TORN

Chapter 3: The Stranger at the Bar

The bar was loud, but Harry felt strangely disconnected from the world around him. The dark corners, the chatter, the music—it all seemed distant. He took another sip of whiskey, hoping the alcohol would drown out the thoughts of Y/N. Whatever had happened between them gnawed at him, but he couldn't even say why he was here. He just needed space.

"Drinking alone? Or are you waiting for someone?" A voice broke through Harry's thoughts, light and playful. When he looked up, he saw a young man sliding onto the barstool next to him, flashing a cheeky grin without waiting for an answer.

"Uh... no, I'm alone," Harry muttered, still slightly caught off guard. The stranger sized him up openly, as if starting a conversation with a random person was the most natural thing in the world.

"I thought so." The guy—who radiated a kind of mischievous energy that Harry couldn't help but notice—waved to the bartender and ordered two drinks, acting like they were old friends. "Louis," he introduced himself, lifting one of the glasses toward Harry. "Cheers, to a hopefully less boring evening."

Harry hesitantly raised his glass and clinked it with his, still a little baffled by how easily Louis had inserted himself into his evening. "Harry," he finally replied.

"So, Harry," Louis began, his grin widening, "what brings a handsome guy like you to sit alone in a bar, staring into his drink like it's got all the answers?"

Harry blinked. "I... uh... just needed to clear my head."

Louis raised an eyebrow. "Clear your head? Sounds like you're trying to shake off something big." His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of curiosity beneath the surface, as if he was looking for something deeper.

Harry shrugged and avoided his gaze. "Maybe."

Louis leaned in a bit, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let me guess. Woman? Man? Forbidden love? Or are you just bad at relaxing?"

Harry almost choked on his drink. "What? No, I mean... it's complicated."

"Oh, I love complicated." Louis laughed, a warm, playful sound that made Harry smile despite himself. "You look like the type who tries to keep everything under control. But you know what? Control is so overrated."

Harry couldn't help but be intrigued by the ease with which Louis spoke. There was no filter, no hesitation, and that made him both refreshing and a little intimidating. "And you?" Harry asked, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen slightly. "Do you control everything?"

Louis chuckled again, softer this time, almost intimate. "I just let life happen. Why stress when you can have fun?" He licked his lips, a flirtatious glint in his eyes. "I bet you don't even know how to really let go, do you?"

Harry felt the blood rush to his face. "I... I didn't come here to... let go."

"No?" Louis tilted his head, eyeing Harry up and down as if he could see right through him. "But you look like someone who desperately needs to."

The tension between them was palpable, and Harry shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't that he'd never been flirted with before, but Louis did it so effortlessly that it threw him off balance. "I... I'm not..."

"You're not what?" Louis leaned back, grinning knowingly. "Interested? Or just not sure?"

Harry didn't know what to say. His thoughts were a jumble. Was he interested? He'd never really considered the possibility. But Louis... Louis was different. Direct, cheeky, flirtatious—and somehow, he made Harry feel completely out of his depth. "I don't know," he finally admitted, the words sounding hollow even to himself.

Louis laughed softly, almost triumphantly, like he'd gotten exactly the reaction he expected. "You know what, Harry?" He grabbed his handbag, rummaged inside, and pulled out a pen. "Sometimes it's easier to just try."

He scribbled something on a napkin, folded it up, and slid it across the bar to Harry before standing up. "Call me when you figure out what you're looking for."

Harry blinked, staring at the napkin before looking back up. Louis was already heading toward the dance floor, diving into the crowd with his arms raised above his head, laughing and moving with the music and other men.

A strange feeling bubbled up inside Harry. Jealousy? That couldn't be right. He had no reason to feel like this. But watching Louis flirt and dance with other men left a strange ache in his chest. He wished they'd talked longer. He wished he could have kept Louis to himself for just a little longer.

He glanced back down at the napkin in his hand. Louis' number was scrawled across it, and Harry knew this wouldn't be the last time he thought about tonight.

Harry had come to the bar to stop thinking about Y/N, and in that regard, he had definitely succeeded. Now, his mind spun with thoughts of the mysterious stranger, and the rest of the night, he couldn't stop thinking about Louis and what had just happened.