Beautiful Child - l.s

deux

JUNE 4, 1973

It's early evening on the first truly humid day in June, and summer brings hazy nights spent smelling like grass and heat. Summer brings a lot of things, actually. Midnight boat rides and bonfires on the beach, cold showers, fresh jasmine and lemon, the taste of ice creams and cold sodas and sticky fingers and staying up late in hopes of sealing in this feeling of invincibility forever.

And that's how Louis feels right now, lying on the grass in the backyard at Zayn's, right foot propped up on his left knee, football resting beside him and unadulterated laughter spilling from his lips as he listens to Zayn and Niall make quick ripostes to the insults they throw at each other.

"Ni, I swear to God if you let even a single ball hit the net in tomorrow's match, you're a dead man," Zayn warns, eyes resting on Niall in what's meant to be a glare, Louis figures.

"Oh shut it. I could say the same for you, fucker. If you miss even a single shot tomorrow, you're a dead man," Niall shoots back, voice rising a pitch higher to imitate Zayn's tone.

Louis can't help but snicker again at the disgusted look Zayn throws at Niall, his fingers mindlessly playing with the grass, uprooting them and twirling them between his slender fingers.

"Cut it, you two. I don't want our team losing two players just because you two couldn't keep your egos at bay. Tomorrow's only the first match, we've got to get through five," Louis cuts in, rolling his eyes when Zayn raises a single eyebrow at him. "Just please, try not to kill each other for a few more days or something."

"As you say, captain," Zayn leans sideways over Louis with a smirk, ruffling his hair affectionately and stays that way, half on top of him. "Did you hear though? There's a new resider in our neighbourhood, little Lou. Heard he's just moved from San Francisco, filthy rich and he's young, too."

Louis places his palms on Zayn's chest, trying to push him off. But Zayn stays put, leaning in close and licking Louis' cheek lightly, causing Louis to wrinkle his nose and smack his shoulder.

"You know, I'm still convinced that you both fucked," Niall pipes in, who had been watching them with raised eyebrows, making Louis gasp in mock indignation.

"I can assure you we haven't," Louis sets forth, scowling at him. "I've got my innocence intact, thank you very much. Besides, Zayn's straight, aren't you Zaynie?"

"Sure," is all Zayn responds with, shrugging once non-committally, moving away from Louis' splayed out form and sitting back down on the grass.

Louis directs his attention back to the conversation at hand. "Mhm, yeah. I've heard about him, too. Actually, mum's baking a pie for him, said we need to welcome him properly and all. She must've gone to his house by now I'm sure."

"What I'm thinking is, if he really is that moneyed, the fuck is he doing here? Doesn't make sense to me," Niall points out.

"He's stinking rich, mate. Bet he's grown up in a manor or some shit. Not sure anything he does has to make sense. Hate the lot, I do," Zayn mumbles. Louis hides his fond smile in the back of his hand, putting his right foot back on the ground.

"Do you think he'll come to our game tomorrow? Or the bonfires and stuff?" Niall asks.

"I doubt he will. It's been weeks since he's moved in and he hasn't tried to talk to anyone yet," Louis answers, brows scrunching in genuine question.

"Has he come to the diner yet? Oh wait, Zayn mentioned he's flushed, ain't he? Doubt he'll want to eat hamburgers instead of caviar or whatever the big shots eat," Niall snickers to himself.

Louis lets out an affronted huff and feels irritation rise within him at the newcomer, clenching his jaw subconsciously. The man, infact, had not come by the diner, and Louis feels offended by it. Skyline Diner is one of the  best things about Shermer, honestly, and not stopping by to eat there atleast once is insulting to the say the least.

Okay, maybe Louis is being a bit dramatic but he's so intrigued by this curious stranger. He doubts anyone in the town has even seen his face, and keeping in mind that he moved in May, it's clear that he isn't interested in mingling about with his neighbours.

"Do you know his name, Niall?" Louis asks suddenly, noticing that he's just interrupted Zayn and Niall's conversation a second later.

Niall looks surprised by the sudden outburst but recovers quickly. "Oh, uhm, It's Harry, I think. Harry Styles."

"Styles? The fuck kind of name is that? Sounds like some hippie rock singer who invites groupies to his greenroom. Pretentious twat," Louis mutters, looking much like a disgruntled kitten. Niall throws a curious glance at him but lets it go, picking up the conversation he was having with Zayn.

Louis turns over to lay onto his stomach, resting his temple on his folded arms, there's probably mud on his clothes and skin but he can't bring himself to care; mind still set on the newcomer. He wonders who the man could be, and what he's come to do in Shermer.

Admittedly, there aren't many attractions in the town, spare the late night bonfires and barbecues that are held occasionally by the shore when the heat isn't too unbearable, but that's about it. There is a beach, albeit a small one with huge rocks covering one-fourth area in the sand.

If he's being honest, the only events that truly cause any pep are the few football matches that are held every summer. They're mostly between high school students who have not a thing to do in their vacations, and sometimes a few college students. The matches aren't anywhere near the professional level, but everyone hypes them up nonetheless.

Louis lets out a long suffered sigh, unexpected breeze cooling the exposed skin of his arms and legs. Gulping the lemonade left in his cup in one go, he mentally prepares himself for another dreary summer, blissfully unaware of just how wrong he really is.

             
                                        //

short chapter, i know. the next ones will be longer :) do leave comments please! so i know that you're interested and want me to continue the story x