17 Black

19•

SHIT GUYS Louis IS SO HOT I CANT EVEN BELIVE LOOK AT HIS BOD HIS HIPS HIS THIGHS HIS SHINNNNS HIS HOT COLLARBONES SOS SOS SOS

Sorry that took so long I got grounded for talking to a boy who I wasn't supposed to talk to since he's ONLY FRICKIN 2 YEARS OLDER THAN ME WTF MOM. Anyway ily guys so much I cannot wait till I publish this chapter so I can read your guys' cute lil comments u guys r so nice and funny :*
-Bell
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"Louis?"

Louis' stomach lurches, and he knows before he even looks. Nate turns around quicker than him, but when Louis pivots on his barstool, skinny black straw hanging dumbly from his lips, he still thinks he might be having a small heart attack. He notices the eyes first--always drawn to their deep green--the hard structure of his jaw, straight lines of his eyebrows, nose, the wisps of curls around his face and neck. Most of all, Louis notices the unhappy downturn of his full lips, and the agitated crease between his brows. It brings a frown to Louis' own face before he lets the shock register, and it falls quickly.

"Har--"

Harry's eyes narrow exponentially and briefly flicker over to Nate, who Louis kind of forgot was there for a second.

"What're you doing here?" He interrupts abruptly, except the way he says it, it doesn't sound like a question.

Nate chooses to chime in then, his face contorted into an expression crossed between confused and irritated.

"We were just in the middle of having a nice conversation, and we were actually about to--"

"I didn't ask you," Harry cuts in, for the second time.

His voice is calm, but when he turns to focus on Nate, there's something like an edge in his eyes, sharper than a razor blade--a fire that Louis' never seen in him yet. It's alarming, and Louis blinks in surprise, looking up at Harry in blank confusion. Nate whirls around and stares down at him quizzically, clearly agitated. Louis follows his straw with his tongue until it slips into his mouth and drains a large portion of his drink.

"Do you know this guy?" Nate asks, hostile.

Louis looks between the two of them, suddenly unable to form a sentence, mouth hanging open, with the taste of citrusy vodka on his tongue going sour. He nods and unsuccessfully tries to think of something else to say.

"Umm..." He trails off, head buzzing and hand numbing around the ice cold drink in his palm.

Suddenly, there's a different hand wrapping around his bicep and another one stealing the vodka out of his grip, the sound of the glass clanking on the table. He's being tugged out of his barstool, and stumbles to regain his balance on the spinning floor, shoulder knocking into Nate's, who stands frozen in the same spot.

"We're leaving," Harry's saying beside him, turning towards the bar and flagging down Arie. "Keys."

He watches, dumbstruck, as Arie passes Harry something that looks like Louis' own keys. Louis doesn't even recall having them taken from him, which is probably a bad thing. He can vaguely hear Nate calling after them as Harry pulls Louis out of the bar, but he's a little caught up in how hot his hand feels around his bicep compared to the cold, still damp shirt on his skin. It makes him dizzier than he already is, and he bumps into the door on their way out, scowling at it intimidatingly afterwards. He hears a "what the fuck" from behind them, probably coming from Nate, and giggles, instantly stopping after Harry tugs his arm rather harshly.