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The first thing Harry does when he, Niall, and Zayn move into their new flat is look up where he can find the nearest gym. The second thing he does is take a nap, because moving is exhausting and he had to drag a lot of heavy things up a lot of narrow flights of stairs. It must have been quite the nap, because now it’s three months later and the first time Harry has even stepped into One Mode Athletics. It’s not like Harry doesn’t love working out-- he does. Things just kept coming up, like coursework and birthdays and lunch. But he’s here now and even managed to drag along Niall, who isn’t usually one for indoor exercise on machines.
They’re standing at reception, Harry signing his name on a registration form while the guy at the front desk--“I’m Liam, I’m a personal trainer here but work the front desk sometimes when we don’t have a receptionist, for some reason we can’t seem to hold on to one”--rattles off a list of classes available at the gym, when Harry sees him.
He’s unlocking the door to one of the studios where classes are held, so at first Harry only sees the curved lines of his back and legs, his shaggy hair pulled back in a soft headband. Then he turns his head towards them and it’s all sharp cheekbones and blue blue eyes and it’s like time speeds up and slows down all at once. Harry could swear the boy (man? god?) stops and locks eyes with him for a moment, but is all too quickly distracted by the gaggle of giggly middle-aged women eagerly moving into the studio.
“What class is that?” Harry asks, probably interrupting Front Desk Liam and not really caring about it.
“Oh, the one that’s just going in? That’s Louis’ jazz fit class, the one I mentioned earlier? It’s kind of a combination of jazz dance and aerobics and general fitness. You interested?”
Niall instantly bursts out laughing. “No way Harry could do a class like that mate, you should see him on the dance floor, it’s like a baby deer with a sugar rush...”
“Can I take it now?”
Niall looks at Harry suspiciously as Liam turns into a human puppy in the face of Harry’s eagerness. “It officially starts in five, as long as you’re properly dressed you’re good to go! You want to join too, mate?”
Harry immediately turns his strongest puppy dog eyes on Niall, even though he suspects Niall's long been immune, because there’s no way he’s going to get through class with the fittest instructor to ever exist without his support. Niall sighs good-naturedly and pulls out his wallet.
“Fine, fine, I’ll try it, you fucker. Probably be a laugh, yeah?” Harry beams.
Once everything’s paid and sorted, Front Desk Liam pushes them into the classroom himself with an upbeat “here are two more for you, Tommo!” before closing the door behind them. The instructor turns to them with a warm smile, his blue eyes crinkling up at the edges. Harry wants to write a song about him.
“Hello, new victims! Welcome to jazz fit. I’m Louis,” he says, bounding towards them. Harry is just constructing an appropriately cute greeting in his head, probably "Hi my name is Harry," when Louis pulls him into a friendly hug. Harry is very impressed with his own arms, as they manage to hug back and not do anything weird or awkward at all. The hug seems to end as quickly as it begins, leaving Harry introducing himself to empty air while Louis goes to hug Niall, who introduces himself during the hug like the competent human being he is.
“Sorry mate, you said you’re Harry?” Louis asks, turning his warm smile on Harry again.
“Yes, like the prince. Or the wizard. Whichever you like.”
“Wizard, eh? You magic on the dance floor then?” Louis winks. Harry manages not to faint.
“Only because I’m so supernaturally terrible.” This makes Louis laugh, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth adorably.
“Well, we’ll fix that, won’t we? You two might want to find a space a few rows back for today so you can follow along. Don’t worry if you’re terrible, no one is judging. Much.” Louis winks again. Harry is miraculously still standing. Louis raises his voice, going into instructor mode. “Now are you all ready to sweat?”
Harry and Niall make their way to the back middle of the room, the middle-aged women they pass eying them suspiciously. The opening chords of a Rihanna song come blasting over the speakers as Louis bounces to the front of the group, shouts “LET’S GO,” and the class begins.
Over the next hour and a half, two things become very clear to Harry.
One, he is even less coordinated than he thought he was. He’s fine for the warm up portion of the class, but once Louis starts in on actual jazz movements, things go downhill. Harry trips over his own feet, consistently goes in the wrong direction, and almost hits a (very enthusiastic) Niall in the face more than once. He focuses and puts his all into it, but it’s as if his limbs are all operating independently from one another. Louis keeps catching his eye in the mirror and smiling at him encouragingly, which is both motivating and extremely distracting.
And that’s the other thing. Two, Louis is wonderful. He’s beautiful and has a high boyish voice and a loud clear laugh. He does little shimmies between exercises to the high energy pop music playing and has the hip control of a master. He’s warm and snarky all at once, making clever cheeky comments but still ensuring everyone feels motivated and encouraged. By the time class is half over, Harry has a full fledged crush and these intense urges to hold Louis's hand and get to know him.
Harry takes his time getting ready to leave at the end of class. He pretends it’s because he’s waiting for Niall, who is flirting shamelessly with the pretty girl nearby, but really it’s because he’s hoping for a chance to talk to Louis. He doesn’t have to dawdle for long. The studio isn’t even halfway empty when Louis approaches Harry himself, a friendly smile on his face.
“Hey, it’s Harry, right?” Harry nods furiously, needing a moment before he can trust his voice, “I just wanted to tell you how well you did in class today, especially for a beginner.”
Harry blinks back at him in shock. “I was a disaster.”
“You were a massive disaster,” Louis agrees completely seriously, “but you were a disaster that tried really hard and kept going the whole time and that’s more important. I know that sounds like complete shit, but it’s true. A sign of a good student, innit?”
Harry ducks his head, smiling shyly, “Well you’re a good teacher.”
“Thanks, mate!” Louis sounds genuinely pleased. “So does that mean you’ll be coming back again then? I mean the only way to go from here is up. I could help you go from a disaster to just kind of a mess.” He grins, making sure Harry knows he’s only teasing.
Harry hesitates, but he’s no match for Louis’ blue blue eyes and genuine smile, so he just nods slowly in response. Louis pumps his fist in the air. “You won’t regret it, I promise! You’ll get better, yeah?”
Harry nods again, faster this time. He can get through this for another hour and a half with Louis. He might be terrible, but it’s just one more class. Just one more.
And then Louis hugs him.
“You did what?”
Harry blushes, feeling Zayn’s judgment even through the laptop screen. “I signed up for six month worth of twice a week jazz fit classes at the gym?”
The judgment intensifies. Harry thinks he’s perfectly justified in blaming Zayn for this. He, Niall, and Zayn have always managed to avoid making bad decisions because since there’s three of them, whoever was about to make the bad decision was easily outvoted. Harry can hardly be expected to make non-embarrassing life choices when 1/3 of their group was off visiting family in Bradford.
“Harry, I love you bro, but you are a terrible dancer. Are you sure you want to do this? Is this just for a laugh with Niall? Because we’ve talked about spending your money on shit like that after the bouncy castle thing.”
Harry rolls his eyes. Zayn loved that bouncy castle. “No, Niall refuses to take the class with me because he says I’m just taking it so I can stare at the instructor and creepily smell his hair when he hugs me at the beginning of class.”
“And what about that is wrong?”
“None of it, it’s all true, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Zayn sighs, “You ever thought about finding, like, a less expensive way to get to know this guy?”
“You don’t understand,” Harry leans in closer to the monitor, “he came up to me after class. He told me he admired my, like, enthusiasm or something. He asked me to come again. So basically, my only choice is to show him what a good student I am. And this gives me excuses to talk to him and get to know him without looking creepy. I know this is worth it, Zayn,” Harry leans closer still, until all Zayn can see is pink mouth and curls, “we had moments.”
Zayn hangs up on him. Harry knows he doesn’t completely disapprove though, because Zayn texts him right after telling him he loves him even though he’s a sappy idiot.
Harry’s next class with Louis is on a Tuesday. He gets to the gym almost embarrassingly early, so early that he has to loiter at the front desk chatting with Liam and pretend that he doesn’t want to snap his head around every time he hears footsteps. The instructor himself emerges from the changing room about ten minutes before class is set to start, and lights up so brightly when he sees Harry that Harry swears he feels his own heart actually skip a beat.
“He returns!” Louis shouts jovially, scuttling over to the front desk. Harry blushes.
“I told you I would, didn’t I?”
“Yes but people say a lot of things they don’t mean,” Louis leans his hip against the desk and looks at Harry from under his eyelashes, suddenly going a bit shy. “I wasn’t sure if you would actually come. It’s nice to see you again.”
“I just saw you yesterday.” Liam says suddenly, making Harry jump as he pops in like a cockblocking meerkat.
“For god’s sake Liam, I was talking to Harry.” Liam blushes and Harry is sure that everyone around the desk is now a matching shade of bright red.
“Right, sorry, I’ll just uh. Go help someone over there then.” Liam shuffles around the corner of the desk, leaving Harry and Louis staring at each other in silence. They just stand there, smiling at each other, until one of the women from Louis’ class barrels into him and breaks the spell. He looks away from Harry almost apologetically--Harry hopes--to hug his excited student. When he pulls away she nearly swoons and a line of fellow middle-aged jazz fit students has seemingly materialized behind her out of nowhere. Harry stifles a giggle when he realizes he isn’t the only one in the class with a crush on Louis Tomlinson. It makes him feel a bit better to think that maybe he has the best chance out of all of them.
The class goes about as well as the one before, with Harry trying to make all of his limbs work together instead of independently of one another. He can manage the step claps and the sautes, but nearly trips over his own feet trying to do a grapevine, and can’t figure out why Louis keeps telling him he’s turning in the wrong direction. His battements are a complete disaster and he keeps whispering apologies to the women around him who he nearly kicks with his flailing limbs. When he thinks he’s almost getting them down Louis adds a bounce to the exercise and Harry loses control of his limbs all over again with the added element.
Through it all Louis is there. Bouncy, warm, encouraging, witty Louis. He keeps the energy up during class when he can feel it faltering and never misses a beat. Harry considers himself a very enthusiastic and energetic person, but he’s convinced Louis has something extra special, some kind of pixie dust he sprinkles on the class to keep them all moving. At the end of class Harry feels energized and rejuvenated even though he’s pretty sure he butchered every single exercise. Louis is talking to one of the other students when class ends, so Harry just heads for the door, a little disappointed. He has one foot out the door before he feels a tap on his shoulder, and barely has time to turn around before Louis’ arms are around him in a hug. They’re both rather sweaty, so it should be gross, but Harry is pretty sure this is in the top ten hugs of his life. Louis pulls away and coughs a little awkwardly.
“I didn’t give you one before class, and I give all of my students a hug before class, so I thought I would give you yours now.”
Harry smiles and shrugs and thanks him like it’s no big deal, really fit dance instructors make a point to hug him all the time, but he practically skips down the block on the way home. And if he replays that hug in his mind before he goes to sleep, as well as the way Louis caught his eye in the mirror during the hip swivels, no one needs to know.
Harry arrives for Saturday’s class at a more reasonable time, so he gets his hug from Louis pre-class, giving him time to turn his nose into Louis’ soft hair. The hug probably should have transferred some of Louis’ coordination and rhythm onto Harry, but the class goes much like the previous ones, although he does figure out the turns. He tries to drag his feet a little after class again to talk to Louis, but Louis's surrounded by at least three women who seem insistent on taking up as much of his time as possible. Eventually Harry has to scurry away and give in to his bladder, sending a telepathic goodbye in Louis’ direction as he goes.
It’s starting to rain when Harry finally leaves the gym, and he’s pulling up the hood of his jacket when he hears loud swearing in a familiar voice. He turns around to see Louis leaning on the hood of his car, pressing buttons on his cell phone and trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes. He jumps when Harry tentatively says his name, nearly dropping the phone when he sees who it is.
“Hey, I thought you would have gone home already.”
“Bathroom,” Harry shifts his weight from foot to foot awkwardly, “Sorry, I just--are you okay? You seem to be having a problem and it’s raining and I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m not okay,” Louis sighs dramatically, “It’s raining and my car won’t start and my cell phone is out of battery because I forgot to charge it last night and the gym’s going to be closing up soon so I can’t wait inside and I’m cold and wet and I need a shower and have I mentioned my car is shit.”
Harry laughs, surprisingly endeared by this outburst of emotion, and he blames that feeling for what he says next. “My flat’s just around the corner. If you wanted to use my phone to call and then wait there out of the rain, it would be totally cool.” Louis blinks up at him and Harry hurriedly backtracks, “I mean if you’re uncomfortable with that, that’s totally cool too. I mean this is probably really awkward and you barely know me, I could be a serial killer for all you know, but I just thought…”
Louis laughs out loud, eyes crinkling. “Calm down, Curly, that sounds great actually, thank you. And you’re far too sweet to be a serial killer,” he smiles mischievously, “but how do you know I’m not one?”
Harry ponders that for a second. “I doubt most serial killers love Beyoncé as much as you do.”
Louis laughs again, “Now that’s where you’re wrong, Harry. Everyone appreciates Beyoncé”
“It is perfect bone sawing music. Really gets you into the right rhythm.”
“Covers up all that inconvenient noise too. Great for distracting the neighbours.”
They nod at each other completely seriously before bursting into laughter. Louis pushes his fringe out his face as he laughs. It’s wet and soft and flopping over his eyes without his headband, and Harry wants to touch it. The way it’s dripping into his collarbones reminds Harry that they’re still standing in the steadily increasing rainfall, and he hastily points this out to Louis. He leads the way to his flat at a bit of a clumsy run, and they’re still giggling as they climb the stairs and Harry lets Louis into the flat.
He sets Louis’ phone to charge and lends him his phone so he can call his mechanic, then takes the time to rush around the flat and make sure it’s not a total disaster. He throws pillows onto the couch instead of the floor, brings empty glasses and half eaten bags of crisps into the kitchen, and starts to make two cups of tea. He’s standing in front of the open tea cupboard worrying that he’ll choose the wrong one when Louis walks into the kitchen holding out Harry’s phone.
“Massive thank you again, the mechanic said they’d get my car from the gym and Liam’s going to pick me up once he’s finished helping his mum with something. Oh! Are you putting on a cuppa? You don’t have to do that.”
“No no, I want to. You’re all wet and cold and mad at your car.”
Louis smiles at that and hops onto the counter, swinging his legs. “Well in that case I hope you have Yorkshire. Best tea there is. If you disagree you’ll just have to leave the gym. Sorry, I make the rules.”
Harry checks the cupboard and thanks whatever gods might be out there that Zayn’s mum had sent them a package of several varieties of tea when they had first moved in and that Yorkshire was among them. Louis spots the Manchester United calendar on the fridge and they have a spirited conversation about the team that lasts them until the tea has been made, poured, and half drunk. They migrate from the kitchen to the couch in that time, and Harry revels in the feeling of Louis’ knee knocking against his as they talk. Louis sees the Misfits DVD set sitting near the TV and nods approvingly.
“Fantastic show. I just finished watching it. Nathan’s really fit isn’t he? Nice hair.” He looks sideways at Harry, biting his lip. Harry realizes what he’s doing and blushes.
“Yeah, yeah he is.” He takes a deep breath. “A bit tall though. I like Simon. Smaller,” he turns right to Louis, “Nice eyes.” Louis smiles softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.
There’s a quiet moment, the air between them crackling, and Harry feels a shiver of anticipation. Louis opens his mouth to speak when his phone vibrates loudly from where it was charging. He smiles apologetically.
“That’ll be Liam, I told him to text me when he was here.” He goes to grab his phone and his bag while Harry brings the tea mugs to the kitchen, muttering under his breath about Liam-shaped things. When he comes back Louis is standing near his doorway, phone in hand.
“Thank you again, Harry, you have great taste in tea. And in football teams.”
“It was really no problem at all,” Harry pauses and pulls his own phone out of his jeans pocket. “Here, have my number. Just so you can like, text me when you get home? And when you hear about your car? Just in case.”
Louis grins like he knows exactly what Harry is doing and takes Harry’s phone while pushing his own into Harry’s hands. "Well in that case, you better have mine. Just in case you wanted to ask me about tea, or class. Or something.”
“Or something.”
They exchange numbers and Louis gives Harry a tight hug before leaving, thanking him again. Harry waits a very distinguished ten seconds after the door closes behind him before jumping up and down in a circle waving his arms with a massive smile on his face.
Harry gets a text a few hours later from Louis, just “home safe even though liam is a terrible driver! Car should be ok in a few days, thanks again :) ” and goes to bed still smiling.
Zayn arrives back at the flat on Tuesday morning with a giant box of food from his mother and a flying hug for Harry and Niall. They’re still in a pile on the floor when Zayn pokes Harry’s ribs and says, “So I hear you’re being right swoony over your fitness instructor.”
Harry rolls facedown into the carpet, smiling into his hands. He and Louis have been texting non stop since Saturday night, and he’s aware he’s been a bit embarrassing about it, jumping for the phone whenever it vibrates. Their conversation moves from football to Breaking Bad to their friends to why Louis became a dance instructor to cornflakes to turtles to how much they love their mums to their hair and it never gets boring. He suspects that Niall has been taking pictures of Harry smiling pathetically at his phone and sending them to everyone they know.
“He’s just so amazing,” Harry says to Zayn but mostly to the carpet, “and we just click, you know? Even though we just met. It just kind of happened.”
“So does this mean you don’t need to go to that class anymore?”
“Are you joking? I’d go every day if I could,” Harry melts further into the carpet as Zayn pats his shoulder consolingly, “you would understand if you met him.”
“Isn’t that class tonight?” Niall asks around the samosa he’s stolen from Zayn’s box, “we should go with you. It’s even funnier to watch live.”
Harry groans again. He needs to get new friends.
Despite his protests, Harry finds himself walking up to One Mode’s front doors at class time with Zayn and Niall in tow. Louis is even outside locking up his bike in front of the gym, and he smiles beatifically when he sees them, because the universe both loves and hates Harry.
“Did you ride your bike to work today?" Harry asks when he’s in hearing range.
“No, I drove a boat.” Louis replies, flicking Harry’s shoulder affectionately, “My car’s in the shop for another day or two, so I brought my bike out instead.”
“That’s a decent ride isn’t it?” Harry says, remembering where Louis had said he lived, “You must be good to ride all the way here and then teach classes.”
“Thanks,” Louis says casually, eyes flicking down Harry’s torso, “I’m good at riding a lot of things.” Harry chokes on his tongue.
Louis smiles innocently and twirls around on one foot, “See you in class, Harry!”
Harry watches him go, gaping, barely registering Zayn and Niall shaking with laughter behind him.
The next two weeks are just a blur of LouisLouisLouis for Harry. He’s either taking class with Louis or texting with Louis or talking on the phone with Louis or thinking about Louis. He’s never felt this way about anyone before, and it’s making his brain go to deeply romantic places he didn’t even know existed. It’s way too soon and it’s all a bit embarrassing, but he’s too happy to care.
On top of all this, Harry gets surprisingly invested in his jazz fit class. He knows Louis is a big part of this. Louis shouts encouragement to him during class and gives him hugs before and after. He starts touching Harry to give him individual corrections and adjustments, and Harry can handle the glares from the ladies of the class if he can feel that crackle when Louis touches him. But Harry also likes to be good at things, and he wants to be good at this. It’s almost frustrating that he can’t get things right, even though he enjoys it all the same. He just feels like he can do better, and he doesn’t know how to do it. He even practices at his flat, blasting pop music at full blast and shoving things over so he has room. All he gets from this are a few more scrapes and bruises and two annoyed flatmates.
Harry’s at the gym on a non-Louis day, working out on the machines and with weights for a change of pace. Somehow he still finds himself dancing in front of the mirror, messing up his grapevines and buckling his knees in his kicks. He’s so engrossed that he nearly jumps a foot in the air when he glances up and sees Liam standing nearby, watching him in the mirror. Liam has interrupted two more moments between Harry and Louis in the past weeks, so Harry isn’t exactly feeling warm and fuzzy towards him right now, but he’s polite anyway.
“Do you need anything, Liam? Am I not supposed to be dancing here?”
“No that’s not--well you’re not technically, but that’s not why I came over here,” Liam hesitates, as if choosing his words carefully, “You’re really not very good.” Okay, not so carefully then.
Harry huffs in frustration, “I know, that’s why I’m practicing.”
“It’s just like, a fitness class, there isn’t a performance or anything. It’s alright if you aren’t really coordinated.”
“I know, I just want to be good. For myself.”
Liam pauses again and then leans towards Harry and beckons him in as if he’s about to tell him a secret. Harry steps a bit closer. “Now, I shouldn’t really be telling you this, because this is supposed to be for clients who have been here a while, but you could always sign up for extra lessons with Louis if you really want to get better.”
Harry perks up. “Private lessons?”
“One on one. Just you and Louis, so he can give you all the help you need.”
All of a sudden, Harry feels a rush of warm and fuzzy feelings for Liam. “Yes, that! I want to do that!”
Liam grins brightly and leads him to the front desk to sign him up. This is an excellent idea.
This is a terrible idea.
It’s a Friday night and Harry is sitting alone in an empty dance studio, pretending to stretch but actually silently panicking. He’s realized that one-on-one classes with Louis means that it will just be the two of them, just Louis watching Harry’s terrible dancing. He doesn’t think Louis is going to be mean or judge him, but he’s nervous all the same. There’s also a tiny portion of Harry’s brain that worries that this makes him look pathetic, but he does his best to silence it. The door opens and Harry throws himself down over one leg, trying to look like a good dutiful stretching student and not a nervous wreck with a crush.
“You’re getting better at that.”
Harry looks up from where he’s attempting to press his nose to his knee to look into Louis’ smiling face. He doesn’t even try to tamp down the butterflies in his stomach.
“Thanks, at least that’s one thing,” he pulls himself up with Louis’ proffered hand and sways on his feet when he realizes how close together that brings them, “but that’s why we’re here.”
“Yeah,” Louis says quietly, eyes flickering down to Harry’s lips, “that’s exactly why we’re here. Yeah.”
There’s no sounds but their breathing, and Harry wonders if this is finally the moment, when there’s a clattering noise from outside the studio. Louis pulls away and takes his iPod out of his pocket, muttering something about getting started. Harry glares beyond the closed door at whatever interrupted them this time. It was probably Liam.
A Lady Gaga song comes through the speakers and Louis leads Harry through a short warm up, one that would be all professional if it wasn’t for the way he catches Harry’s gaze whenever he can. It sends tingles up Harry’s spine that have nothing to do with the way he’s arching and twisting it in the exercises. They go through three songs like this before Louis presses pause, turning to Harry and adjusting his headband.
“So what did you want to work on, exactly? Other than everything.”
Harry giggles, “Everything was what I was going to say, so. Do you have any professional opinions as my instructor?”
Louis bites his lip, “How about we go over that combo we did at the end of last class? Once together, and then you can do it yourself while I watch and help you out.”
Harry agrees and Louis puts on the song they had danced to, something about sailing across oceans and there being nowhere they’d rather be. They do the combination together first, and Harry tries not to be distracted by Louis’ grace and bounce and rhythm, or the rolling of his body during the hips section. He’s seen Louis move in class before of course, but it’s so much more when it’s just the two of them, and the air is charged the way it is. The combination ends and Louis moves to start the song again, gesturing for Harry to do it himself. Harry throws himself into it, both intimidated and motivated by Louis’ eyes on him. Louis pushes off where he had been leaning against the mirror to walk towards Harry and around him as he dances.
“Don’t tense up your shoulders there,” Louis says softly, his voice rolling over Harry like a wave as he walks around him. Harry tries to relax his body, “That’s the right foot first there, and then left, and there’s a bounce to that, don’t forget it.”
It comes to the hip swivels and Harry tries not to start when he feels Louis’ hands on his hips from behind, guiding his hips into circles and figure eights. He presses back into Louis’ grasp and the next steps are forgotten as they move together to the music, Louis’ warm breath on his neck. Harry reaches down and covers Louis’ hands with his own, pressing down as if giving him permission. Before he knows it Louis’ spun around so they’re face to face, dancing forgotten. Harry presses his hand into the dip of Louis’ waist while Louis runs his own up Harry’s shoulder around to his neck. They stand there, swaying slightly, before Louis rises a bit on his toes, and kisses him. The buzz under Harry’s skin engulfs him, and he suddenly relates to the words of the song.
when I am with you there’s no place I’d rather be
“This is the fourth time she’s been here, and he’s just talking to her now.”
Louis is leaning around the corner of a potted plant, tugging Harry forward with him by their clasped hands.
“I saw him staring at her when we were talking the other day, He’s really obvious.” Zayn adds, laughing a bit. He and Niall have taken to hanging around the gym now that Harry’s always there visiting Louis. Neither of them work out, they mostly hang around being nuisances and talking to Liam.
“I think she might be into him too,” Niall insists, “I tried chatting her up the other week, and nothing.”
It’s Liam they’re all talking about as he leans over the front desk, smiling his most charming smile at the brunette on the other side. She’s flicking a pen back and forth between her fingers, but she’s smiling, and Harry thinks Niall might be right.
He looks at his boyfriend with a smile, “You know what we have to do then.”
Louis nods, squeezing his hand, and looks around at the others, “Are you ready, troops?”
Niall salutes, “We’re ready captain!”
“1, 2- CHARGEEEE!”
As one, the four boys rush towards the desk, capturing Liam in a flying hug just as he’s leaning in trying to get the girl’s number. They end up in a pile on the floor behind the desk, Liam groaning and cursing their names.
Harry giggles and meets Louis’ eyes and feels a rush of warmth run through him. He may never have really learned to dance, but this? This is much better.