Polite//l.s

Epilouge

Five years.

It's been five years since I've seen him.

And here he is, standing two people in front of me in the fucking line at Starbucks.

Shit.

He's with Zayn.

And Zayn is with a girl.

And he's with a girl.

And he's being very cuddly with that girl.

They're next in line and the group shuffles forwards, Louis standing behind the girl and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

He used to do that to me when I was shorter than him.

Even when I started getting taller, he would get on his tip toes so he could wrap his arms around me.

I guess I'm not as over him as I thought.

I haven't dated anyone since we broke up, but I've just been blaming that on how busy I've been lately and how the stocks are kinda rocky right now.

Great.

My companies at risk of falling apart.
My heart seems like it wants to jump off a fucking cliff.
And he's turning around.

His eyes met mine, recognition immediately swimming through his features.

I kept my expression as neutral as I could, raising my eyebrows like I didn't know it was him.

As if. I would have known it was him even if there was a brick wall between us.

"Harry?" His mouth fell open, like he couldn't believe I was standing there in line.

"Hello Louis," I sent a casual smile his way. Casual. Not a smirk at all.

God damnit why don't I know how to smile properly and not douche-baggy.

"You're so different," he took his drink from the barista and walked over. Okay he was standing right in front of me. I literally had to look down at him. Down. "And tall oh my god," he suppressed a laugh with his hand.

"It may be my shoes," I looked down at the heeled boots I was wearing. They were black and they went with the suit I was wearing so whatever.

"I see business is going well," he motioned to my obviously expensive clothing.

"Very," I smiled.

After the fight with my father, I had spent two years making connections and alliances, eventually creating my own company that would shoulder out my father's. And it worked. Extremely well.

Which led to the breakup of me and Louis.

I was twenty one when it happened.

My new enterprises kept me busy, going to parties, making new connections. I suppose it was just a bit much for Louis; who was used to always having me around regardless of what was happened.

"You look good," he laughed, "Last time I saw you I don't even think you had cheekbones." He ventured even as far as poking one of my cheeks, making me smile, "At least you still have your dimples," he smiled up at me.

If he can have a civil, easy conversation with me like this, he obviously isn't still hung up on me.

"And your jawline is really nice," he rambled. "And your hands are huge!" He basically gave me a once over, but I wasn't complaining.

"Hey babe, who's this?" The girl he had been with before walked up behind him and gripped onto his arm, landing a kiss on his cheek that had me clenching my fists behind my back.