Putting on a Show (L.S)

Chapter 13

"I still can't believe I let that happen," I say, my arms crossed over my chest as I watch Harry take his shot for his turn in pool.

For some strange reason, I've allowed myself to be doing what he wants for the past week, and I hate that I'm such a people pleaser most times, especially for him lately.

"Well, Louis, I already told you I'm sorry- like a few hundred times, and you've been complaining about it for awhile. Can we please just drop it?"

"Fine," I mutter, taking a shot of my own, watching the ball fly right into the pocket.

"I told you that you didn't have to do it, though. You do understand that, right?"

I shrug, walking around the table, staring at the felt rather than even looking at Harry. "Yeah, I know. The more I do, the more money I make. So, you get your stunt and I get my cash, simple as that."

"Yeah, I don't think you'll make it the full 6 months, though," he muses.

"And why's that?" I ask, a bit offended, as I make another successful shot on the table.

"Well you've barely made it through the first one without wanting to curse at me and such. You know for a stunt, you're not the worst, but you're also not the best."

"Who was the best then?"

He shrugs, "I dated this one guy, uhm, Lucas. Yeah."

"What was so great about him?" I press, feeling this odd tightness in my stomach, and for some reason I want to know more. I'm not even sure why.

Harry laughs, "He was never afraid to be himself, y'know? Didn't care what we had to do or not do, and he was overall a really great friend. But Simon ruined him, so he quit early. Not sure where he wound up."

I nod, "Simon? What'd he do? The guy seems nice."

"Louis," he begins, pausing with some unreadable expression, almost like he's remembering something that's hurt him in the past.

"Louis, I've known I'm gay since I was 15, and I'm nearly 28 now. I've been working for Simon for 12 years, and he immediately knew my sexuality because I made it clear to him, but still he kept me closeted- someone I hated being, but he finally let me come out last year. Not entirely, but, yeah. It was something better than the 'straight womanizer' thing he's still trying to keep me on."

He sighs, sounding defeated and quite drained of energy from having to explain such a depressing thing.
I look over at him, noticing the way his eyes are filled with tears.

"Harry, it's not a big deal," I mumble out, just wanting him to stop so that I don't feel bad for him.

"Yeah, you're right," he manages to say, flashing a fake smile on his face.
The same smile I see him put on for the cameras. So I know, once again, it's fake.

I purse my lips, tapping my finger against the pool stick, my other hand on my hip.

"Uhm, if it helps, my mum doesn't even know," I whisper, ultimately just giving in, but only a little.

"Know what?"

"That I'm, erm, not straight."

"Well why not?"

"I don't think I have to tell you anything, Styles. You have a real problem with not knowing how to mind your business you know."

He opens his mouth to speak, but his phone rings.
I immediately place a bet in my mind that it's Simon, as he always seems to be calling Harry to say something quite rude.

I'm always able to tell because lately Harry's had me at his house frequently, and he simply isolates himself in his room for awhile when that happens.