we're like bumper cars ~ l.s.

chapter 8

Nothing better comes out of the next day. There's training at the stadium just a 3 minute walk down the hotel's promenade. The team is there for 4 hours, a lunch break occurring at midday where Louis finds his own way to a kebab shop. He eats alone. As he should.

He is having down time after running a lap around the 800 metre track, stretching his thighs and taking in deep breaths. Harry's still pacing himself around the course, eyes never leaving his destination; the finishing line. Louis gazes at him from a distance. He can see the sweat forming on his head and it shines so bright against the day. Harry's mouth is still the same fleshy pink from last night.

Absolutely nothing happened last night. Harry got out of the shower, then Louis jumped straight in without exchanging glances. Both of them got a knock upon the door by Coach, who was checking up on them to see how they were going. Both nodded okay to him, Louis from the bed, and Harry in the corridor. He was reluctant to leave them behind, but he eventually left and Harry trotted back to his bed, where he slipped under the covers and fell asleep without a word.

Louis doesn't know what he did wrong, but he's sure he's done nothing. Harry's just playing the role of who they actually are. They hate each other. They aren't supposed to talk to each other. They're just playing pretend.

Louis sees him pass the finish line. Louis hopes that Harry will do the same at the actual event; but 5 minutes before him.

The team collects themselves by the front of the bus in front of the stadium, where Coach announces the rules for their shopping trip. They're maniacs trying to scramble onto the bus. Louis sits in the same seat he had saved for himself. He's alone and digging straight into his phone, messaging Niall anything and everything. Anything and everything, but about Harry.

Louis expects that maybe Harry would ask him to wait behind once they're dismissed from the group at the shopping centre. Harry goes missing instantly, so Louis is left to fend for himself in the heart of the biggest malls in the state. He dawdles along the endless corridors of shops and kiosks, only turning into the fair few which deserved Louis' attention. He plans to buy new shoes, maybe a pair of sunnies. Something fashionable and trendy. He wonders what Harry's planning to buy. He wonders if Harry is going to follow up on his words and buy what he wants him to buy.

Louis doesn't buy a pair of shoes, or sunglasses. He finds himself buying a milkshake. He doesn't know what went wrong. All he know is that he's spared the 250 bucks he had specifically kept away for this Interstate competition. He's not happy with his one and only purchase, but he's saved from with the guilt of spending too much.

Hearing the word "let's head back home" is almost relieving for Louis. His legs are sore and his eyes are lethargic, and all he really wants to do is have a shower before dinner time then knock himself out for a well deserved sleep. The trip back to the hotel is uneventful, and again, him and Harry take separate elevators to their room. Louis arrives before him, so he enters the room and sits down onto his bed, reaching over to find the TV remote to switch it on and break the silence.

Harry enters. The rustle of plastic bags is noisy against Harry's legs as he walks to his bed. He sets down the bags; there's plenty. Looks like Harry had a good time.

"Hi," Harry says from the other side of the bed. "Saw you looking at me on the track today."

"Your ugly deer galloping technique was hard to miss," Louis replies, snickering after. Harry frowns at him, reaching into his collection of bags to make even more noise. "New pair of kicks?"

"I wish," Harry says. "Bought so much shit to hide the fact I bought a packet of condoms."

So he did buy them, as promised. Louis can't stop reminding himself that Harry fucks other people too. This box is probably going to be used with future people. Not just him.