Songs For How You Taste | l.s.

Chapter 28

Harry made it through exactly half his day pouting in his bed, feeling sorry for himself. He woke up to the sheets feeling way too cool and house sounding way too quiet. Normally, he spent his mornings waking up to a warm body pressed against him either begging him to go back to sleep or begging him to get up and fix breakfast.

Harry decided that he'd give the world for that right now.

But instead he moped. Because he was an idiot who picked a fight with his boyfriend that said that he'd talk to him tomorrow. That just screamed don't reach out to me first, didn't it?

So, Harry did his laundry – washed everything except the stuff that smelled like Louis because he wanted to bundle all that up and make a blanket of it. And he sat on the couch, flipping through channels and Netflix, but Harry realized after Louis picked pretty much all the shows that they watched, he was pretty shit at picking stuff out.

And he didn't hear from Louis.

He did a bit of yoga, but everything felt so stiff and he was so worked up that every time he tried to maintain his balance, he would just topple over. He huffed in annoyance and blew up to get a piece of hair out of his eyes – it didn't work. It just flopped right back down.

What was he meant to do? Because the note said that Louis would talk to him tomorrow. But there obviously wasn't a time. And if Harry was honest, he'd have to admit he felt a bit useless.

Harry's finger hovered over the dial button until he closed his eyes just pressed it. He listened to the line ring, ring, and ring until, "Hello?"

"Niall? Hi, uh – what are you up to?" Harry asked.

"Hey, mate. I'm gonna head out to the pub for lunch in a few with Jess and this bloke from class."

"Uh – could I maybe join?"

"Of course you can, mate. We'll be at Scholar's. See you at 1?"

"Yeah, see you there."

Even though it was only noon, Harry just threw a white fur lined denim jacket over what he already had on and got in the car. He could be thirty minutes early and get a table, he just couldn't stand the suffocating silence that his house was sitting in anymore. He lifted his arm to buckle his seatbelt and only then realized that the jacket he had on belonged to Louis.

Harry winced, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe. It was fine, Louis would call.

Scholar's was a pub on campus, so Harry could just park in the student parking lot and walk over. He was drinking his second pint in a booth when he saw Niall and Jess walk in, another guy trailing behind them. Harry waved enthusiastically downing the rest of his drink as he got their attention and called them over.

"Hey, H," Jess said, wrapped her arms around him immediately after Niall did. "What are you drinking? I'll go get us all a round."

"Guinness," he said, raising his empty glass to her. Niall clapped him on the back.

"A man after my own heart, I'll have the same, please Jess." Niall slid into the booth, sitting next to Harry. "Harry, this is Cal. We take International Political Affairs together."

"Calvin, nice to meet you." Calvin stuck his hand across the scratched wooden table and Harry took it gingerly, head swimming under the beer and intense gaze from Calvin's brown eyes. Or honey, Harry thought. Honey was a better descriptor for his eyes, honey eyes with honey skin and curly hair. Calvin held onto Harry's hand a beat too long, interrupted by Jess sitting four glasses down on the table.

"Anyone have any good plans for the weekend?" Niall asked.

"I'm going hiking tomorrow," Calvin offered, speaking up first. Not in the mood for conversation, Harry didn't speak up – despite the fact that Calvin's answer was directed towards him. In fact, after Harry finally looked up from taking a long gulp of his beer, he noticed that Calvin was only looking at him.