Watermelons and Indiscretion

Chapter 1

Louis recalls being really put out when his mother told him that they would be housing some Brit. "Arretez de vous morfondre et allez preparer la chambre pour lui; il sera ici bientot." Quit your moping around and go get the room set up for him; he'll be here shortly; She had scolded, ushering him in the general direction of the spare bedroom that is attached to his own. He had rolled his eyes, dragging his feet as he does what she tells him. "Est-ce repare?" Is it fixed up, she asks as he makes his way back into the dining room. He nods his head as he lifts a croissant off the table to lather in hazelnut spread before stating, "Je ne comprends pas pourquoi faisons ca maintenant." I don't understand why we're doing this, now; he states, the French spilling from his tongue effortlessly. She wipes some of the spread off the corner of his lip, tutting him for being such a mess before answering in English, "Because he is studying abroad, and you know what, I don't need to explain myself to you." She scolds, making her way to the front of the house as the unmistakable sound of tires crunching on gravel reaches their ears. He tries to fight the eyeroll and obvious groaning, he really does, but he just can't help it. "Bonjour, Harry!" Louis's mother greets, jovially, the 'H' in his name falling away in their tongue. "Bonjour, Madame Deakin." He had greeted, just as jovial. His voice alone should've told Louis that this was going to end in a mess of heartbreak and tangled limbs; the voice that sent a pleasant tingle down the length of his spine, the voice that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and had stirred something awake within his trousers. "Louis!" his mother beckoned. He rushes to her side, trying to avoid any eye contact with the stranger with the most beautiful voice. "Oui, maman?" he queried, looking at her rather than the stranger that he senses is towering over him. "Help Harry up to his room, would you?" she asks in English. He nods his head once, taking one of Harry's suitcases and nodding his head toward the house, gesturing for this stranger to follow him. "Merci—" "You don't have to always speak French; we're from Doncaster, so our English is rather perfect. We just prefer to speak French while we're here." Louis interrupts, not bothering to look over his shoulder to quench his thirsty curiosity. "Right." Harry mutters, sighing. "So, this is your room; my room is connected, so be sure to knock if you need anything." Louis sighs, setting the suit case beside the door before he finally gets a glimpse of this stranger and he really wishes he hadn't. He's utterly breathtaking, he finds himself thinking as he stares into the jade colored eyes. "Your room is connected right through that door there?" Harry asks, pointing to the open door. Louis nods, clasping his hands behind his back, unsure what to do with himself. Harry nods, running a hand through his hair. "I'll be sure to knock, then." Harry hums, his voice had dropped an octave and Louis can't help but wonder why. "Dinner will be served soon; I'll let you know when." He informs before he's rushing out of the door they had just walked through together.

At dinner, Harry is the perfect gentleman and Louis uses all of his willpower to ignore him. He's not here for more than a couple of months, no need to get attached. "What do you do for fun, Louis?" Harry asks him, leaning against the table, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Louis shrugs, sighing as though bored when in all reality, his heart had done a funny flip at the words. "Nothing much. I like to just bike the country-side, go for a dip in the river near here, take the girls out for fun." "The girls? Your sisters?" Harry asks, eyes sparkling at him. Louis nods his head before checking his watch, pressing a kiss to his mother's cheek before telling her, "Promis de rencontrer le groupe au bord de la riviere." Promised to meet the group down by the river; his French dripping off his tongue. "Don't be out too late." His mother returns; he catches her shrug a shoulder at Harry as he makes his way out. Louis is surrounded by his favorite people and has a beautiful girl in his lap, but where is his mind? Back at his home with the man with chocolate curls and the voice as rich and thick as molasses. "Est-ce que ca va?" Are you okay, the girl asked; her brown eyes boring into his cerulean ones, a wrinkle in her brow as she takes in his distracted appearance. He shrugs his shoulder, lying back before responding, "Bien; laisser seul." Fine; leave it alone. She had scoffed, climbing off his lap with an eye roll. Louis is unperturbed by her annoyance; he, simply, leans forward with his elbows on his knees as he watches all of his friends skinny dip into the river.