This Feels A Lot Like Love

11. You're My Favorite Kind Of Night

After Harry devoured a delicious burger and strawberry milkshake, he kissed Troye goodbye on the cheek and headed home. He ignored Troye's persistent offers of joining him home where he clearly said his parents weren't there. He couldn't ignore Troye's suggestive tone or the way he rubbed his hand on Harry's upper thigh and kissed him wetly behind the ear, whispering to him how beautiful Harry was, how lucky Troye was.

Troye wanted to fuck Harry, which was weird, considering he looked like a bottom with his feminine features and dainty fingers. But he had a ravishing look in his eyes like he wanted to devour Harry and it frightened him. So, Harry politely declined and moved away from Troye's lingering touches.

"Are you sure?" Troye asked for the third time that night, pursuing his lips and silently asking for a kiss.

Troye leaned in to kiss Harry on his pulse point, but Harry dodged him and avoided his puckered lips.

"I'm sure. Honest," Harry promised, moving away.

"Okay," Troye said sadly, watching Harry go.

Harry hurried to unlock and open the car door. Just as he was about to climb inside, Troye called out, "Hey, Harry." He turned his head around to look at Troye.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you again for the roses. They were lovely. Now I have no doubt in my mind that you fancy me," Troye said with shining, red lips.

Fuck. Abort mission. Abort mission!

"No problem. It was my pleasure," Harry said politely before jamming the car door shut and speeding away.

Harry arrived home half an hour later. He sighed a long suffering breath and pressed his forehead on the steering wheel. He accidentally knocked into the horn, the car's alarm piercing through the silent night.

"Fuck," Harry shot up, alarmed.

Harry rubbed his forehead and climbed out. He felt at ease once he was home. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with a cup of tea. Tonight had been too much. Because what had his life succumb to anyways? Harry used to be this quiet, shy nerd that nobody cared about and ever since Louis stumbled into his life, everyone had become so severely interested in him and his romantic life. It was utterly exhausting and infuriating as well.

Harry whistled into the darkness and spun his dad's car keys on a loop around his index finger. It wasn't until the porch lights flickered back on that he noticed a dark figure looming on his porch step. Harry gasped, the keys falling to the floor from clutching his hand to his chest. The mysterious figure turned out to reveal none other than Louis, as in Louis Tomlinson waiting on Harry's porch step. For him.

"Christ, Louis, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, bending down to snatch up his keys.

Louis' eyes roamed Harry's body before they snapped back up and formed into half-slits. His eyes narrowed, scrunching his nose in that infuriating way he did when he wasn't happy.

"Where have you been?" Louis demanded, his voice a hostile tone.

Harry shrugged his shoulders uselessly and sidestepped Louis, unlocking the front door of his house. Before he could haul open the door to the cozy indoors, however, Louis stopped Harry with a hand on his shoulder. Louis pulled him back harshly, Harry almost falling to the floor with the sheer force of it.

"What the hell, mate?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Answer the damn question," Louis ordered, his eyes stone cold hard.

"You're not my mum for god's sake."

"I should be! Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed together. He looked down at the watch wrapped around his wrist. A quarter to twelve. Fuck. Harry guessed he didn't realize the time when he was hanging out with Troye since he had long stories and Harry enjoyed some storytelling. It was one of his favorite pastimes.