Desire | Larry Stylinson

Six

"I thought you didn't want people clogging down your Instagram with dating rumors?" Harry pointed out, a smirk painting his face. "I didn't see a posting where you were denying it."

Louis gulped, not wanting to really tell him the truth. "I figured it wouldn't much matter if I denied it or not. Figured it would only make things worse because they would view it as some type of damage control or summat."

Harry nodded his head as they walked through the surprisingly calm airport. "Did they train you on how to be a closeted groupie at retail camp?"

"Fuck you. I'm not your groupie," Louis responded. "If anything, you're my groupie."

"Mm. How so?" Harry quizzed.

"You had sex with me, you followed me home from New York, you followed me here from London, you're following me to my destination...it's like you're obsessed with me or something," Louis explained with a teasing tone.

"Color me guilty," Harry smirked before veering off and going a different way.

Louis stopped, most certain that his face fell to a pale white as he followed him down the corridor. "What?"

"What? I didn't say anything," Harry said cheekily.

"You give me migraines," Louis scoffed.

Louis found it kind of odd that Harry was acting like their disagreement at the beginning of their flight hadn't happened. He also found it extremely odd that he was flirting with him. Maybe that was just the way that Harry was and Louis never saw that side of him. He couldn't say that he didn't like it because he actually did. As much as it got under his skin, it secretly was a turn on for lack of a better term. The thought of Harry doing something that Louis liked....that gave him an uneasy feeling, but at the same time, he welcomed it.

"How am I getting to the hotel?" Louis asked.

"Who said anything about a hotel?" Harry countered, a bemused smirk on his face.

"That's usually where you sleep when you go on holiday. Wait, I bet they call it a resort in yuppie land," Louis sassed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Resorts are getaways, you dolt. We're not staying at a hotel. We're staying at my penthouse. Saves money that way."

"Since when are you worried about saving money?" Louis snorted.

"Since my mum taught me the importance of money when I was fifteen," Harry shot back.

"I'm not staying with you. I'll spend my wad on a hotel room," Louis scoffed.

"Please, swallow your pride for a minute. The place is big enough for both of us to live without even running into each other," Harry responded, not having Louis' bad attitude.

"I don't care. You're lucky I survived that long of a flight with you," Louis sassed, ending his remarks with a flirtatious smirk.

"You're such a shithead," Harry blushed, grabbing Louis' arm as he pulled him towards the awaiting black Range Rover.

Harry ran around to the driver's side, thanking the valet and giving him a handful of perfectly straight bills. Louis pretended not to see how much cash was in the man's hand - forty dollars - and proceeded to open the trunk of the boujee car. He threw his luggage in the back, trying not to think about how his duffel bag looked like a tattered homeless man compared to the perfectly clean interior. With a deep inhale, Louis went to the front seat and climbed in, waiting for Harry.

He grabbed out his phone, his entire lock screen filled with Instagram notifications. Most of them were mentions in comments on Harry's post. The comments didn't really affect him anymore, oddly enough. It hadn't been that long of a time frame, which struck Louis with surprise.