Galileo - l.s

six

A week later, Louis was on the pitch, helping his coach put away the soccer balls and equipment. They had finished drilling a new attack and defense. The regional tournament was in four days. The rest of the team had started their two-mile run. Louis would catch up in a bit.

He noticed a figure coming out of the rear door of the school, closest to the athletic fields. The lean, tall figure carried a duffle to one side, his shoulder leaning slightly in the opposite direction for balance. He was walking toward the school driveway. Louis hurried to gather the rest of the cones and balls together.

“Coach, I'll be right back,” Louis said. “Leave the rest. I'll take care of it, ok?”

He ran toward Harry in his sweaty work-out clothes and cleats. As usual, Harry was in a plaid shirt over a plain T-shirt and ripped jeans, and as usual, he looked spectacular.

Harry looked up at Louis, running toward him with his hair flopping, and stopped in his tracks.

“Hey,” Louis said.

“Hey,” Harry said. He waited for Louis to say something. When he didn't right away, Harry resumed walking.

“Hold up, Harry,” Louis said, puffing out a breath. “This is, like, the Great Chase. You're constantly running away from me.”

“Maybe it’s a hint,” Harry said. Louis looked over. Was he smirking?

Louis reached out and put his hand on Harry’s forearm. “Stop for a sec, Harry. I need to ask you something important.”

Harry looked up. Louis’s face was one of complete seriousness.

“What, Lou?” 

“Okay, since no one’s around, I’m technically not breaking our deal.” Louis gestured to the fields around him, watching Harry as he shrugged. Harry didn't seem to care. “So. Here goes. Harry Styles, do you have school spirit?” Louis asked, in a low, somber voice.

Harry scrunched his nose. “What are you on about, jockstrap?” 

“Yes or no,” Louis persisted. “And, before you say anything, remember your sworn testimony before.” 

“Careful, Tomlinson.” Harry sniffed. “Testimony. Don’t trip over those big words. Did your girlfriend teach you?” 

His voice was killing Louis. The gravelly low tones were a magnetic tide that pulled Louis in, put him in a boat and stranded him on an island. Louis just wanted him to keep talking forever.

“Sorry, Styles. 'M not interested in girls," Louis said. "Except as friends." Harry’s face became confused. He actually seemed to be taken aback. Louis felt a little smug. “I’m asking a simple question, Styles. School spirit. Yes or no.”

It took Harry a moment to recover. Eventually, realization dawned over his face. His expression wavered between amusement and annoyance.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Harry finally said. “Good luck on the game this weekend.” He started walking away.

Louis stopped him with a touch on the arm, more forcefully this time.

“Are you coming?” Louis waited, barely breathing.

“What for?” Harry answered. “I'll find out on Monday. If you win, the whole school will be decorated with your face, even more ridiculously than it already is. If you lose—God forbid—everyone will be wearing funeral colors.”