Dirty Little Secret » Larry AU

PART 3: Rejection

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The following day, Caleb and I had a football game. I am not going to tell you too much about it, simply because I assume you could not be less interested in the details. We had practiced an awful lot the day before, hence my intense muscle fever in the anterior thighs. Regardless, I was gonna do my best. Not just because I loved the thrill after winning, but because that day, there was for some reason a bigger audience.

While stretching my calves, I glanced over the crowd outside the court and began to search for familiar faces. There was Elise on a chair next to a stranger. Oh, maybe not a stranger—Adeline just sat down in his lap. New boyfriend? Next to Adeline and her supposed boyfriend was Niall, who was—quite depressingly—talking to himself, it seemed.

None of them seemed to pay attention to me. However, somebody else certainly did. My eyes connected with the penetrating ones a few rows behind my friends, which—of course—belonged to Harry Styles. I use the word penetrating simply because it felt like his orbs were literally peering through my body. It was intense.

Once he noticed my glare, he instantly shot me a side-smirk. I winced and let my leg regain my focus before effortlessly finding my way back to my watcher. He was licking his lips when I crouched down to stretch my right hamstring. Naturally, I cringed and looked elsewhere. Feeling uncomfortable, I stood up straight, shook one leg after the other and finally rubbed my hands together.

And so I looked up at him again.

He was still staring.

Still, just as intensely.

Still. Penetrating.

The game started, and as luck would have it, I was feeling extraordinarily confident. By the time half the game had passed, I had scored three goals—one of which caused the loudest cheer and applause of the entire game. While clapping my hands along with the crowd and my teammates, my gaze travelled over to Niall. He was standing up on top of his seat while cheering and clapping like a wild person. I laughed, sending him a wave which he excitingly returned.

Alike my expectations, Styles was still shooting me down with his stare, only then he was genuinely smiling—an expression which I was not far too familiar with. My curly headed watcher slid his ring-covered fingers past his lips and blew, a whistle that I could not hear due to the distance supposedly emerging in his area.

Adeline and the stranger beneath her were waving hysterically to attract my attention, so I ultimately gave in a waved back. Elise dramatically blew a kiss in the air which I seconds later pretended to catch, causing her to burst into laughter. Then I felt a teammate seize my shoulder before we all hurried into a huddle.

The rest of the game went just as well, if not better. Feeling as though I had taken a sip out Harry Potter's Liquid Luck, I sprinted across the court with my arms spread in the air. The crowd reaction was—obviously—even more energetic then, as we had just won the entire game. The final score was eleven-four, which was superior in comparison to what we had experienced before.

After sharing sweat (hugging) with each member of the team, I hurried off of the court and greeted my friends. There was another sweaty huddle along with friendly kisses and back pats exchanged for the next fifteen minutes. As I was getting quite overwhelmed by the intense reaction, I decided to take a breather and walked off to the side to collect myself.

That was not a good idea.

Damnit, Louis.

"I don't know what's sexier; your footie techniques or the way you look when you're all sweaty."

Again. Damnit.

The sentence basically echoed inside my scull along with my panting and when I finally laid my eyes on the source of the speaking, I released potentially the biggest sigh of the entire day.

"Styles," I forced out, my throat sore due to the heavy exertion. With the help of my fingers, I jerked the fabric of my jersey and in order to fan my torso with fresh air. "What do you want?"

He inched closer while tucking his hands behind his back, his gaze slowly inspecting my body from head to toe. His lips were dripping with smugness as he spoke, "I want a lot of things, Tomlinson."

"Alright," I scoffed. "You know what I meant."

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, "I wanted to tell you congratulations. You were really good out there," he said. "I must admit I don't have much knowledge when it comes to football, but what I do know is that you scored the most goals, and that's rather impressive."

"Right, you're trying to compliment me again?" I squinted my eyes, nonchalantly balancing my hands on my hips. "This might come as a shock, but I don't give a shit about what you think of me."

He pursed his lips, nodding. "Why so glum?"

"Why so intrusive?"

Harry chuckled, "You interest me."

"Let me guess, I'm the sexiest guy on the court, you can't keep your eyes off of me, and you wanna ask for my number?"

"Pretty much."

My jaw clenched, "See? You're so predictable. This is what you do. This is what you never get tired of doing. I'm not gonna let your words affect me."

"I'm predictable?"

"Yes!" I laughed.

"Okay." Harry scratched his jaw, grin growing wider as he proceeded thinking. "So I can't have your number?"

"No." Was it really that hard to understand? "I thought I made that pretty clear."

"You did," he grumbled, bouncing on his toes a little as his eyes began to bore deeper into mine. "Although I do recall you not being able to keep your eyes off of me either, on the court."

"That's true, but that was only because you were staring at me. You should know that it gets creepy when the target isn't into it."

"You're feisty," he chirped.

Rolling my eyes, I went, "Jesus. Do you ever get offended?"

"You're trying to offend me?"

I sighed, "Whatever." Wasting my time on him was the last thing I wanted to do, so I secured the laces on my trainers, stood up straight, stretched my arm, and began walking past the smirking boy—that was until he seized my wrist, instantly making me shudder away. "What are you doing?"

"Stop lying to yourself."

A shiver went through me. I stammered, "W-What? What's that supposed to mean?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets, yet again, this time smiling rather than smirking. I got caught up, because something about the way he looked at me in that moment made me feel embarrassed. It was as if he had just torn my clothes off and I was standing naked, in public.

"I'll see you at school."

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