Boys Don't Cry

Sweetheart All Wrong

February

Harry and Isabel turned to see Louis marching across the road, his car poorly parked opposite them and his arm slung over his head in a feeble attempt to keep his smart white shirt dry.

"I don't fucking believe this!" He was absolutely seething, his whole chest rising and falling as he stopped in front of them. Harry was at least an entire head taller than him, but Louis didn't seem to notice he was there.

"I've been ringing you non-stop for two fucking hours!"

"Sorry, my phone must have died," Isabel replied in an attempt at nonchalance, but her hands were shaking. "I'm sorry, I didn't –"

"Okay, whatever, just get in the car," Louis snapped, turning on his heel without waiting for her to reply.

"Why, where are you going?"

"We're going for dinner with my parents," Louis said matter-of-factly. "I fucking forgot they were coming, and they really want to meet you, and fucking hell we can't be late so please let's just go."

"But I – I kind of made plans," she stuttered, and his face screwed up in confusion.

"Plans? What fucking plans? With who? Just cancel, they won't mind."

"With Harry." Isabel glanced up at him, and saw he was staring at Louis passively, his eyebrow raised slightly.

"Who's Harry?" Louis asked, rubbing a hand across his face in stress.

Harry gave a little wave, biting back a smile. Louis looked him up and down, his neck going red beneath his white shirt as he glared at him.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Isabel's friend," Harry replied cheerily, almost extending a hand to shake before deciding against it.

"We met at work."

Louis whipped his head back to look at Isabel, who was anxiously dancing from foot to foot, her feet splashing in the puddles.

"But you don't like the guy you work with."

"I never said that," she said quickly.

"Yes you did, Millie told me."

She laughed hastily. "That was in like January, Louis, I've mentioned Harry loads between now and then."

She looked up at Harry, hoping he was still finding the exchange funny, but he was now staring into the distance, his tongue pressed into his cheek.

"I don't have time for this shit!" Louis tugged on his hair and glared furiously at her. "Isabel, get in the fucking car right now!"

"But I –"

Louis looked just about ready to explode when he suddenly, quite visibly, changed tactic. Softening his expression, he stroked Isabel's face gently and gazed into her eyes.

"Please, babe, you have no idea how much this has been worrying me. Please come with me, I need you there."

It was almost pathetic how much Isabel wilted under his touch, and she tried and failed to keep her face stony. "They've been dying to meet you, I swear. Come on, Issy, come with me."

Louis lent down and brushed his lips against hers, tugging her bottom lip between his teeth slightly and swiping it with his tongue. Her heart hammered in her chest, gripping onto his smart shirt tightly, knowing with an aching heart she would follow him wherever he asked her to go.

Louis pulled away, giving Harry a look that Isabel didn't see before stalking off to the car without a second look. Isabel glanced at Harry, embarrassed that he'd been present for her and Louis' discussion, but he wasn't giving her the scathing, smug look she thought he would. Instead, he was staring at her with an expression she couldn't work out, a mixture of disappointment and disbelief and possibly even anger, the curls poking out from under his hood sopping wet and dripping in front of his face.