I'm surprised. I thought he was the only child.

"Yes. But we're total opposites. She's bubbly and outgoing and not at all shy like I am. She's away at a boarding school. Her name is Lottie Tomlinson."

"I see. How old is she?"

"She's fourteen."

"Oh...so she's older than you?" I say, confused.

"No. I'm older than her." He turns to look at me. "I'm sixteen."

"What? Really?" Wow, he looks and acts so young.

"Yes...." He says nervously. "How old are you Harry?"

"I'm.....eighteen." I say nervously.

"Oh."

"Yeah..." I laugh. "Well we should get going home." I stand up and extend my arm to him. "Shall we?" He stands up and holds my hand, blushing afterwards.

I blush. His hand is much smaller than mine. I would be able to hold both his hands with one hand.

"My house is that way." He points to the other side of the park. We walk together, holding hands.

He glances up at me once in a while. I think he's nervous.

"Ohh wait!" He yells and we stop at the middle of the park. He lets go of my hand and takes out his Polaroid camera.

Another picture? But why take pictures of the park.

He places his diary on the ground and holds up the camera, pointing it to the park. He snaps a quick picture. The photo comes out.

He grabs it and places the camera back inside his pocket. He picks up his diary and takes out his pen and writes something on the photo.

I glance down and read what he writes.