A Dangerous Game

Chapter 12

"Look, I don't have long. I just needed to tell you this before it came back to bite me," I whisper hiss, checking over my shoulder quickly. The shower is still running, but I still have no idea how much time I have.

"Sure. Yeah, okay," he stutters on the other end, obviously confused. But not for long.

"You can't tell Louis about our conversations, understood? If you call with more news tell him and don't mention a word about me. I don't want to press our luck."

"Wait, he doesn't know? Harry, why aren't you-" The bathroom door creaks open and I panic.

"Got to go, see you later bye," I rush out before hanging up and tossing the phone onto the bed. I jump after it, arranging myself in what I assume is a thoughtful position and turning my gaze to the wall just as Louis enters the room, water still dripping down his chest while a towel hangs loosely around his waist. He tilts his head at me with a questioning look.

"Were you talking to someone?"

"Me? Ha, no. Well, I suppose I could count talking to myself, but everyone does that." He doesn't look convinced with my answer and I force a blush, looking away and scratching behind my ear in what I hope is a shy way. Honestly, the behaviors aren't too hard to summon as he shakes out his wet hair.

"Okay then. You want next shower?"

"Oh, no, I'm good. I actually used the washroom earlier, because I know you use all the hot water." It's a lie but a good one and he scoffs, shaking his head with a slight smile.

"Like you don't. And why does it matter anyway, if I can pay for it?"

"Why Lou, isn't that a bit of a narcissistic perspective on life?"

He snorts, crossing the room and pulling open the closet. "Someone's philosophical this morning."

"Afternoon," I correct, gesturing towards the clock. He follows my finger and rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, let me correct my statement. Someone's feeling like a dickhead this afternoon."

"Well, I'm glad you're acknowledging it. That's the first step towards change, you know." I leave the room with a wink before he can contemplate whether or not to smack me. I hear him huff in the other room as I make tea, trying not to smile. I'm not sure when exactly I became so comfortable around him, but now I feel a bit guilty. I'm just starting to debate whether or not to apologize when he swoops in, commandeers my steaming cup, and takes a sip. He flinches as the liquid burns his tongue, but he still finds it in himself to be proper and lifts his middle finger towards me as he takes another drag.

"I'm sorry, but you have to be the most petty person I have ever met," I admit, trying not to laugh. He grins at me over the top of his cup.

"And proud of it, too." Our eyes meet and we both burst out laughing. He puts down his cup before he drops it, spills the tea on the floor, or both. I'm still giggling while I spread a thick glob of butter onto my toast, and there's a faint smile on his face even as we both sit down.

"God, you're really are immature, even for a kid," he jokes. I grin, blinking as I remember.

"Not a kid anymore." Then I hide my face behind my steaming mug. I can hear him gasp in front of me.

"No way. You did NOT turn eighteen and refuse to tell me."

"You're right. I wasn't hiding it from you...it just never really came up," I say, shrugging. After all, it's just another birthday. But his eyes are wide and a smile is bringing crinkles to his eyes.

"Well, it better come up next time. I didn't have time to get a present!"

"Don't worry about it, I haven't gotten anything on my birthday for three years." I admit. He blanches.