Summary:
Louis works in a coffee shop, Harry forgets his umbrella and they're both very stupid.
**
The rain fell from the sky like rapid bullets, hitting Harry's head as they fell. Bringing an umbrella would've been a good idea, thought Harry as he tried to shield himself from the harsh rain. He searched for the nearest /something/ that could shelter him from the wet, bitter weather and was lucky enough to have his eyes land upon a toasty looking coffee shop.
Nearly slipping and almost giving himself a concussion on the sidewalk, Harry managed to stumble in the shop soaking wet. His shoes squeaked as he went to sit down at a corner booth, and he refused to look up, fearing that he would be greeted with muffled giggles at how ridiculous he most likely looked. He sat down with a small *squish* and cringed at how disgusting it sounded and how the wet fabric of his pants felt on his skin.
Harry's thoughts were interrupted when a voice spoke, "Um, mate?" Standing in front of him was, Harry swore to God, possibly the most gorgeous man that had ever walked earth. Eyes so blue there was no metaphor or simile that could even compare, caramel hair that was tucked into a maroon beanie, and soft tan skin that Harry wanted to leave love bites all over.
"I could, um, get you, like, a towel or something."
Harry continued to gape at the boy, "Huh?"
"Not to be, like, an asshole," Gorgeous continued, "but, I'm trying to be nice, for like once. I asked if you wanted a towel. I don't know if you can tell but number one, it's raining, number two, you're soaking wet and number three, you're sitting on leather."
"Oh, um, sorry..." Harry muttered as pink filled his cheeks, "yes please. Sorry."
"'S no problem." Gorgeous said, leaving to get Harry a towel.
Jesus fucking Christ. Harry ran his hands over his face. Smooth, Styles. Way to creep out the hottest guy ever, he thought to himself once he collected his thoughts together.
"This one should be clean," Gorgeous handed Harry a towel and sat in front of him. "if it's not, sorry about that."
Harry dried himself as quickly as he could and sat on the towel, because, you know, leather. "I never quite got your name," he pointed out, suddenly growing confidence.
"I never got yours either," Gorgeous shot back with a smirk.
"Harry."
"Louis," Louis stuck his hand out, "pleasure to be aquatinted with you, Harry."
"Likewise." Harry took his hand and shook it, letting his hand linger for a bit.
"Listen, it would be lovely to stay and chat, but," Louis cocked his head back, gesturing towards the kitchen, "I gotta work. See you around, mate."
Before Harry could reply, Louis trotted away.
-
"Blue eyes, Zayn, blue fucking eyes!" Harry threw himself on the sofa.
"What happened this time?" Zayn mumbled as he set his book down and looked at Harry's body sprawled on the couch.
"I met a boy," Harry started
"Cute as can be?" Zayn butted in.
"Don't you fucking quote Grease right now, Malik, I'm trying to tell a story." Harry grumbled as he say upright and faced Zayn. "So, I met a boy,"
"We established that part, babe," Zayn muttered
"Just listen!" Harry whined, "Anyways, so, I forgot to bring an umbrella right? And, thank god for that, cos you know what? I'll tell you, I walked into the first place I saw, to you know, get dry and such. It was a coffee shop, if you were wondering. Okay, anyways, so I sat, right? In this small little booth, so cute, yeah, okay, and while I'm sitting there moping because my clothes were all wet, and here comes this- this- Jesus, he was beautiful, alright? Like, I bet if you saw him you would come up with millions of poems in your head. And he asks me if I want a towel and I say yes and him names Louis, christ, it even /sounds/ perfect."
