Relative to your WIP listing, I have to ask you about “goodbye o”, because of course it made me think of a stunt which shall not be named. But also I remember when I was in college in the late ‘90s, there was the song “Goodbye Earl” by the Chicks, as they now call themselves and that was a story song.
So I am super intrigued about “goodbye o” now! Haha!
Hope your week is starting off great!
hellooooooooooo, kelly! it's funny because i can totally see where you're coming from with that title, but it's actually an omegaverse fic loosely based on / inspired by the film 'goodbye girl'
it's the omega!louis fic idea i've had FOREVER where louis likes to drop for fun, but i can't get the rest of the story. i have like a dozen variations of this wip with different harrys - rich and famous h, neighbor h, friend h, friend of a friend h - and none of them have worked out. but i have hope!
Okay, favorite fic you’ve written……I’ve got to go with “Darling, So It Goes” as the overall #1. However, “Suddenly, Last Summer is for sure a favorite, as well as “That’s My Jam”.
But “Just One Look (And I Fell So Hard)” was a one shot that I could’ve read 10 more chapters from, it just stole my heart. Something about Harry’s adorable inner monologue, the instant, undeniable attraction between him and Louis and the overall tenderness throughout made this one I’ll read over and over again!
What can I say, your catalog is an embarrassment of riches! Thank you for gifting us with your talent for beautiful storytelling 🥰
Kelly! Thank you so much ❤️❤️ your fic comments are god tier and I appreciate you and your kind words more than I can say!
Hi! Larry on a boat sounds really fun! I could use a good lunchtime read, thanks so much for offering these! We always appreciate all of you authors for sharing your AMAZING stories, but especially now, let’s sprinkle some additional appreciation on top! 🥰
omgggg this is my 3rd try posting this. i checked and it's within the character limit for tumblr, but the app kept shutting down. so now i'm on my laptop. ANYWAY. so this was a wip that i really wanted to make happen, but it hasn't worked out for me. i started it when the pandemic first started. louis is self-isolating on a boat (inspired by someone who did that here!) and i think he's older/silver foxy in this version. there's another (lost) version where they're exes.
thank you! i hope you like it!
“It’s such bullshit, man,” Niall says, pushing the sopping wet mop around on the floor behind the bar. It’s more effort than he usually makes and the smell of bleach is strong. “Can’t believe we still have to work.”
“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got rent due.” Harry downs his shot of tequila and pats his pocket. “Smoke?”
“Weed?” Niall asks, and when Harry nods, Niall does too. “Let me finish my register and shit. Have a beer while you wait.”
Harry winds up having two and a half beers before Niall is finished. They wash their hands in the kitchen, laughing because they’ve both had their hands in and out of bleach water all evening, sanitizing everything in the restaurant. They walk out with another waiter, splitting up in the parking lot. Down the road from the bar where they work are the docks where local fishermen sell their catch, and where many of them keep their boats. Very rarely are there people out there this late at night, even in the peak of summertime. With it being February, and with the plague or whatever, there definitely won’t be anyone around.
“Think I’m gonna call out tomorrow,” Niall says.
“Really?”
“Yeah, man. They can’t fire us. Or like, at the very least, they’ll hire us back.” It sounds almost sensible, but then Harry remembers that his electric bill is past due and his roommate paid him in weed again.
“You make money tonight or something?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes.
“I did alright. Three hundred.”
“Shit. I need to quit being a waiter and tend bar,” Harry says. He didn’t make a third of that tonight.
Niall parks as close as he can, and they walk to the end of the dock. “Oh, wow. Nice boat.”
“What is that, like… Is that considered a yacht?” Harry asks, squinting into the dark. It does look like one. A small one. It has a sail, so at least it’s a sailboat. Probably.
Carefully, Harry unfolds the piece of aluminum foil he hid in the dry storage room when he first got to the restaurant that afternoon. The joint is lumpy and loose because he was in a hurry, and already high when he rolled it, but it tears easily, right down the middle. Harry makes sure to pinch the paper tight, and twists the ends of both half-sized joints before handing one to Niall.
“That boat’s anchoring? Anchored? Whatever. It’s so close, like, why didn’t they dock it?” Harry asks, exhaling through his nose. There’s no science to back it up, but his hypothesis is that he gets a better high that way. “Bet it’d be easy to steal, right? Just, like… Swim out to it, lower the sails, and let the wind take you.”
Niall snorts. And coughs. And coughs again.
“You better be choking on smoke, man.” Harry digs in his pocket and pulls out a bottle of hand sanitizer, holding it up until Niall opens his palm.
Niall coughs again and laughs his wheezing high-laugh. “Nah, man, I was picturing you stealing a boat.”
“I could do it,” Harry insists. It does seem plausible. Wind. Waves. Sails. The desire to be free. However, there’s also the desire to not get arrested. Or like, die in a boating accident or something. It’s not like he knows how to sail. Still, the drama. It’s appealing.
“Right,” Niall says. “I don’t even think you could swim out to it. It’s far. And then you’d have to climb on board, lower the sail—”
“Okay, so I probably couldn’t steal it. But I could swim out there. And get on board. There’s like, a ladder. I think. Steps, maybe? It’s not that far.” Maybe it’s the beer and weed, but he’s sure he could do it, and he doesn’t think he’ll drown. “Bet I can swim there and back in like, no time.”
Niall snorts and coughs, standing up from the dock and pointing out at the small yacht. “It’s pretty far out in the inlet. Like, that’s a fucking swim, man.”
“Still think I could do it,” Harry says, pinching the joint and holding it to his lips.
“Give you half my tips if you do it,” Niall says, and Harry whips his head around.
“Seriously?” He could really use the money.
“You’re not gonna fucking drown, are you?”
Harry shrugs. “Probably not.”
“I don’t know, man.” Niall hums quietly, circling his hand in the air, leaving a trail of smoke. “That’s like, one of my biggest fears: dying doing something stupid while high.”
“Legitimate fear. Good one,” Harry says, patting his pockets. Maybe Niall will bet him to do something… easier. “You backing out? ’Cause I’m not.”
“No, no. Hundred fifty,” Niall says, and Harry has to rethink their friendship. “But like, can you take a life jacket?”
Harry scowls. “Where am I supposed to get one of those?”
Niall points at the line of boats along the dock.
“I’m not stealing a life jacket. Just, like… Can you keep up with my shit. Like my wallet and keys?” Harry asks, and Niall nods.
“Yeah, man,” Niall says.
“My phone too,” Harry says, handing it over. He kicks off his smelly work shoes and peels off his socks. It’ll be a nice, brisk swim. Probably isn’t even that cold. He walks to the edge of the dock and bends down, dipping his toe into the water. It’s certainly not warm.
He can do this. He’s a strong swimmer. Was on the swim team when he was… Well, that was a long time ago. And he supposes it wasn’t so much a team as a group of moms trying to get their kids to burn off energy in a pool. Still. He kept the ribbons and participation medals.
“Okay, give me an hour. If I’m not back, call like, the coast guard or something.” Harry nods once and strips out of his dirty uniform, kicking it into a pile with his socks and shoes.
“An hour? I can’t sit here for an hour and like, worry about you drowning.”
“It won’t take me that long. Look,” Harry says, pointing a shaking finger at the boat. “It’s not that far. And if I don’t think I can swim back, I’ll… I’ll steal a lifejacket.”
Niall lifts his phone and says, “Okay. I’m going to record this.”
“Use my phone, man.” Harry grabs it from the pile of his things and tosses it to Niall.
“Yeah, okay. And here…” Niall pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and hands Harry the bet money.
Harry reaches for his wallet, but stops, standing and tucking the cash into his briefs. They’re tight enough that he doesn’t think he’ll lose the money in the water. He walks back to the end of the dock, and turns to face Niall.
“Go ahead, Harry.” Niall holds up his phone, wheezing another laugh, and says, “Tell us what you’re about to do.”
“Swim to that boat and back. Niall gave me a hundred and fifty bucks,” Harry pats his dick through his underwear, and Niall snorts.
“He put the money under his dick,” Niall says, turning the phone around to film himself. “Like, he used his dick as a paper weight.”
“This is why we wash our hands, people,” Harry says, cupping himself. “Okay, okay, okay. Here goes!”
Toes curled around the edge of the wooden dock, Harry takes a few deep breaths, trying to gauge the distance to the boat, and then he dives. It’s remarkable what you remember. Swimming, though he hasn’t done it in years, feels similar to riding a bike in that way. Of course, his muscles aren’t used to the workout, and the movements don’t come as fluidly as they once did, but he’s also taller and stronger and, once he gets into a groove with his freestyle stroke, he is one hundred percent certain for the first time that he is not going to die while high and doing something stupid. Not tonight. His mom would be so pissed.
Still, by the time he’s close enough to the boat to see that there is, in fact, a ladder similar to the ones in the pool he used to swim in, he’s exhausted. He can make it back to the dock, but only after a rest.
Waves rock the boat, making it harder to hold on to the ladder, but Harry gets his footing and climbs up, water running off of his body onto the boat deck. The air is colder than he remembers, and his nipples pebble instantly.
One hand on the ladder to steady himself, Harry turns around and waves at Niall. When Niall waves back, Harry gives him two thumbs up, which he hopes are visible on camera, and looks around.
Turns out that yachts are pretty boring. At least the visible parts. The cold water sobered Harry the second he surfaced and took his first breath, and after swimming for so long, he’s now sober, exhausted, hungry, and shivering. And whatever’s interesting about the boat is probably locked up behind the two small doors that Harry hopes lead to some sort of room below. Though, he supposes there could be an engine or something in there. While he’s on board, he might as well find out.
Harry reaches for the doors to see if he can feel any handles or latches, though it’s difficult to tell what’s what in the moonlight. The doors swing open towards Harry, and he screams, stumbling backwards into the table that he just carefully avoided banging his hip on, and he falls sideways, crashing into the edge of the cushioned bench, and landing in a twisted tangle of limbs.
Niall coughs, and Harry thinks he might’ve hit his head.
A scratchy voice asks, “What the fuck?”
“Niall?” Harry speaks to the stars in the sky, too stunned to move.
“Okay, what the fuck, Niall?”
Funny. That doesn’t sound like Niall. Harry lets his head loll to the side and squints.
“No, you’re not Niall,” Harry says decisively.
“No, I’m not Niall. I’m Louis.” The most beautiful man Harry’s ever seen rises up with a glowing golden light, and floats over him. He frowns, which makes Harry sad, and points at Harry, which makes him happy, and says, “You’re Niall.”
“No, I’m Harry.” He’s almost positive.
“Okay, Harry, then. What the fuck?” Louis coughs, covering his mouth with his arm. “Damn it.”
“Oh… Do you have the plague?” Harry asks.
“Did you swim out here to ask me that?”
“Uh… um…” Harry thinks about the truth, while Louis looks him up and down, and wonders what Louis would prefer to hear. Leaning in and holding Harry’s face in his hand, Louis moves Harry’s head side to side, peering intently into his eyes. Harry lets him because it seems like the thing to do, it’s not like he’s busy otherwise. Louis combs his fingers through Harry’s hair, close to his scalp, and Harry stares in wonder at the look of concern on Louis’ face. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Louis tips his head to the side. “Yeah, what?”
“Don’t know,” Harry says. “You touched my face. We’re not supposed to touch our faces and I think that includes, like, other people’s faces.”
“Shit,” Louis says, pulling back and standing up.
“I’m in my underwear,” Harry says, because he is. He just realized that he’s laying on the deck, he supposes that’s what it’s called, in his tiny pink briefs and nothing else. His tiny pink briefs, a hundred a fifty dollars, and nothing else.
Louis looks down at Harry’s crotch, nodding to confirm the fact, then looks up, holding his hand over his eyes as if to shade them from the moonlight. He turns back to Harry and asks, “Did you swim out here? There’s a guy on the dock, waving at me.”
“That’s Niall,” Harry says.
“Oh, that’s Niall,” Louis says, waving at Niall. Maybe it’s the moonlight or maybe he hit his head, but it’s the most graceful wave he’s ever seen. Louis scowls down at him. “You swam out here?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, pleased to know the answer.
“Why?”
Harry remembers that he has a body, that it’s mostly naked, and that Louis is looking at him. He reaches down and cups his cock. “Niall gave me a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“And you’re touching your dick because…”
“Because of the hundred and fifty dollars,” Harry says. Duh. “Duh.”
“Okay,” Louis says, dragging out the sound and scowling at him again. Harry wants to pout, but Louis holds out his hand, as if to help Harry up, so Harry grins at him instead. Lifting his hands in the air, Harry stretches his arms up until Louis grabs him by both wrists, and pulls. Because there isn’t much space, Harry doesn’t get all the way to his feet before Louis runs out of room and can’t back up any farther. But Harry manages to get his ass onto the bench seat, and figures he’s not likely to fall again.
“Sorry I, um…” Harry rubs the back of his head where he hit it, and there’s a bump, but no blood when he checks his hand. “Sorry. We were just fucking around. Niall bet I couldn’t swim out here. I didn’t know anyone was on the boat.”
“Were you planning to swim back? Or did you think that far ahead?” Louis asks, dropping back down through the door that he came out of before. A moment later, he returns with a stack of folded towels. He drapes a towel over Harry’s head and wraps one around his shoulders. “Dry off. Warm up.”
“Thanks,” Harry says. It’s nice of Louis to be so hospitable. He very carefully bends over where he’s seated and wraps a towel around his hair, then tightens the one on his shoulders. “I can probably swim back in a little while.”
“You really think you can swim back?”
“No, but I was hoping you’d offer to like, sail me up to the dock.”
“Not tonight,” Louis says. “In the morning. When I can see.”
“Oh, okay.” Harry checks beside him on the bench and, seeing nothing, lays down.
Louis snorts. “Come below deck. You might as well sleep in a bed. You’ve already been exposed.”
“Exposed?” Harry gasps, towel toppling off his head as he clutches his hand to his chest. “You have the plague!”
“I don’t, but my boss does,” Louis says with a shrug. “So, you could, I guess? This is his boat, so…”
“Great. Thanks,” Harry says, unwrapping the towel from his hair.
“You swam out here, man,” Louis says, turning and climbing through the doors. Now that he’s not lying on the floor, Harry can see the steps that lead down into the space under the boat. Below deck or whatever. Louis calls from down there, “You can use my phone.”
“Oh, yeah.” Harry tries to focus on the end of the dock and can see Niall still standing there, waiting. Carefully, Harry gets to his feet and makes his way over to the ladder, waving at him. Niall waves back and Harry points towards Louis, who he can see is waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. Probably worried that Harry will fall again. Harry drapes his towels over his shoulders, carefully climbing down, and Louis appears at the ready, should Harry be unable to handle three measly steps. It’s cute. Louis is cute. “Do you have any Tylenol?”
“I think, yeah. You hit your head, then?”
Harry nods, and Louis reaches into a cabinet, which turns out to be a refrigerator, opening a bottle of water and handing it to Harry, who takes it, along with two Tylenol.
“Here,” Louis says, unlocking his phone and placing it in Harry’s open palm.
The only phone number Harry knows besides his mom’s is his own, which is convenient, since he left his phone with Niall. He climbs back up the step ladder and waves both arms to get Niall’s attention, hoping he’ll put it together and pick up. After his phone rings once, Harry waves again, phone in his hand so that maybe Niall will see it. When Niall jumps and claps, Harry laughs and holds the phone to his ear.
“Harry?”
“Hey, man. Shit, I’m glad you answered.”
“Yeah, what the fuck is going on? Who’s that dude?”
“Louis,” Harry says, smiling at the sound. “It’s his boat. I fell and hit my head, but I’m okay. But also, I probably shouldn’t swim back. So Louis said he’ll take me in the morning, if you’ll come pick me up, but guess what?”
“What?” Niall obliges.
“I guess he’d quarantined himself out here or something. So I’m going to have to lock myself up in my room. Probably see if I can get tested. Will you bring me food? And maybe like a mask or something for me to wear while we’re in the car together? Oh, man, we share a bathroom…”
“Shit, man. Might as well stay on the boat,” Niall says.
“Well, fuck you too, Niall,” Harry says.
“Just sayin’ you might as well, but whatever. Yeah, I’ll come pick you up, but if you cough on me, I swear, Harry, I—”
“Thanks, man. Love you,” Harry says. “I guess I’ll call you when I’m about to head towards the dock.”
“Okay, Harry. Be careful,” Niall says, and hangs up. Harry waves at him one more time, then climbs back below deck to face a worried Louis.
As Harry takes the last step, he hands Louis his phone, catching his toe and falling into Louis’ chest. He blushes, remembering again that he’s practically naked. “Oops.”
“Hi,” Louis says, steadying him with his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Okay?”
“Wait a minute…” Harry narrows his eyes. “Come below deck. Is that some… some euphemism?”
“Euphemism?” Louis laughs, rolling his eyes. “No one’s having sex, Harry. There’s a guest cabin, so you’ll have your own berth.”
“Oh,” Harry says, unable to hide his disappointment. “Okay, thanks.”
“Yeah, it’s right here,” Louis says, and Harry turns in place, away from the tiny kitchen, which he thinks probably has a specific nautical name, towards the other side of the stepladder. It reminds him of his grandparents’ camper. “Listen, um… Do you want something to sleep in? I have some—”
“Nah, I’m good,” Harry says, crawling onto the thin mattress and looking back over his shoulder. “Usually sleep naked, so I’d just take whatever it is off again.”
“Oh… Okay.” Louis nods, swallowing audibly.
The bed in the guest cabin is made so neatly that Harry wonders if it’s ever been slept in, blankets tucked in so tight that it’s a bit of a struggle to pull them free, but he gets them loose and crawls underneath completely before wiggling out of his briefs. Sitting up, Harry shakes out his damp underwear and hangs them on a little hook that juts out of the wall, probably for someone’s glasses or hat.
“Thanks, Louis, for like, not having me arrested.”
Louis laughs quietly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re welcome.”
“Also, thank you for letting me sleep here, but not for possibly giving me the plague. I’m not thrilled about that,” Harry says.
Again, Louis shrugs. “Sorry. Goodnight, Harry.”
“’Night, Louis,” Harry says, but he doesn’t lie back down until Louis steps forward and pulls the thin door to the cabin closed. As soon as he does, Harry reaches under the blanket and pulls out a hundred and fifty dollars, tucking the rolled up bills inside the flap of his briefs. Imagine, swimming all that way for a bet, and then losing the money. Especially now that he’s going to have to pay to go to the doctor.
It’s an odd night’s sleep on the water. Once, when Harry was a teenager, he spent the night on a waterbed, but this is nothing like that. Occasionally, he feels like he’s falling, and wakes up panicking for a few seconds until he remembers where he is. When the sun rises, Harry is finally getting to sleep, so he buries his face in the pillow and ignores it. Louis will wake him up when he’s ready to take him to the dock.
————
“Harry,” Louis’ urgent voice cuts through his dream. “Did you fuck with the anchor or something last night?”
Rolling onto his back, Harry rubs his eyes. “What? No.”
“You didn’t pull it up or mess with it?”
“No,” Harry says, sitting up. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess it must’ve come loose and we drifted or something, ’cause we’re not anchored off the inlet. There’s no dock, but we’re like, close to land, so…”
“Seriously? You don’t know where we are?” Harry asks, throwing back the blankets, and scooting to the end of the bed.
“Can you?” Louis gestures to Harry’s crotch, and Harry smiles proudly. His dick is one of his favorite body parts; It’s nice when it’s appreciated by others. Still, he pulls on his pink briefs.
“How can you not know where we are?” Harry stands, adjusting his semi, and Louis scoffs. “I just woke up.”
Louis ignores him and climbs out onto the deck, so Harry follows him up, looking around. The boat is just as close to the shore as it was from the dock, if not closer, and there’s marshland, which is somewhat familiar, but there are no docks or other boats. They must’ve floated into a preserved wildlife area or something.
“I think we drifted north?” Louis slides aviator sunglasses over his eyes, and says. “My phone died, so I plugged it in. But we can probably check in a minute.”
“Oh,” Harry says, and watches Louis fiddle with something on the pedestal beside the steering wheel or helm or whatever it’s called.
“Shit. Seriously?” Louis smacks his hand against the wheel and slowly lowers his head down until he knocks his forehead on it. “The engine isn’t working.”
“Thought this was a sailboat,” Harry says, looking up at the empty mast.
“Haha. It is, but boats like this have engines too, and that’s what I used. I don’t know a lot about sailing.”
“Me neither,” Harry says. “I don't know anything about it.”
“Okay, so, it’s fine. My phone’s probably charged enough now,” Louis says, going back below deck. This time Harry doesn’t follow, feeling sure that Louis will bring his phone out for a better signal.
A few minutes later, Harry climbs down to find Louis sitting on the little sofa.
“Nothing’s working. None of the outlets. The fridge. Lights. Nothing.”
“What… What do we do?” Harry asks, uselessly flipping a light switch.
“Would Niall call someone? Like, if you don’t show up or call by a certain time?”
Harry nods. “He’s probably sleeping. Expecting me to call and wake him up.”
“Okay,” Louis says. “Okay, um… We have everything we need, like food and water and necessities. Hopefully Niall will call someone—”
“The Coast Guard,” Harry helpfully supplies.
“Or anyone. But they’ll come find us.”
“How is nothing working?” Harry asks, following Louis below deck.
“No clue,” Louis says, lying down on the little sofa. “Maybe we got struck by lightning.”
Staring at him, Harry drops onto the bench across from him. “It didn’t storm. It hasn’t rained at all. How’s that supposed to happen?”
“I don’t know, Harry. I’m not a weatherman.”
“Meteorologist.”
“Dude,” Louis says, turning his head to look right at him. “Shut up.”
Harry shuts up.
Sweatpants would be nice. It’s not super cold. The weather is nice, actually, with clear skies and sun, and typically Harry’s pro-nudity, but Louis is wearing sweatpants. Dark grey ones. And they look comfy and warm and soft and they drape over Louis’ dick, drawing attention to it in a way that Harry can’t tell the intent. Which is why he wants sweatpants. Then he could lose the pink briefs, which dried stiffly overnight, and without underwear on, he knows he could draw Louis’ attention.
“Remember when you offered me something to wear?” Harry sucks his lower lip between his teeth, ducking his chin and looking through his lashes.
“Stop staring,” Louis says, and Harry’s mouth drops open. Not that he was being discreet, but he wasn’t expecting that response. “I have something. Hold on.”
Harry watches while Louis opens the door to his room, frowning at the oddly shaped bed. After a moment, during which only the curve of Louis’ ass is visible to Harry while the rest of him is hidden by the wall, Louis emerges with a wrinkled pair of cut off sweatpants.
“They’re clean,” Louis says, shaking them out. “I didn’t think I’d be around people. So I just stuffed my clean laundry into a trash bag.”
“Okay, um, thank you,” Harry says, taking the shorts. “I keep my laundry in a basket.”
“I’m sure you do,” Louis says, stepping up into the sunlight.
As soon as Louis is out of sight, Harry strips out of his briefs, tucking his money into the front, and hiding them under the edge of the mattress. The cut-off shorts are a much lighter grey than the pair of loosely fitting sweatpants Louis is wearing, and when Harry pulls them on, he finds they’re quite snug. He makes sure his dick is displayed in an aesthetically appealing, yet still properly lewd way, and ascends the stairs.
“In a way, those are worse than your see-through pink bikini,” Louis says when he turns around. Even with his sunglasses on, he squints, and Harry wished he had a pair to protect his eyes. It’s bright out.
“Those are briefs,” Harry says, looking down at the shadow his soft cock makes. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Piss over the side,” Louis says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “No way the head is working when nothing else is.”
“Gross.”
“Yes. It is,” Louis says.
Harry holds onto the railing with one hand, standing at the top of the ladder he climbed the night before, and pushed his shorts down with his free hand. It takes him a minute to get past being gun shy, but the wind blows and he pees, laughing at the arc it makes before it hits the water.
Dick tucked in, Harry carefully sits on the bench and lets himself look. The trees on the bank come right up to the water in places, curving over so that it’d be nearly impenetrable. No telling what’s on the other side either.
“What if I, um… need to, um…”
“If you can’t hold it,” Louis starts, pausing and looking at Harry over his sunglasses. “We’d have to… I guess we’d have to… We could inflate the dinghy, paddle it over there.” He points at the nearest bit of sand — a beach, Harry supposes, though it’s not much bigger than the sailboat — and says, “And if you’ve ever been camping…”
“Oh,” Harry says, cheeks turning pink. “Never mind.”
“Yeah, hopefully, Niall will wake up and call someone. Or maybe somebody will see us.”
“Who’s gonna see us? There’s no one around.”
“True. I don’t know… Maybe we should go to the end of the, um… the trees there.” Louis points in the opposite direction, and Harry turns to look, shading his eyes with his hands. It’s not far, but there’s no way Harry would swim it, and he doesn’t know how far he could paddle on an empty stomach. Without coffee. Or a bathroom.
“Are you serious?” Harry asks instead. “What’s that gonna do?”
Louis lifts the bench across from Harry and says, “Flares. Maybe we’re closer to the inlet than we realize and someone will see.”
“Okay, yeah. That makes sense,” Harry says, imagining hours on the water, paddling and going mere inches. “Do you have a hat or something?”
“Yeah, we’ll be gone a while. Sunscreen’s probably a good idea. Shirts, too.” Louis leads the way below deck. “And coffee.”
They wind up eating cereal, and Harry borrows a white t-shirt, a pair of oversized yellow sunglasses that he doesn’t think belong to Louis, a Louisville snapback that he thinks does, and the rest of a bottle of sunscreen that’s two months past it’s expiration date. It’s enough for his nose.
Louis climbs down first, into the dinghy, and Harry tosses the paddles to him. It’s reassuring watching him moving gracefully in the little boat, tucking a cooler in the back corner alongside the package of signal flares. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he looks like it, and he thought to bring lunch. He helps Harry from the ladder to the dinghy, pointing to the other side.
“Sit up there,” Louis says, tapping his paddle on the end of the seat up front. “I’ll steer from the back.”
Using his paddle, Louis pushes the dinghy away from the boat, and they start towards the edge of the trees. At first, they’re out of sync with each other, but they get it after a few minutes, paddling and coasting, paddling and coasting, while Louis keeps them heading in the right direction. It’s exhausting and they’ve barely started.
“See that beach?” Louis points to a short stretch of sand with a fallen tree in the center. “Stopping there.”
“Okay,” Harry says, paddling as Louis steers them that way.
They don’t talk much, except for Louis giving instructions occasionally to move them closer to the beach. They get there faster than Harry expected, and it’s much too early for lunch. As they approach the sand, the water clears some, and Harry watches crabs and fish darting away at the sight of the boat. There’s a splash, and Harry looks up to see Louis wading his way around to the front of the boat, holding onto the rope on the side and guiding it in. Harry puts his paddle beside Louis’, tucking the end under the seat so it won’t fall out.
“Sit,” Louis says as he passes Harry, reaching his hand down and circling his fingers around Harry’s ankle. Harry sits. And Louis pulls the boat through the shallow water to the beach. “Okay, you can jump off now. Help me get the boat onto the sand.”
Even in a few inches of water, the boat is wobbly and hard to move around in, but Harry quickly scoots to the side and throws his legs over, sliding down into the cold water and helping haul the boat ashore. They pull it all the way up into the sand, and Louis grabs the oars, tossing one to Harry. He reaches into the cooler and pulls out a roll of toilet paper, wrapping it around his hand and giving the wad of tissue to Harry.
“Take your paddle. You go that way,” Louis says, pointing at Harry, who takes a moment to figure out what’s going on. Louis jerks his thumb in the opposite direction. “I’ll go this way.”
“Okay…” Harry stands there, paddle in one hand, tissue in the other. “How will I know how far to go?”
Louis sighs, looking at the woods around the beach. It’s fairly dense, and neither of them have shoes on. “I’m just going to sing. I’ll sing, you sing, so we can judge how far away from each other we are. We go as far as we can, I guess, and then just… dig a hole. And, you know, bury it.”
“Okey dokey,” Harry says.
“Yeah…” Louis takes his sunglasses off and hangs them from the loose collar of his t-shirt, and says, “Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine.”
“Oh!”
“Gotta gotta be down because I want it all,” Louis sings, raising his eyebrows and spinning on his heel. He walks towards the tree line, raising his voice as he goes. “It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?”
“It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss,” Harry sings back, walking the other way.
Harry stumbles over vines and branches, singing his heart out, turning now and then to look back at the boat. When he can’t see the boat, which doesn’t take long considering how thick the growth is, he stops to listen. He can’t hear Louis, which means Louis hopefully can’t hear him. It is not the most embarrassing bathroom situation Harry’s ever been in, so he takes it all in stride, and he sings his way back to the beach and the boat, where Louis is waiting with hand sanitizer. A king among men.
They push the boat back into the water, climbing in once they’re deep enough, and paddling towards the edge of the trees. When they get there, the sun is high in the sky, and Harry’s arms are no longer his own. They’ve become extensions of his paddle.
“Let’s get around the end here, then hopefully we’ll know which way to point the flare,” Louis says, paddling harder. Harry follows suit and they pass the last few trees on their left.
The inlet where he first climbed onto the yacht leads to the ocean. Harry’s been out there before, and just past the trees at the end is a buoy and a marker and past that, you can see up and down the beach. Hotels and large houses that meet the dunes, and dunes that meet the sand. There’s a natural area nearby where trees grow right up to the beach, but on the other side of the much wider dunes there, is a parking lot.
When they pass the last few trees on their left, they lift their paddles, and Harry looks left, then he looks right, then left again. The way the land curves along the water makes it difficult to see much, but there is no land visible across the water, and it looks like the ocean. He looks again, south he reckons, and turns to Louis. “Where the fuck are we?”
“Jesus,” Louis says, shading his eyes, even with sunglasses and a hat on. “I don’t see anything.”
“How far did we drift in… What? Six hours?” Harry shakes out his arms, then takes off his hat, combing his fingers through his sweaty, dirty hair. It’s so far back to the boat. The inflatable dinghy floats, no longer moving forward into the ocean, water lapping at the sides. Harry checks that his paddle is secure, and jumps overboard. Cold water touches every inch of his skin at once, making him forget which way is up, but he figures it out, kicking to the surface, gasping for air.
“Harry!” Louis shouts, holding his paddle out for Harry to grab hold. “What the fuck?”
Harry lets go of the paddle and sinks into the water, swimming the rest of the distance to the dinghy. “Sorry. Was just hot and I was pissed off.”
“And wanted to drown yourself?” Louis asks, leaning down to grab hold of Harry’s t-shirt. “I’m gonna count to three, and you kick like you’re swimming hard.”
Harry nods, and Louis hooks his hands underneath both of Harry’s arms and, on the count of three, when Harry kicks his feet, Louis hauls him out of the water. He pulls Harry over the side and into the inflatable boat, rolling out of the way just in time, so that Harry lands beside him and not on top of him.
“Holy shit,” Harry says, panting. “Sorry.”
“What the fuck?” Louis repeats, leaning over the side, cupping water in his hands, and splashing it on his face.
“I wanted to go swimming,” Harry explains.
“So you jumped overboard?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t think—”
“Clearly,” Louis says, sticking his paddle back in the water. “Let’s get back to the boat.”
Rather than try to explain further, Harry saves his energy for paddling. It probably wouldn’t make sense if he said it outloud anyway. The tide is rising as they paddle back, so the current carries them, making the trip easier than the first half. Still, when they reach the boat, and Louis grabs hold of the rope, Harry thinks he might not be able to climb the ladder, his arms are worn out. But Louis climbs up first, and his ass makes it easy for Harry to follow.
“Now what?” Harry asks, flopping onto the bench as soon as he steps off the ladder. “Wait and hope someone finds us?”
Louis sits across from him, frowning. He takes off his hat and sunglasses, rubbing his eyes and combing his fingers through his messy, sweat damp hair. “I don’t know. I thought we’d see more than… I thought we’d see like, hotels or another boat or something.”
“Me too,” Harry says. Though they couldn’t really see much when they looked south. “Do you think we drifted north or south or like… out to sea?”
“North, man. The current flows north, and once we drifted out of the inlet, we would’ve just gone with it.”
“I’m hungry,” Harry says, patting his empty stomach. “Time is it?”
“No clue, man. Sometime in the afternoon,” Louis says, pointing to the sun. He stands and waves for Harry to follow. “Come on. We should eat.”
Louis pulls everything out of the little refrigerator and freezer, and while he decides what needs to go, Harry makes them sandwiches. There’s more food than they’ll need, and once Harry’s stomach is full, he’s able to think a little more clearly.
“So, we wait,” Harry says.
“I’m not paddling anywhere anytime soon,” Louis responds, squeezing his shoulder and shaking out his arms.
“I don’t want to paddle anywhere ever again. Are you sure you can’t sail the boat?”
“I can sail the boat. I choose not to,” Louis says, climbing out onto the deck.
“What?”
“I know a little bit,” Louis says when Harry follows.
Not knowing anything at all about sailing, Harry figures it can’t be that hard. He climbs up on the bench and steps up on top of the boat, carefully walking to the mast and looking at the rolled up sail. “A little bit,” Harry says.
“My boss taught me some, but it makes me nervous, so I don’t do it.”
“It makes you nervous, so you don’t do it?” Harry asks, not quite believing him. “But you could, technically, sail us out of here, and like, just follow the coast until we get back home.”
“That or we could capsize and drown,” Louis says.
“We have life jackets. We won’t drown.”
“Who’s coming to rescue us then?”
Harry shrugs. “All I’m saying is I don’t want to be stuck here any longer than I have to.”
“In a hurry to self-isolate in your apartment?” Louis asks.
“Ugh. I forgot about the plague.”
“Stop calling it that. The plague is a real thing.”
“Whatever. Just because you want to be all alone on a boat doesn’t mean I do.”
“Well, hopefully Niall will pull through, then.” Louis looks up at him and when Harry slaps his hand against the rolled up sail, Louis shakes his head and disappears back below deck. The door to his cabin is closed when Harry follows him to try to continue the conversation, and despite the fact that he can obviously hear Harry, Louis doesn’t respond to anything he says. Eventually, he gives up and goes back up top. They were out in the sun for so long, but his skin isn’t pink at all, so Harry takes off his shirt and rolls up his shorts, laying on the cushioned bench and falling asleep in the late afternoon.
He wakes up stiff and sore and still tired, blinking up at Louis, who’s standing over him, surrounded by pink and purple light.
“Ooh, pretty,” Harry says, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. The sun is setting behind the trees and he’s awake just in time to watch it.
Louis sits beside him, resting his arms on the back of the bench. “Forty-eight hours.”
“Huh?”
“I want to wait until it’s been forty-eight hours. Give them a chance to find us,” Louis says, scratching at his beard. He turns slightly, dropping his hands into his lap. “Not tomorrow, but the next morning. If we haven’t been rescued, I’ll try to sail south.”
“Okay, but no capsizing,” Harry says.
Louis stills, shaking his head. “Have to wait and see.”
———
They are not rescued the following day. And they don’t talk about it. After breakfast, they paddle to the nearest beach and sing “Mr Brightside” at the top of their lungs while tromping through the trees in opposite directions. While Harry is using his paddle to push aside vines and brush on the way back to the beach, he sees something slithering past him in his peripheral vision. He screams, crashing through the trees and doesn’t stop until he’s waist deep in the water.
From the shore beside the boat, Louis watches him curiously. “What’d you see?”
“Snake, I think!” Harry shivers and wraps his arms around himself.
“Thought it might’ve been a bear,” Louis says, pushing the boat into the water and hopping on board. “This close to the water, it was probably an alligator or a water moccasin.”
Harry throws himself forward in the water, swimming as fast as he can towards the sound of Louis’ loud cackle. He’s able to push off of the sand and pull himself into the dinghy, though he lands even less gracefully than he did the day before when Louis hauled him out of the ocean.
“Jesus, fuck. That scared the shit out of me,” Harry says, clambering to sit up.
“Really?” Louis smirks, passing Harry’s paddle to him.
Harry rolls his eyes. “Poop jokes.”
“Timely poop jokes,” Louis says. “Paddle harder or the snake’ll catch us!”
Harry paddles harder, ignoring Louis’ laughter behind him. “I don’t care if you’re kidding. That was scary.”
“That’s why you have the paddle and your beautiful singing voice,” Louis says.
“Bear and snake protection?” Harry scowls at Louis over his shoulder.
“Better than nothing.”
The next morning, when they still have not been rescued, Harry sings so loudly that Louis laughs instead of singing along with him. He bangs his paddle against the trees, and doesn’t see any animals, but Louis manages to scare him anyway once he’s back in the boat and thinks he’s safe. They’re just getting out of the shallows, when Louis smacks his paddle on the surface of the water and yells, “Snake!”
Harry tries his hardest to give him the silent treatment, but Louis seems to enjoy it, humming to himself, and singing quietly while he moves around the boat. And he doesn’t know what he expected the process of getting ready to sail the boat to be like, but it happens much faster than he would’ve thought. There are a lot of ropes, and more than one sail, and many other things that Harry doesn’t know the name or the purpose of, but eventually Louis tells him to raise the anchor. And then he has to show him how to do it.
The wind catches the sail, and whether or not he knows what he’s doing, Louis smoothly maneuvers them out onto the ocean heading south. It seems easiest to stay out of his way, so Harry does, and water flies past beneath them. They aren’t sailing long before Harry sees his first dolphin. It breaches the surface, swimming alongside the boat and playing in the wake.
“Where the hell are we?” Harry asks the dolphin.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Louis says.
“I was talking to the dolphin.”
“Ooh!” Louis looks over that side of the boat, and says, “Oh, wow…”
Grinning, Harry looks again to find at least six or seven of them playing behind the boat. “So cool. I wonder how long they’ll stay with us.”
Louis shrugs, tightening some rope that Harry would ask the name of, but he doesn’t really care. The wind picks up as they move south, and Harry makes himself wait until he’s absolutely sure they’ve been going the same direction for at least an hour before saying something.
“When do you think we’ll get there?” Harry asks, kicking his bare feet up onto the metal railing behind the bench and laying down.
“Where?” Louis asks, frowning at him and sweeping his arm around in a half-circle. “We’re traveling at about five knots. I figure we’ve gone maybe ten or twelve miles.”
“Oh my god, why’s it so slow?” Harry whines, throwing his arm over his eyes.
“It’s a small sailboat, Harry. Top speed is like, seven knots.”
“What does that mean?”
Rolling his eyes, Louis says, “Not fast enough for you, guaranteed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Craning his neck, Harry scowls at him until he answers.
“Means you’re a spoiled brat,” Louis snaps.
“Fuck you too.”
“I really, really don’t think so.”
“Lame,” Harry retorts. “And boring.”
Louis hums, ignoring him. When Harry opens his mouth to ask again because there’s still no sign of another boat or anything, Louis excitedly says, “Oh! You know what we didn’t try?”
“What?” Harry sits up, ready to do whatever it is.
“You should ask your mom to come get you.”
“Clever,” Harry says, crossing his arms and leaning back to look up at the sky.
They don’t speak to each other until Louis says, “Come hold us steady for a second.”
“No, no, no.” Harry shakes his head and his finger, just to be sure Louis understands he wants nothing to do with the actual operation of the boat.
“Fine. Guess I can piss right here,” Louis says, looking pointedly at Harry, who’s sitting fairly close to him. “You’re into watersports, right?”
Harry stares at him, cheeks heating. Belatedly, he rushes out, “No!”
While Louis snickers, Harry takes the WTFWHEEL and does his best to keep it from spinning out of his hand. As soon as Louis finishes, Harry pees off the back of the boat too.
“Is the wind picking up?” Harry asks.
“Yeah,” Louis says. “Do me a favor?”
Narrowing his eyes, Harry says, “Depends.”
“Go below and, in the little cabinet under the bench, is a pair of binoculars.”
“Oh, okay,” Harry agreed, carefully climbing down the few steps. Right where Louis said they would be, Harry finds them, along with a box of books full of maps that he leaves alone. He climbs back on deck and, instead of handing the binoculars to Louis, he holds them to his eyes and adjusts the focus. “How far do these things see?”
“As far as your eyes do,” Louis answers shortly.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“You should be able to see something about fifteen miles away like it’s right in front of you,” Louis says, reaching a hand out for the binoculars, but Harry doesn’t give them to him.
“I can’t see shit.”
“Take the lens caps off.”
“I did. I mean, all I see is water and trees and some clouds.”
“Give them to me,” Louis insists, and Harry does, rolling his eyes as he sits back down on the bench. With his sunglasses perched on top of his head, Louis holds the binoculars to his eyes. “What the fuck?”
“Right? So weird,” Harry says, taking the binoculars back and looking again. The clouds ahead are much darker than the few wisps of white they’ve seen so far. “What do we do?”
Louis shrugs. “All we can do is keep going south. Eventually we’ll get home.”
“Yeah, but what if we don’t?”
“What?”
“Like, what if this is some parallel universe,” Harry offers, letting his mind wander. “Like an unpopulated world.”
Snorting loudly, Louis shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Harry.”
“Do you think we should be sailing towards those clouds?”
“I… Should we find a place to anchor? Not like we can check the weather, but the last time I looked, the forecast said the past few days were supposed to be cold and cloudy, not warm and sunny, and there weren’t any storms expected.”
“Dunno. Those look like storm clouds to me,” Harry says, pointing at them. “We could stop here. Maybe it’s going inland, and we can wait for it to pass.”
“Storms usually travel up the coast. We could go west. See if we can go around it. Or go north. Try to find a place to dock that way.”
“Go back the way we came?” Harry pouts.
“I don't know, Harry! Would you rather go towards the dark, and what are, frankly, ominous clouds? You’re supposed to tie the fucking boat up during a storm, but I don’t see any docks. Do you?”
“Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Harry gets to his feet, looking south through the binoculars and slowly turning east. The clouds—Louis is right, they are ominous looking—seem to go on forever. There’s no going around them. “What’s north of us?”
“No fucking clue, man.” Louis loosens the sail, and goes below deck, returning before Harry can follow with the box of books and maps. He hands the box to Harry, and folds a map out on the table, pointing to the familiar curve of the coast. “Yeah. See? You swam to the boat here. And the only natural areas around are the few state parks, but even there they have buildings and shit. Like, you can tell people have been there. We’ve traveled for hours, probably close to twenty miles.”
“Wow,” Harry says, maybe he’s dreaming.
While Louis turns the boat around, Harry sits, flipping through an old book of maps, full of expired coupons for restaurants and attractions. On one page, there’s a large picture of a cartoon owl that says ‘Give A Hoot! Don’t Pollute!’ And Harry frowns.
“Have you seen any litter?” Harry asks, putting the book back in the box.
Louis looks over the side of the boat, as if fully expecting to see a plastic bottle floating by. Slowly, he says, “No.”
“You know what?” Harry snaps his fingers, and says, “I bet I knocked myself out when I hit my head and this is just a dream or a hallucination or something.”
“Yeah? What about me?” Louis rolls his eyes, looking over his shoulder at the clouds behind them.
Harry shrugs. “What about you?”
“Why am I in your hallucination? I’d rather not be, so you could just hallucinate me out?”
“I can try,” Harry says, closing his eyes in concentration. While he’s at it, he pictures himself waking up, but neither thing has happened by the time he opens his eyes again. “Maybe if I go to sleep.”
“You do that. Because I might need your help in a little while, and I’d rather you get some rest.” Louis shoos him towards the doors and Harry goes below, curling up on his bed and falling asleep fast.
————
“Up! Wake up, Harry!”
Harry sits up, rubbing his eyes and slowly realizing he’s still on the boat. “Still hallucinating.”
“Nope! Get up here and help me figure out what to do,” Louis orders, stepping up on deck before he finishes talking.
And while it does still feel like it must be a dream or a hallucination, it feels real too. Harry joins Louis up top, looking south, frowning at the clouds in the distance. “Are they closer?”
“Yeah, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Go faster,” Harry says.
“I can’t go any faster.” Louis hands him the binoculars and says, “We can either keep following the coast and hope the storm turns west. We can find a place to anchor, tie the boat up as well as we can, and ride it out below deck. Or we could head east, out to sea.”
“This is like one of those choose your own adventure books,” Harry says, looking back at the storm.
“I think our best bet is to keep going for now, and be on the lookout for a safe place to spend the storm.”
“Then why didn’t you just do that?”
“Because I didn’t want to just make the decision without talking to you. And I’ll need your help, no matter what we do.”
Harry scoffs, crossing his arms and cocking his hip to the side. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Depends. If we keep going? Use the binoculars to scout ahead for an inlet or somewhere we can tie up the boat,” Louis says, pointing to the binoculars in Harry’s hand. “What do you want to do?”
“Keep going. Obviously,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “We’re more likely to find a dock or something, right?”
“Sure,” Louis replies, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe they’ll find anything.
Harry ignores him, looking through the binoculars at the coast, searching for someplace to park. Or whatever. They sail for a few hours, finding a few places that look promising until they get close and they don’t seem deep enough for the boat.
“This sucks,” Harry says, dropping onto the bench. “We’re about to get rained on.”
“We’re about to get caught in a fucking hurricane,” Louis snaps, tightening one of the ropes.
“Are you serious?” Harry turns to look back at the storm. It just looks like a mass of dark grey clouds, but there are sheets of rain visible now.
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s fucking huge. We have to find a place to hunker down.”
Sputtering a laugh, Harry says, “Hunker down.”
Louis stares at him for a moment, then snatches the binoculars from him, looking ahead between doing whatever else he does to the sails and the steering wheel. It probably has an official nautical name, but Harry doesn’t care enough to ask. Instead, he goes below, crawling into bed again.
Hi Maggie! I have some fic questions for “Suddenly, Last Summer”
1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?
15: What did you learn from writing this fic?
I love this fic for many reasons, but the open/ambiguous ending I find endlessly intriguing! Thank you for sharing your writing talents with us!
Thanks, Kelly!! I'm so happy to get this ask about Suddenly Last Summer <3
1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?
I don't remember exactly how the idea of writing something based on An American Tragedy came to me (by the way, 0/10 do not recommend the book, it was originally written as a serial for a newspaper so it drags on and on forever). I feel like the basic plot line is something that's been used in a million things (the movie Match Point comes to mind, but I can't watch it anymore because of the Woody Allen of it all). It feels very soapy, which scratches a specific itch inside my brain. And one thing about me is that I love media about rich people. Actual rich people, not so much, but give me a good Succession to watch any day of the week. I also love things set in the Hamptons. It just seems like rich people heaven or something. So I liked the idea of writing about rich people in this setting, and putting it in Louis' POV instead of Harry's so it could be like a mystery. Breaking a mystery and knowing where and how to plant clues has always appealed to me as a writer. And when I finally realized that I didn't need to include a pregnancy to do it, I could just have someone from Harry's past show up to cast some doubt, it was very smooth sailing from there.
(did that answer the question? to quote Harry, it was words)
15: What did you learn from writing this fic?
I read a lot of mysteries when I was researching and outlining, and I hope I learned about writing one – planting clues kind of felt like having an eye on continuity to me, so it didn't feel too difficult, but I'm way too close to it to know how successful I was. And I do think this experience reinforced the lesson of following your gut – I always knew exactly how it end, and I didn't know how it would play with readers, but it wouldn't have felt complete if I ended it more neatly.
Happy Birthday, Anitra! Thank you for sharing your wonderful talents with us and for all you do for the fandom! I hope you have a great day and that Catty is nice to you!
Here is Louis with a bonus armpit and Loubie staring at you! Enjoy!
Kelly!!!!!! Thank youuu! I just got home from vacation so Catty was actually very happy to see me and even let me hold him without yelling at me! It was short lived and he just took a swipe at me a few minutes ago, but I'll take what I can get lol
And I will definitely take a bonus Louis armpit photo! It took me a min for Loubie...haha
Okay, I saw your answers about your other two WIPs, so I have to ask about “When Harry Met Louis”, because honestly that single phrase is the reason why we are all in this Larry mess to begin with, right? They go into the restroom at the same time or however the story goes of their meeting during the X Factor and now here we all are, haha! They fall madly in love with each other and make it all of our problem! How rude, ha!
So, I am excited to hear what this of Harry meeting Louis story is about!
Hope your week is starting off great and sending huge hugs, as always!
hi Kelly!! I hope you're doing well <3
I was just typing a long answer about this fic here, and since you asked, I'll post a snip!!
“Hey,” Louis says, breaking off a piece of her cookie. “I forgot to ask. What were you talking about with that girl at the bar the other night?”
“What? Oh,” Harry says, wrinkling her brow as she remembers. “Nothing really. I was resting my elbows on the bar while I waited, and she said I had nice hands.”
Louis meets Harry’s eyes, her hands stilling. “She complimented your hands?”
“Yeah.”
Harry rips the wrapping off of her straw and stabs it through the hole in her plastic cup.
“Harry.”
It’s Harry’s turn to still this time. “What?”
“She was hitting on you.”
“What? Why didn’t she just say so?”
“She did,” Louis laughs. “When she complimented your hands.”
“Well, I didn’t know.” Harry sits back, crossing her arms. “How am I supposed to know how to flirt? Jo was my first girlfriend and we were together for years. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Ah,” Louis says, sitting back and rubbing her hands together. “So you’ve come to me for help with flirting.”
Hi! For the soft asks, I don’t think you answered #3 or #13?
Also, when you were talking about your mother in law going home and your relationship with your husband, I just FELT all of that in my being! Like, seriously!
thank you!! I am so glad you understand!!
3. what’s your favorite candle scent?
I actually don't like scented candles! My mom always got migraines when I was growing up, so we never had scented anything in the house and I just got used to it. If I were to choose one, I would probably try vanilla.
13. what’s your comfort food?
Can I just tell you I love fast food, I love potato chips, I love ice cream. Anything bad for me like that!
