Songs For How You Taste | l.s.

Chapter 9

warning: mature content

What are you doing right now?

Harry texted Louis. Normally on midday Saturday, Louis was in bed, watching Netflix. Me time he called it. He took his chances, betting that Louis was doing precisely that. Because unbeknownst to Louis, Harry was parked outside his dorm in his old rusted green truck.

Louis felt his phone vibrate somewhere under the comforter that was pulled up over his shoulders. Since it was an unusually warm day for November, Louis had his air con blasting so that he could comfortably lay under the thick cover. He pressed pause on How I Met Your Mother and went searching for the phone.

Just watching Netflix. What's up?

I'm outside. Come with me somewhere?

Louis jolted up. Shit. Harry was outside his dorm? Louis was wearing boxers and a ridiculously oversized hoodie that brushed the top of his thighs and had his high school's logo big and ugly across the chest. And he doesn't remember if he showered last night. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Louis threw on the first pair of pants his fingers found, which happened to be an Adidas pair of joggers. He shrugged off the hoodie and threw on a clean shirt, sniffing the armpits of the shirt first, just to make sure. He normally wore his hair styled up with gel, a hairstyle Zayn showed him how to do when he first got to uni.

But if Harry was parked outside his dorm, he didn't have time to take Zayn's circular hairbrush and style it up. He'd have to wear his hair how it fell naturally, in a soft fringe that went a little past his eyebrows.

He walked out, keys and wallet sliding into place in his pockets, finding Harry's rusted green truck, sure enough, parked right outside. Louis slid into the passenger seat and huffed at Harry.

"I'm all for an adventure, don't get me wrong. But maybe a little warning next time?" He said, no greeting for Harry. He didn't think he deserved one, given the short notice.

"Your hair – it's different."

Louis sighed, running his hands quickly through the fringe that sat softly against his forehead then dropped his hands in his lap. "I know it's really ugly and very high school. This is literally how I wore my hair then. But like I said I had no-"

Louis stopped talking because Harry scooted over to him slightly, his long fingers reached out and followed the same pattern that Louis' did. Except his movements were softer, slower. He ran his fingers through Louis' hair and smiled. "I like it." Harry stated, decidedly.

Louis was staring into Harry's bright green eyes when he spoke. "Where are we going?"

"Ah, yes. Right. Swimming in the lake." Harry responded, throwing the truck into drive and handing Louis his phone to put on music.

"In November?"

"It's sunny out today and it's fairly warm."

"It's not swimming in the lake warm, H. I'd rather not die of hypothermia before I've earned my degree and made something of myself."

"Well, you certainly are something. A force to be reckoned with, for sure. Surely you can handle a little cold." Harry began speaking in a mock condescending voice, fully knowing that the best way to get Louis to do something was to tell him he couldn't. "On second thought, you're right. I should turn back." Harry's actions didn't meet his words, he turned and started down the highway, towards Lake Monroe.

"Harry," Louis groaned. He leaned his elbow against the door of the truck and rested his head on his hand.

"No, no. You're right. You can't handle the cold. Who knows what would happen to your poor little baby toes?"