Cocaine for Breakfast

Chapter 6

* * *

It's a week after the party, and the memory of a kiss that's still undiscussed makes Louis' heart clench every time he looks at Harry.

Louis vowed to himself that he wouldn't be the one to bring it up, leaving the decision to Harry. This is a mistake considering Louis can't think about anything else but Harry's pink soft lips pressed against his. When Harry stands close and Louis is able to smell his spicy cologne mixed with the vanilla, sea-salt combination that really shouldn't work but somehow does, his mind flashes back in time and suddenly he's leaning against the solid car while Harry plants kisses on his neck, teeth biting into his skin like it's chocolate and Louis has to school his expression, not letting the flush spread further.

It's kind of unfair, kind of hard to stomach, because the nagging feeling that lays heavy in his guts tells him it's all a major joke to Harry, who's acting as if nothing ever happened between them. Not their chat in the car, not Ivana snogging a girl that definitely wasn't Lara.

Louis curses himself for evolving such a bloody crush on the boy in the first place. Out of all people, all the guys he's snogged in the past - he, of course, had to fall face-first for someone that's apparently not as interested in him as Louis is in him and, to be honest, that's never happened before. It's eccentric, Louis used to be the one who dropped the boys he slept with, who thought because they fucked one time, they're gonna get married the following week. Oh, karma is a bitch. It's bittersweet, really.

However, one thing between them changed after all and Louis is fucking relieved it did: there is no sign of ' Rude-Harry' when they are alone or with friends. They earned a few puzzled and stunned glances from Lara and Liam whenever they ganged up against one of them, high-fived each other and refused to play a round of Mario Kart if one of them wasn't in the same team as the other. Niall thought it was hilarious.

Harry has been nice to Louis, laughing at his jokes and making Louis laugh in return. They hang out more often than not, driving around town, eating disgusting greasy food that probably shortens their lives, and being partners in crime, quite literally.

The drug deals are still exciting, dealing mostly weed, at least when they stay in Macclesfield. They went to another Uni party at the weekend, sold coke and pills, slept in Liam's dorm room on the floor — but they never touched, never kissed again.

They talked a lot too, not allowing it to get too personal but choosing to keep the topics safe, ones that both of them were comfortable with. Louis won't ever not be surprised at what comes out of Harry's mouth, convinced Harry has millions of Wikipedia pages memorised due to how he's able to spit out fact after fact after fact that most people probably never think about. It's fascinating.

They still banter back and forth, of course. Louis never could hold back, his tongue too fast to form words and by the time his brain's caught up, he has already said whatever it was that shot through his mind in the moment. Harry is smart, see, quick to spit out a feud and when Louis throws a witty remark his way, Harry keeps up, knowing Louis well enough now to understand it's never meant as an insult and thankfully doesn't take offence...or, he's simply got used to Louis' dark and biting humour.

When they get high together, laying outside on the grass in Harry's backyard and watching the clouds float by, it's mostly then that the useless facts come up and leave Louis' hazy brain stunned.

Who the hell knows that during your lifetime, you'll produce enough saliva to fill two swimming pools?

Harry, that's who.

But then Louis gets a glimpse of Harry's stomach, when he scratches his slender fingers lazily over the exposed skin and Louis has to swallow a mouthful of spit and he guesses maybe the theory about the swimming pools isn't too far from the truth after all.