TORN

Chapter 9: Irresistible Gravity

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, his head spinning from the whiskey and the chaos in his mind. Y/N's hurt face kept flashing before him, but there was something else—something stronger and far more unsettling. Louis. That cocky, flirty, carefree guy who had managed to crawl into his thoughts and turn his world upside down.

His head fell back against the couch, eyes closed as the image of Louis came flooding back: the way he had looked at Harry in the bar, those cheeky smiles that seemed to say more than words ever could. Louis had unsettled something deep within him, something Harry had buried for far too long. He wasn't supposed to feel this way—confused, pulled in two directions, torn between what he thought he wanted and what was unfolding right in front of him.

Suddenly, his mind stilled. It was like everything had quieted down for a brief, sharp moment. He grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the screen. He knew exactly what he was about to do, and for once, he didn't care about the consequences.

"Fuck it!" Harry muttered under his breath.

"Put something nice on. Come to my place, now. -H"

The message was direct, and Harry didn't care about the consequences. He just needed Louis here—needed to settle whatever had been left unsaid between them.

Within minutes, there was a sharp knock at the door, and Harry's heart rate spiked. Of course, Louis wouldn't waste any time.

Opening the door, Harry was greeted by Louis, leaning casually against the frame, smirking like he had already won some unspoken game. He looked effortlessly perfect, his tight jeans hugging him in all the right ways, and a shirt that hinted at more beneath. But it was his eyes—those playful blue eyes—that had Harry's pulse quickening.

For a moment, their gazes locked—blue meeting green in a clash of intensity.

Louis shifted his weight, his smirk growing as his eyes raked over Harry. "So... gonna let me in, or are you just gonna stand there brooding like you're in some kind of dramatic movie?"

Harry didn't respond with words. Instead, he grabbed Louis by the collar of his shirt and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind them. Their lips crashed together in a heated kiss, all that pent-up tension from weeks of dancing around each other finally breaking loose.

Louis laughed against Harry's lips, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath coming in short bursts. "Damn, Harry. Didn't know you'd be so eager." His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of excitement to it.

"You talk too much," Harry muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. He couldn't stop his hands from roaming over Louis' body, couldn't stop the heat that surged between them.

Louis, as always, seemed to thrive on pushing boundaries. His fingers tangled in Harry's curls, tugging just hard enough to make Harry groan. "Guess you've been thinking about me a lot, huh?" Louis' grin was wicked, and Harry could feel the teasing confidence radiating from him.

"Don't flatter yourself," Harry shot back, but even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. He had been thinking about Louis—far more than he wanted to admit.

Louis chuckled, that low, throaty laugh that drove Harry insane. "Too late. I already know." He leaned in , his lips brushing against Harry's ear as he whispered, "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? About me. I could see it in your eyes, Hazza. You've been trying so hard to act like you're in control, but you've been dying to let go."

Harry's breath hitched, his grip on Louis' hips tightening. He hated how right Louis was—how easily he could read him, strip away the layers he tried so hard to keep up. And the worst part? It turned him on even more.