Louis didn't remember much from the party at his frat house on Saturday night.
He forgot where his T-shirt disappeared to, he couldn't recall how he ended up on the roof and he definitely had no idea why he thought a shot of Fireball followed by two shots of tequila would be a good idea.
There was, however, one thing – or rather, one person – that Louis remembered very clearly about the Sigma party. And that was Harry.
He remembered seeing Harry walk in, and instantly recognizing him as the boy in his literature class. He couldn't forget Harry's long, brown, wavy hair and how his jeans had a rip in the left knee. He could still picture Harry's thin, flowery shirt with the top three buttons undone, and his brown, worn-in ankle boots, as well.
Louis' favorite part about Harry was how he had seemed to tower over him while the two of them had briefly spoken at the party.
When Louis had gone up to him, he remembered thinking how much he wanted to see Harry's face when he came and how crazy his hair would be in the morning.
Unfortunately, he never got that chance, as Harry had shot him down at the first sign of Louis' flirting, something Louis was reminded of when he saw Harry walking on campus.
Louis was currently sitting in the middle of the academic quad, under one of the old oak trees.
He and Niall were "studying" for their upcoming midterms.
Louis glanced up and did a double take as he spotted Harry, who was walking out of the Fine Arts building.
Harry put the hood of his jacket up before pulling a cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.
It was a pretty simple action, but Harry's long legs and easy strides made it look so smooth.
Harry glided over the sidewalk, and Louis couldn't take his eyes off him; even more so when Harry tripped over seemingly nothing.
Louis snorted back a laugh when Harry looked around to see if anybody had noticed his misstep.
Niall heard the noise Louis made, and followed his gaze over to Harry, who was walking away from where they were sitting.
"Oh, isn't that the guy who rejected you at the party on Saturday?" Niall asked.
"He didn't reject me. He just didn't feel like flirting."
"Yeah, if that's what you want to call it. I just remember seeing you go over there, and him walking away a minute later."
"No way in hell that happened."
"That's what I saw. Then you went upstairs with Jeremy Martin like, an hour later."
"That was the same night?"
"Yeah," Niall answered slowly. "Hate to break it to you."
"Maybe that's where my shirt went..."
"Somebody threw your shirt up onto the roof toward the end of the night, and you, like an idiot, went up to get it."
"Is that why I was up there?"
"Do you remember anything from that night? It happened last week."
"Not really," Louis admitted. "I remember him, though. Harry."
"Shame, because Harry probably doesn't remember you."
"Fuck you."
"Nah. I don't sleep with people I love, remember?"
Louis smiled at Niall's remark.
About a year ago, Niall had come out to him as aromantic.
Louis could still remember the look of relief on Niall's face when he realized there was a name for what he was, for why he could have sex with people, but never felt the need or desire to fall in love with them; why he just didn't feel it, the romance, unlike some of the other people he'd been involved with.
