Still deep in thought, Harry didn't notice Louis, now out of the dog park and walking the dogs toward him until the animals were only a few feet away.
He jumped back. Blackjack, the lumbering Lab, strained toward him at the end of the leash, tail wagging, mouth open as if he was smiling, and panting happily, pink tongue and all. Harry's heart jumped into his throat, and it was all he could do not to start running. Instead, he walked away as quickly as he could manage with his soreness, trying to ignore the agony from last night's work-out.
Well, at least the dogs were taking his mind off Brooke and her question about them being gay, reflected Louis. It was nearing the limit of his capacity to even look at Harry after that experience. He hoped to God he never ran into Brooke again.
Keeping the dogs well behind Harry, who kept casting timid glances over his shoulder, Louis returned the dogs to their homes, with Harry always waiting on the far side of the owner's yard. But there was progress. Harry was getting much closer to the dogs than he had in the past. Louis had visions of Harry going with him, walking beside him, enjoying the day, talking and keeping him company. Maybe some day.
"You yelled at me about gettin' a battery for me Rover!" Harry complained, a resentful look on his face.
"You're a hypocrite!" He was busy examining Louis' tires.
Louis whirled around, alarmed that Harry would have such an outburst.
"What?"
Then he saw Harry studying his tires. Oh well; no way around this. Bald tires spoke for themselves.
"Hey, just because I got on your ass about your battery, that's no bloody reason to call me a hypocrite!" Louis was on the defensive, because it was second nature to him. Besides, he didn't like to be called names.
"But you are!" Harry's bright green eyes were stormy. "If I'd only known you had bald tires, I could have defended meself. I wouldn't have felt like such a wanker."
"I didn't mean to make you feel like that. I was only worried about you."
Harry pouted slightly.
Looking to show Harry he was sorry without actually having to say it, Louis thought he'd make an offer, making it sound a little bit like a plea.
"Okay, how about this. Will you go with me in the mornin' to get some tires?" he asked, hoping to wipe that pitiful look off Harry's beautiful face. Harry had been created to smile, not brood. Louis considered it a complete waste when Harry didn't at least grin a little. A few crumbs provided by those dimples took the edge off his hunger, made his heart lighten. He was getting entirely too fond of him.
In the morning, they drove to the tire shop, Harry following Louis in the Rover. The place was very busy, and they were told it would be a few hours, so they took off in the Rover to see what might occupy them for a while. Going anywhere with Harry was an adventure. He could make the dreariest of errands seem like a rare kind of fun.
They approached an intersection and the light was red. There was a very attractive young guy waiting to cross the street. He was nicely dressed too. Louis carefully watched Harry out of his peripheral vision. Harry looked the guy over briefly, but then his eyes came right back to Louis' own eyes. Well, Louis kind of liked that. But then, it could be that Harry wasn't interested in guys in general. He hadn't asked Harry if he was asexual. It wouldn't be appropriate to bring it up though, unless the conversation had already been on that subject. Plus, it might make Harry suspicious.
Harry began to go on about Louis' bedroom again—an almost daily occurrence.
"I don't feel right stayin' in your bedroom. Can't we at least divide it equally?"
What? Louis misunderstood at first. He thought Harry meant they should both be in there.
"You know, like, um, I can use it half the time, and you use it half the time?"
Oh. Louis wasn't sure why he felt the tiniest prick of disappointment. Why should he feel that way? Even if they put another bed in there, it would feel too intimate. It would look suspicious to others. Yeah, as if anyone ever visited, Louis thought, his inner dialog heavily laced with sarcasm.
"Since we're puttin' you on the lease, I think we should think about gettin' an apartment, in the same buildin' of course, with two bedrooms," Louis was thinking aloud.
"I'm thinkin' that's what we'll have to do. I don't know if your landlord will let two people stay in a one bedroom, would he?"
"Good point. You may be right."
"When are we gonna see your landlord?"
"Might as well do it tonight," Louis replied with a sigh. "Oh, and by the way. Me landlord isn't as nice as yours was."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's . . . " Louis tried to think of a way to describe the man.
"He's not very friendly. He's brusque, I guess you could say."
Harry didn't know how to respond to that. So they dropped the subject for the moment. They went to the mall to window shop while they waited for Louis' tires to be installed. Harry pointed out things to Louis that he admired from the moment they entered the mall. He took an interest in things that Louis probably wouldn't have even noticed. Harry was certainly observant.
Harry found shelves of Furbies in one store, and was exclaiming about all the different colors, and explaining to Louis about how they talked and interacted with each other. Some had female voices and others had male voices. Louis found them slightly creepy, but he appeased Harry by smiling at their funny mechanical vocalizations. Before long, Harry had every one the Furbies talking and laughing and dancing in place, and the cashier was giving them the stink eye. Then some of the furry things began to complain about being sleepy, and some were actually snoring. Others were shouting, "Boring!" The noise was deafening, and Louis had the strongest urge to cover his ears with his hands.
Louis couldn't help but notice people of both sexes staring at Harry. Even with all the Furby noise, Harry was the main attraction. If smiles could light up a room, Harry's could light up the desert at night. His smiles were capable of stopping hearts. And he was passing them out freely. Louis suspected a few people must have had palpitations from the way they seemed unable to catch their breaths. Harry, as usual, was oblivious to the minor uproar he was causing. More people crowded into the shop where they were, initially attracted by all the noise, but when they didn't leave, Louis discovered that many of them were lingering so they could ogle Harry.
"Come on, let's go to the chocolate shop," he proposed. He literally had to drag Harry out of the shop, actually feeling rather proud that Harry, the one everyone seemed to want to gawk at, was with him.
Harry was all for the chocolate. Diet be damned today—they got a full pound of the stuff to take home, each nibbling on a chunk as they made their way through the rest of the mall.
"Dark chocolate is the healthiest," claimed Harry.
"Hell, it's chocolate. Don't ruin this moment. Just enjoy it."
They took the lift to the second floor, and shortly after that, went back down . . . and up again. Harry had held on to certain elements of his inner child that he didn't seem particularly ready to let go of, and Louis was still very young at heart himself, so he didn't mind all the trips up and down. Making Harry happy was a joy in and of itself. And when Harry saw Louis smiling at his antics, he got all the happier.
They picked up the Mustang some hours later, laden with shopping bags of clothes, books, odd and ends, and of course, the chocolate, which Harry guarded diligently, keeping it tucked under his arm. He would gladly dole it out to Louis, but he didn't want it stolen. It made Louis smile yet again because it was never the expense of an item Harry held so dear—in this case it was the sensual delight it brought him when he tasted it on his tongue, rolled it around in his mouth, chewed it and swallowed. Louis tried not to watch, but he could tell that with Harry, the forbidden treat was almost erotically delicious, and the satisfied little sounds he made reminded Louis of things he shouldn't be thinking about.
It was Saturday, and Louis wasn't walking dogs today, so they had the afternoon to while away.
"I'll fix lasagna for dinner tonight," announced Harry.
"Healthy lasagna, or regular lasagna?" Louis asked suspiciously.
"I'll just add a little soy meat along with the ground beef, low fat cheese and whole grain lasagna noodles, along with a great salad. You'll like it, I promise."
And he did. Louis couldn't taste any difference between Harry's healthy lasagna, and the type he was used to eating. He was duly impressed. When the dishes were done, they went to see Louis' landlord.
Mr. Dawson, an ex-marine who was always clean shaven, had a buzz cut, and a no-nonsense attitude, invited Louis and Harry inside. As they sat on Mr. Dawson's couch, Louis explained the situation, being extra careful to cut right to the chase, and not waste this man's time, because Mr. Dawson was forever impatient and intolerant as far as listening to some drawn out story that he apparently didn't have time for. Louis claimed he wanted a roommate to cut his costs. The landlord didn't have to know that Louis simply wanted Harry as a roommate, and didn't have to resort to it for financial reasons. But he figured it was best to present it that way.
Mr. Dawson looked at them both in turns, kind of like Brooke had done, but you couldn't read a thing on his face. He did look like he disapproved, but then, Louis had never seen him look any other way. The expression seemed to be etched in his face permanently. The man had no sense of humor, and really not much personality either. He was disciplined and by the book. There was no warmth to him. But he was a good landlord, and had responded quickly and efficiently to any problem Louis had had with the apartment, and he never stalled when it came to having things fixed.
But Louis was filled with cold dread. He really did want to stay in this apartment building. He didn't want to go elsewhere. Who knows what kind of landlord he could end up with?
Louis also briefly wondered if Mr. Dawson could somehow see that he, Louis, was gay, even though Louis acted mostly like any other guy. Louis had known a few guys who had acted as if they must be gay, but had been straight as arrows, so his guilty imagination must be running wild. Mr. Dawson wouldn't be able to discern if he was straight or gay any more than anyone else could. Louis' practical side kept telling him that, but Mr. Dawson's manner had him disturbed.
Looking at Harry through Mr. Dawson's eyes, Louis could see how the older man might get the impression that Harry was wild, what with the long hair. He might be afraid Harry was a partier. But Harry was being himself—smiling almost non-stop and being incredibly polite. Hopefully winning the older man over like he did with almost everyone.
There was a lot of silence going on as Mr. Dawson pondered the situation. He leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers behind his neck, as if contemplating whether or not he should grant their wish.
"You'd want a two bedroom, I assume," he said rather stiffly.
Louis felt like belting out, "Of course we want a two bedroom! Why would we want to stay in a one bedroom?" But he controlled himself admirably.
"Yes, that's right."
"Well," Mr. Dawson fiddled with his pen that he had poised over Louis' rental agreement in a neat file that included all his rental agreements, Louis assumed. "I'll have to make out a new one of these," he grumbled as if it was the biggest imposition in the world. Again, he examined both the younger men's faces as if he was going to drag a confession out of them if it killed him.
Louis suddenly realized that his fear that Mr. Dawson might think they were gay was not entirely unfounded. The man seemed to have x-ray eyes, and he looked to be wondering if he should allow Louis to continue to rent in his building; Harry in turn was feeling like the man was judging him, picking him apart. Just as Louis was convinced Mr. Dawson was going to say something about not renting to gays or long-hairs, the man spoke up.
"Well . . . I guess we can do that. I do have a two bedroom coming up for rent in two weeks. The tenants will be moving out," Mr. Dawson looked like he was wondering if he'd made a grave mistake. But Louis was a good tenant, and those weren't found in abundance anymore. Louis decided It was likely Harry's long hair was putting him on edge and making him hesitant. After all, he was a scrupulous ex-Marine, and naturally suspicious.
"That would be fine with us," Louis shot Harry a quick glance to be sure he was agreeable with that. Harry was nodding in his enthusiastic way.
Turned out the rent would only be going up one hundred per month. That meant only fifty dollars additional for each of them. They would hardly notice the difference, and they'd each have a bedroom, and more space too.
After having Harry fill out the paperwork that was required, Mr. Dawson suggested they take a look at the unit.
He called the current tenants and asked if he could show the apartment. They were fine with it, so Harry and Louis got to view their new future home. A bigger kitchen, same size living room, and two roomy bedrooms and the fact that it had two bathrooms had been unexpected, but very welcome. Sharing a bathroom had not been very convenient, even though Harry was careful to stay out of Louis' way as much as possible.
"Now I can take two hour long bubble baths!" Harry joked. Mr. Dawson didn't see the humor in that at all, and he cast a stern look Louis' way.
"Harry, cool it," said Louis in a low enough voice that the others couldn't hear.
They signed the rental agreement afterward, back at Mr. Dawson's apartment. Louis signed first.
"Tomlinson," said Harry thoughtfully. "Funny, I hadn't even known your last name!" Louis ignored him, as Mr. Dawson must think they were out of their minds. Sharing an apartment and not even knowing each other's last names for God's sake! Louis smiled though, when Harry signed his surname. Styles. It couldn't fit Harry more perfectly. A stylish name for a stylish man.
Upon leaving, Mr. Dawson admonished them as they crossed the threshold of his apartment to the outdoors. "And no loud parties!"
"No need to worry about that. Won't happen," Louis assured him. So . . . looked like he was right. The landlord was afraid Harry would be a troublemaker just because of the way he looked.
When they arrived back at Louis' apartment, Harry was a little shook. "That guy kinda creeped me out," he admitted to Louis.
"Ah, don't flip about it. He's strict, regimented, and still a Marine at heart. I don't think he tries to appear intimidating. It's just who he is," he explained.
"No wife?" asked Harry.
"No. But think about it . . .what woman would put up with him?"
"That's not nice."
"What you said wasn't nice either," Louis reminded him.
"I just said he creeped me out, yeah?"
"Okay, so you didn't actively put him down, but when someone creeps you out, it's not exactly a compliment."
"Okay, touche."
Just then Louis' phone rang. It was Shortcake's owner. Shortcake was the fox terrier that Louis had had to inform the owners about the dog being too aggressive, and would have to be walked separately, at an increased fee, or Louis couldn't walk him any longer.
The man was much more mild this time; almost apologetic, explaining that he didn't want anyone else walking Shortcake, as no one could handle him as confidently as Louis, and his wife was ready to kill him for firing Louis.
"I'll pay fifty for you to walk him alone," the man finished, his wife throwing out snarky remarks to her husband about how he never should have turned Louis loose in the first place. The man was pretty obviously being hounded by her. He seemed more unnerved every time she made a castigating remark. She had upbraided her husband so many times by the time they got off the phone that Louis almost pitied him.
Well, this meant an extra hour of work, but Louis' schedule was light anyway, so he had accepted.
"I bloody need more chocolate," Louis lamented the moment he was off the phone, inching toward the door as if to leave.
"What? We bought a pound of it!" Harry countered.
"Hot chocolate. It's still a bit nippy, yeah?"
"Well, it does sound good, now that you mention it. With marshmallows."
"Marshmallows, right. Okay, to the store we go." Louis patted his pocket. Oh, me wallet isn't in these pants."
"Where is it? I'll go get it," Harry offered.
"Thanks. It's in the bedroom, in me jeans that're thrown over the chair."
Harry rushed into the bedroom, spied Louis' jeans and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. As he turned to take it out to the living room, a piece of paper came with it, fluttering to the floor. Harry automatically picked it up, but then, seeing writing on it, couldn't resist looking at it as he unfolded it.
It was a bank deposit slip. On the back, the name "Brooke" was written, along with a phone number.
Oh boy. So Louis had gotten Brooke's phone number! So he really did like Brooke, even though he'd essentially told Harry she wasn't his type.
Harry felt a pang of hurt that laid heavy in his chest. This wasn't a good way to start out a friendship/roommate relationship. Louis was already lying to him.
But why should it matter to him if Louis was interested in Brooke? He would much rather Louis not lie, but it was none of his business if Louis wanted to date Brooke—or whatever it was he wanted to do with her.
Now, that thought left more than a pang. This one stabbed with a fierceness that left Harry flustered and bewildered.
So . . . it looked like there was no longer any doubt. It sure looked to him like Louis was straight.
