"The trouble with this is . . . I hadn't counted on it being like this," Louis continued to try to explain. "I should never have agreed to the contest in the first place." His eyes looked far away as he focused on some obscure corner of her bathroom.
Her heart dropped. But just as quickly it was replaced with a feeling of slight resentment. He'd already kissed her with a great deal of passion, and now he was saying he shouldn't have agreed to be the "prize" in the contest? How was she supposed to take that? Talk about mixed messages. Next to Harry, what was she? Chopped liver? If that didn't make a woman feel inadequate . . .
Tawny's reflections reminded her that she had seen that fiercely possessive look on Harry's face enough times to know that Harry considered Louis his, and his only. But if Louis dated other girls, how was this that much different? Concurrently, she felt as if she was stealing Louis from Harry. Her feelings were all over the board, her emotions conflicting and baffling.
"I opened me big mouth again, and the words came out wrong," he said a minute later, a grunt of disdain for himself in his throat, probably sensing her disquiet. "I meant I shouldn't have entered the contest because I didn't know how much I was gonna like you. I figured you'd just be another girl . . . but the trouble is, you aren't."
If that was meant as a compliment, it made her feel a little better. Still, she knew he was making the assumption that she knew he would always love Harry above anyone else. That was a given, and she could accept it.
Still, she didn't know how to respond to his statement, so she kept quiet. They had taken their shoes off and tucked them neatly into a corner, and seeing them now reminded Tawny of the picture she'd seen of Harry's gold boots, nestled right up flush with Louis' Vans, outside their shared dressing room. It had made her heart flutter and her breath catch.
"Penny for your thoughts," he said when he spied her wistful smile. She told him exactly what she'd been thinking.
"You know," he said as he grinned impishly. "You have to watch every little thing you do when you're in the spotlight. That's how the fans found out we shared a dressing room. They never miss a thing. That picture caused all kinds of speculation. We got separate dressing rooms right away, but the damage was done- the word was already out."
The hidden truth between Harry and Louis wasn't as hidden as they had thought it was, because Tawny had picked up on it early on—she just hadn't been absolutely sure. She wondered how many of the Larry videos Louis had actually seen. Not many, she guessed. Maybe that was a good thing, as he probably would have been very disturbed, had he known how obvious they really were. That hidden truth was beautiful yet sad at the same time.
"Will you forgive me for treating this "date" so casually?" he asked. "I mean, before I actually met you, I was kind of cavalier and dismissive about it."
"No need to apologize, but I have to say . . . I kind of envy Harry." Tawny realized what an understatement she'd just made.
"Thank you," he responded. "But I really expected Harry to be picked by the winner. So much so that I thought there had been a mistake. Everyone seems to feel as I do about Harry. I can't tell you how much competition there is for him. So for you to say you envy him, really makes me feel exceptional . . . at least, to you."
He had the funniest way of making her sigh with gratification, a sort of felicity.
"You're the leader of the group, remember. The orchestrator, in a sense. The inspiration, and the motivator. Stop throwing shade at yourself."
"Well, just keep in mind," he suggested, "that every one of us has their merits and makes their own contributions to the band. Liam is the grounded Daddy Direction, and that's a massive responsibility and accomplishment, and it's on a daily basis. Niall keeps our spirits forever lifted with his sanguine attitude. And Harry . . . well, Harry embodies all the best of 1D. There isn't a thing he does that isn't generous and sincere, and usually without any premeditation. It's all natural, just the way he's wired."
A strong statement, indeed. But she knew it was true. She loved watching Louis' face when Harry was mentioned. His expression defied description every time Harry's name had popped up. He lit up like a Christmas tree. Whatever was between them was intense.
"Harry blushes a lot over compliments, and so do you. That's one reason I was so captivated by you," confessed Louis.
For some reason, all this talk about Harry didn't bother Tawny, and that shocked the hell out of her. She couldn't seem to know enough, or hear enough. She'd fallen in love with their love. Louis was now being open with her. That inspired great admiration for him. She hoped the best for them, whatever might or might not happen tonight.
As they sat side by side she gazed at his tattoos, thought about all the intricate ink that illustrated how his and Harry's eerily matched up. Really not so eerie—definitely pre-planned. Ship and compass, anchor and rope, cage and bird. Their tattoos told a very explicit story. You only had to pay attention.
Louis rounded on her just then, pressing her against the wall, dying to taste her lips. The feeling was just the same as it had been in the living room, and if possible, the intensity had increased. His warmth was seeping into her as his lips moved over hers insistently. The notion crossed her mind to push him away, tell him that she knew . . . she knew he was in love with Harry, and although he had not openly admitted it yet, it was brazenly flagrant. For some reason, it was crucial that she hear it from his own lips.
She didn't, however, possess the willpower to push him away or to reject him on the grounds he was in love with Harry. She'd won the drawing, fair and square, he had agreed to it, in love with Harry or not, and here they were. If it weren't her, it would have been someone else with him tonight.
The kiss became increasingly heated, his lips covering hers and his tongue entering her mouth for the first time. Gently, slowly. He'd taken it by degrees, in tiny increments, never pressuring, governing himself according to her response. The gentle permission he sought was affectionate, impassioned, sensitive. Everything she had always craved, but had never found.
Tawny found herself wanting more and more. She was never satisfied; even though he kissed her in very long episodes, she yearned for more. She knew how much he had to give. Intuition told her, and she wanted a sample . . . no, much more than a sample of it.
His mouth devouring hers, her head was floating in the clouds, disconnected from her body. She didn't even know if she could process his kind of passion. She was damp now, had been for some time. Just kissing him was all that was needed.
Heated male appreciation stared at her when their lips came apart. He was spearing her with that look again.
"You really are bi, aren't you?"
He answered without delay. "Yes, and sometimes I wonder if it's more a curse than a blessing," and this was said sardonically, an overtone of resentment peppering his words. She wondered if he ever lay awake at night, mulling over his affliction. It had to be challenging. Then he softened. "As you can surely tell by now, I'm very into you."
Louis had learned a long time ago not to go into a blind situation unprepared. But that's just what he'd done tonight. It caused a gnawing in his chest. The other girls he went out with were just for show, and they meant nothing to him. But Tawny—well, she could possibly prove to be divergent. That caused his head to spin in bemusement.
"We need to slow down again. If you keep kissing me like that, I'll end up taking you forcefully," she said, laughing, and he laughed too. It was an easy laugh, the tension mostly gone.
"Glad to know the feeling is mutual," Louis' eyes got that dazed look, and she wondered if he was remembering how Harry had said in that quick interview that his first crush had been Louis, and when asked how Louis felt about it, had said, "Mutual, we've discussed it." Louis probably still had no idea just how much she really knew.
"Tell me more about you and Harry." The arousal hung heavy in the air, and it was dawning on Louis that they not only desired each other, but the thought of Harry was adding to it. They both knew it. Louis had noted early on that she seemed most eager to hear as much as possible about Harry and himself. And now that they were away from the cameras, he was happy to oblige.
He took a deep breath and let out a long, shuddering sigh. "Harry . . . how do I even begin?"
Then his eyes twinkled. "Ah, you're so kinky. Wanting to know details about me and Harry."
"Not about that, just stuff in general. How your relationship came about . . ." Uh-oh. She was going to give away how stuck she really was on their romance. He might think she was obsessed or something. She decided she'd better lighten up.
Louis didn't seem to mind however. "Well, Harry told me his let his guard down and then he felt defenseless. Ever listen to the song "If I Could Fly?" She nodded. "It was just like that. He was vulnerable and had to put his trust in me."
"Wow! That is one emotional song!" She wasn't stupid, and he knew it. She knew he was telling her, in a roundabout way, that indeed, he and Harry were very much in love. The words to that song could not be taken any other way. It was full of hurt as well as hope.
"Liam cried the first time he heard it played back." Louis bowed his head slightly, as if acknowledging the truth inwardly, with reverence. "Harry and I had had a pretty serious spat at one time, and that's when he wrote the song. He thought there was a chance it was over."
"Well, it's beautiful. The emotion in it is just . . . explosive. What else?" It seemed her curiosity had no limits.
She squealed as he pulled her into his lap.
"Harry has an abundance of charm, and he seduced me, literally seduced me."
Oh my God.
Okay, so he already had teased her about being kinky, even though it had been said mostly in jest, so she tried to hide how this last line had affected her. It didn't work. Louis was onto her, and readied himself to pour on more specifics.
"He did?" she asked, wide-eyed, not able to conceal her fascination for long.
"Yeah, he was so stealthy about it. Innocent and stealthy aren't supposed to go together, but Harry did a brilliant job of it. Before I knew it, I'd given in to him, and we hadn't even touched each other yet. That's how hard he grabbed onto me heart.
"Harry also loves it when I call him 'bad boy.' I did that on stage once, no microphone, and I thought he was gonna come undone. We teased each other in those days, before management started controlling us. We'd get each other all worked up for later, after the concert. There's something very heady about being on stage in front of sometimes as many as fifty thousand people, and letting the sexual tension build gradually, encouraging it, luxuriating in it, pushing the limits of being discovered. There's only so much you can do, and it's extremely stimulating."
He went on, knowing she was eating it up. "Harry doesn't like swearing or smoking, and I do lots of both. But because it's me, it's different, somehow, I guess. He makes me feel special. He smells so good. Kind of like oranges and cinnamon, and his hair . . . the scent of his hair could cause me to have an orgasm, and it's not his shampoo—it's just Harry."
Tawny gasped at his use of the word orgasm, and Louis smiled. "I knew that would wake you up."
"Do I look like I need waking up?" she asked. She knew he had to be aware how riveted she was to what he was telling her.
"No, I guess you don't. You're quite taken with the thought of the two of us together, aren't you?"
Tawny blushed and fidgeted slightly. She felt a little dirty, and definitely sheepish. "Yes, and it's really embarrassing. I'm normally not 'into' guys in a relationship. It's just you two. I can't figure it out except that the romance factor really makes a difference. You know what? I couldn't think of a word that described how you two look at each other, and I finally figured it out, It's the softness . . ."
"Yes, we treat each other as lovers," he said quietly. Did he mean they actually were lovers, or still in the flirting stage? Or maybe stuck in the flirting stage. But again, she wasn't naïve enough to think there was nothing more than flirting. Hell, she didn't know what to think at this point.
His devilish look as his eyes scanned her again aroused her. She still sat on his lap, his skinny jeans being very tight as they always were, and it allowed her to feel the shape of his lap and . . . oh dear. Just the thin material of her dress and his skinny jeans between them was not enough, and yet too much. He didn't seem bothered by it though. He handled it admirably. He continued to act natural and confident.
More kissing, the heat index went up even more, and the two of them were breathing raggedly in no time.
How was she going to come out of this bliss still alive?
"Harry lets me have me way with him," he was speaking in a very low, almost gruff tone, exciting them both. He knew just what he was doing. "He likes me take-charge attitude."
That did it. Her imagination had run amok. She couldn't stand to listen to any more. She'd gotten just what she'd asked for. Clarification. There was no way they weren't lovers. All doubt had dissolved.
Raw, raging desire was overtaking Tawny. Louis growled low and menacingly at the most intense moments as they kissed, he made her toes curl, and then he'd back off. She was feeling terribly faint with desire. He was quite accomplished with seduction, and she had no doubt who had tutored him.
"I remember you sitting on a couch with Harry when you let your head fall back over the back of the couch, then looked at him sideways in a coy way. It was a wonderfully flirty move, and his eyes on you were just adoring. You looked like you were a lioness, purring for the attention of the lion."
"Yes, I felt just like that too. And Harry certainly has enough mane to be a lion. And luckily that moment was captured in a photo. We get so into each other that we find we aren't aware of anyone else in the room or anywhere around us. Even cameras rolling. I have that photo beside me bed, on the end table."
He went on. "It's overwhelming, how strongly we feel. It's so bloody hard to describe. Well, hard in more than one way," his eyes danced with bedevilment.
She had to laugh, instead of slapping him like she probably should have done. But for the irrational, out of control desire that was right under the surface, it was all in fun, and they were both trying to deny the closeness they were developing. A losing battle. She knew though, through all of this, that in no way would she ever compete with Harry in Louis' heart. And that was okay.
He was putting on that self-asserting male attitude of his that she found irresistible, despite how exasperating it could be. He was a spitfire in the emotional category, and she could only imagine how much of a handful he was yet to become. Oh . . . she should be so lucky!
"For some reason, the song 'No Control' comes to mind," she said with a smile. "Is it like that in reality between you and Harry? I mean, your interaction is so . . . what is the word again . . . soft. Yes, soft. Do you two get as, well, out of control as the song suggests?" She waited for him to shut down again as he had in the living room, and avoid the question.
But he didn't. Now they were down to the nitty gritty. Louis would either admit the extent of his relationship with Harry, or he wouldn't.
"Where do you think I got the inspiration for that song?"
So there it was. Tawny was delighted. She finally had her answer, and it was not a half-ass answer either. It was a full come clean, out of the closet statement.
"And," he said pointedly. "The song only covers the sexual side of it, not the love. The love is what makes the rest of it so special."
She stifled a gasp. She'd gotten even more of a confession than she'd anticipated. He'd also just confessed that he was in love with Harry. She felt so special, that he would confide in her, and trust her with the information. She smiled and hugged him.
"Did you know I wrote the song 'Home' for Harry after he wrote 'If I Could Fly' for me?" Louis seemed to be comfortable telling her these things, so she was not about to stop his elaboration.
"No, I know a lot, but that, I didn't know. That's about as romantic as it gets. But . . . I don't know if we should be here . . . like this," Tawny was feeling guilty again, sitting on his lap.
He knew what she was concerned about. "Well, Harry knows all about it, of course. And he gave me his blessing. He told me that he loves me so much that he's willing to share me if necessary."
This time the gasp escaped Tawny's mouth before she could swallow it. Harry really was precious, and apparently so hopelessly in love that he'd willingly let Louis out of his clutches for tonight. She still had so many questions, and even more affection for this couple than she'd had before.
"I noticed you're more subtle in public, and Harry is a dead giveaway," she offered.
"Oh, he's shameless sometimes. And a little too naïve about the cameras, I think. But I don't reject him, ever, because it's actually impossible to reject Harry. And I couldn't hurt him even if I could resist him."
"More has been captured than I think he knows," Tawny gave her input carefully. "Those Youtuber's zoom in on everything the two of you do. Even those very subtle brushes against each other's hands. Everything." She wanted him to have some idea so it wouldn't continue to cause trouble with their management.
Louis shook his head slightly. "I'm scared to find out. There were many, many incidents." At least he realized the problem was potentially serious.
When he began kissing her again, his mouth was the sweetest of tortures. He didn't ask silent permission now—he just took.
"I think it's sexy," he said softly as he lifted his lips from hers. "Sexy that you are so accepting, and that you think this thing of mine with Harry is erotic. You know, I didn't even think we'd end up kissing tonight. And I was resigned to that," he revealed.
"Maybe even more surprising, I was thinking the same thing. I thought we'd just talk, eat, drink, have a good time, and then you'd leave in the morning, and hopefully, I would have made a new friend who would call me every once in a while, just to talk," she admitted. "Just that much would have made me very happy."
"Well, unlike the others, Tawny, you're not a girl. You're a woman, and you're mature. It's so refreshing for me not to have to listen to endless giggles, squeals and pleas for autographs. You have substance. You and I are really connecting."
Again, Tawny felt the rasp of their clothing between them. She thought she felt him pulsing against her. On his lap the way she was, it was not difficult to feel every curve and ridge of his body where they were touching.
On Louis' part, the pressure she put on his lap from her body weight was bad enough, but she kept shifting every time she laughed or re-balanced herself. His erection was crying out for release, or at least some attention. But alas, he was used to Harry's teasing. Harry loved to draw things out and tantalize him. And here he was now, enduring more of the same thing. Well, it was true that Louis had done his share of teasing tonight too.
"I'm glad now, that I decided not to pick Harry," she admitted. Louis perked up.
"You were thinking of picking Harry?"
"Yeah, I had to weigh the pros and cons. I really wanted to pick you, but I did feel Harry might be a better match."
"Oh, care to tell me why?"
"Well, he's been known to date older women, of course, and also, he's quieter than you, so humble and calm." She realized she'd inadvertently made Louis look bad.
"I didn't mean it that way. It sounded like you're obnoxious, which you're not," she tried to amend. "It was just that you are so outspoken, outgoing, and confident that I thought you might really intimidate me."
"And do I?" he asked immediately, eyebrows raised and mouth in a straight line, kind of halfway making one of his funny faces, probably to try to put her at ease, she supposed.
"No, you don't. Once I got to know you a little bit, I realized I'd made the right decision after all."
There are all kinds of silences. Some are awkward and uncomfortable, some are cautious, and some are easy and mellow. This one was the latter. They just sat side by side, each immersed in his or her own ruminations, Louis' arm draped over her shoulder.
"I'm gonna go get another glass of champagne. Want one too? Finish that bottle off?" he asked.
"Sure," she smiled as he scampered from the room—not really running, but not walking either, looking quick and carefree as he so often did.
When he came back in with two filled glasses, he smirked slightly. "The people watching those cameras are probably pissed off as hell. I'm a devious little bastard."
She laughed.
"Just imagine, we both disappear into the bathroom, then you come out and get some champagne and go back in. Then, later, I come out and do the same thing. Yeah, they're no doubt pissed off. No action to be seen, ha!"
Louis flipped his head slightly to get his lustrous, clean hair, free of product, out of his eyes. She saw the devilish impudence in his eyes when he thought about pulling one over on NBC. Once again, what a spitfire he was!
Her attention went again to his hair. She really liked it in its natural state. When she reached up to touch it, the softness felt like silky gossamer between her fingers. He soaked up the strokes, clearly used to affection, and hooked on it as well.
She'd impatiently put her own hair back up in the clip for the second time. Strange and unusual for it to slip out twice like that. Louis reached over and unclipped it. This simple gesture was made sensual by the tenderness and fluidity of his fingers. "Please leave this out," he asked in such a sweet way that there was no arguing the point. Then she realized what had been happening.
"Have you been unclipping it?"
He bowed his head as if in shame. "Yes. I love it down. Guilty as charged."
"But I didn't even feel you do it!"
"I had hoped you were so into the kissing that you didn't take notice." He was right—she went into a virtual trance when he kissed her.
As they sipped their champagne, she rotated her waist to look into his eyes, calling on her guts to give her the valor to ask him something that had been on her mind. "Is it okay if I ask you something . . . personal?"
"Anything. Be me guest," he responded, apparently no longer the least leery of anything she might inquire about.
She'd made up her mind earlier that she wouldn't hesitate or hold back. Tonight was going to be too short as it was. Nervous or not, she had to go through with it and ask him.
"Did you . . . did Harry . . . I mean, did you two 'Love each other Goodbye' this morning?"
Louis bent over at the waist to laugh. When he caught his breath, he stared at her with high regard. "So I'm not the only clever one usin' lyrics 'round here, yeah?" he murmured. "Clever lass, you are."
He took a long swallow of his champagne and let the air of a sigh out between his teeth.
"And aye . . . we did."
