This is by far my favorite part out of all of them, so I hope you like it too :)

Thank you for the comments on the last chapter, keep them coming :D

Enjoy !

-

After the night in the drunk tank, Harry finds out that Liam had the decency to go back to the club in the morning, and even though it was closed, he managed to get the coats and personal belongings back to everyone.

Harry and Louis don’t meet up for a study session the following week after the whole brawl incident, because Louis has practice more often than usual, given the fact that they’re going to travel to Louisiana at the end of the week for the third game of the season to see if they will qualify to the quarter finals.

Which also means that the campus will be quieter than usual because the frat boys (except Zayn and two more) will be out of town, as well as more than half of the sorority.

It all goes downhill, though, when Liam comes into their dorm on Wednesday, two days before leaving for Louisiana, all sweaty and smiling.

“What are you so smiley about?” Harry asks him and closes his laptop.

“Please don’t hate me.”

“Oh my God, what did you do?”

“Well. You know how the team photographer-Joshua something- got kicked out of school last year for not attending classes?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, coach just announced that we need a new photographer ASAP to come with us this weekend and take some shots for the paper-“

“No.”

“Harry.”

“No. Please tell me you did not sign me up just because I own a camera and because I once said that I’d like to be a photographer instead of a psychologist.”

“Well-maybe. It’ll be fun, come on! You’ll get your own room, all your expenses are paid, and you get to come party with us after the win!”

“And what if we lose?”

“We can’t afford to think like that right now. If we lose this game, then we won’t qualify for the USA College Cup. Come on Harry, pleaseeee?”

“Alright, alright,” Harry says.

“Yes, you’re the best! I’ll let coach know tomorrow at practice. We leave on Friday at ten so we can be there at six for dinner at the hotel restaurant.”

“Sure.”

Liam is about to go in the shower, but Harry calls his name.

“Yeah?”

“You’re buying my drinks when we go out after the win though.”

“Deal.”

Harry smiles and opens his laptop to start on his psychology 101 paper that’s due next week, since he won’t get to write it this weekend.

-

On Friday, Harry wakes up to Liam shaking him repeatedly.

“What time ‘sit?”

“It’s half past seven, come on, you have to pack.”

“I thought we were leaving at ten.”

“We are, but it’s going to take some time for you to pack everything you have, and then for you to take a shower while I unpack everything you packed because you won’t need half the stuff.” Liam replies.

“Good point.”

Harry waits two more seconds before he finally gets out of his bed with a long sigh. Why did he even agree to everything?

Well, he didn’t agree to it per se, Liam didn’t really give him much of a choice. Nevertheless, he always has a good time with some players on the team.

Harry ends up packing half of his closet into his medium-sized suitcase, as per usual. He knows he probably won’t need four pairs of jeans and five t-shirts, but he always likes to be prepared. Ever since that one time about twelve years ago during summer camp when he accidentally packed only five pairs of underwear and - well, he’d rather not think about it.

Better safe than sorry, that’s what he always says, and so far it has worked just fine.

When he comes out of the shower, dressed in a pair of black jeans, and a simple white t-shirt, Liam has already finished unpacking and re-packing his suitcase for him. He’s been doing that ever since Harry wanted to bring three suitcases last year for spring break in Miami.

“Thanks.”

“Always.”

After that Liam goes to shower and Harry tries to write a few more words on his paper that’s only half done. He’ll probably fall behind on it, so he wonders how Louis must be doing with it.

Does Louis even know we have a paper due next week? Jesus.

He plans on asking Louis about it when they get on the bus. Even though he’s never travelled with Louis anywhere (not even on spring break. Louis went home last year), Harry knows Louis is the type of guy who sits in the very back of the bus with a few more boys who laugh and make dirty jokes so loud everyone, even the driver, hears them.

Liam comes out of the shower a few minutes later, looking really happy (Harry doesn’t even want to think about what went on in the shower during those fifteen minutes), and after he zips his suitcase shut, he tells Harry they can fetch McDonald’s breakfast just in time.

Although Harry isn’t much of a McDonald’s fanatic, he agrees because his stomach is growling and he knows Liam probably won’t like the idea of them getting expensive drinks and food from Starbucks.

They head to McDonald’s with their suitcases in hand, and even though it looks ridiculous, they’re both starving and all they care about is getting some food in their mouths.

Harry orders a McFlurry and a Happy Meal, and he knows it must look ridiculous for a six foot tall man to order off the kid’s menu, but that’s the only thing he actually likes from McDonald’s. Unlike Liam, who orders two BigMac’s and a large portion of fries with coke on the side.

They sit down at the first table they see and eat everything they ordered in a matter of minutes. Liam waits for him once they’re done so he can wash his hands, and then they’re back on their way to the parking lot next to the stadium, where they’re supposed to meet up with the rest of the team.

The first one who spots them is of course Louis, who immediately exclaims his unpleasant surprise to see Harry there with a suitcase in hand.

“You didn’t know he was coming?” Liam asks.

“No, I did not.”

“Coach said that at least three times during practice this past week.”

“Well I failed to hear it.”

“Couldn’t hear all the way down there?” Harry asks and Louis grits his teeth.

“Oh what a pleasant weekend this will be.” Coach says from a few feet away, where he’s chatting with Niall and Bryan.

“So what is he doing here anyway?”

“He’s going to be our photographer this year.”

“What?” he and Louis ask at the same time.

This year? Harry certainly didn’t agree on a whole year of photographing the football team.

“That wasn’t-“

“Yeah he knows. And he’s excited about it,” Liam interrupts him, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry throws him a confused look but Liam squeezes his shoulder, so he just smiles and nods.

It’s only a few minutes later that they pile into the bus and Harry ends up sitting in the back, on the same row with Niall, Liam, and of course, Louis.

Zayn isn’t coming with because (a.) he’s not on the team, and (b.) apparently he has a paper due Monday and he can’t risk not writing it.

It’s pretty unfortunate that Harry ends up between Louis and Niall, because Louis and Bryan apparently both want to sit next to the window and Niall has something important to talk to Bryan about.

Harry tries ignoring Louis for the majority of the trip, but he snaps when Louis doesn’t turn down his loud annoying music while Harry is trying to read his book.

He taps Louis on the leg, which makes him look up at Harry, without taking out his earbuds.

“Can you turn down the volume? Not everyone likes your rock music.”

“WHAT?” Louis loudly asks, just so he can annoy Harry.

“Turn down the music!” Harry repeats, this time louder, and he’s sure Louis can hear him by now.

Louis shrugs and points to his ear, not doing as Harry asked. So it’s natural for Harry to snap and violently snatch the earbuds out of Louis’ ears.

“What the actual fuck?”

“If you won’t turn down your music, I’ll do it for you.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

“No, you wi-“

“Styles! Tomlinson! Is there something wrong?” Coach yells from the front of the bus, and everyone turns to look at them.

“He’s-“ Louis starts but Coach interrupts him.

“Stop acting like five year olds and behave, or else I’ll move both of you here in front with me!”

Harry sighs and Louis pouts, both of them leaning back into their seats with no other word. They really are behaving like children.

They end up in the front of the bus an hour later anyway, after Louis tries stretching his legs out over Harry’s lap so he can sleep with his back against the window and Harry doesn’t like the idea at all.

The following two hours are spent in agonizing silence, listening to Coach and Mr. Hoover (the assistant coach) talk about game strategies and upcoming games, which is completely and utterly uninteresting - at least on Harry’s part.

They check in at Alexander Fulton hotel at five o’clock sharp, two people in a room, except for Harry, who gets his own double room all to himself.

At least one good thing came out of this whole ordeal, he thinks as he sits down on his king sized bed with his suitcase at the foot of the bed.

The bathroom isn’t much, but he doesn’t even need anything more than a shower and a toilet. He just needs a place to take a quick nap before the dinner that’s going to take place in the hotel restaurant at seven.

Before he lays down he picks his clothes for the dinner; a black button down to match his jeans and his white converse that he hasn’t worn in ages but for some reason Liam packed them.

After that he finally gets into bed and sets his alarm to ring in an hour so that he can get to dinner in time.

When he wakes up from his nap there is someone already knocking on his door, so he gets out of bed and makes a huge effort to walk all the way over there.

“Yeah?” he asks and is not at all surprised when he sees Niall and Louis standing there, already dressed up.

“It’s five to seven, what are you doing? Coach will kill us if we’re late. He has a speech to deliver and he needs all of us to be at the table.”

“But I’m not on the team,” Harry replies and turns around to go and look for his clothes, leaving the door open.

“Thank God for that,” he hears Louis mutter.

“I slept through my nap alarm.”

Harry ignores Louis’ snarky comment completely and changes his shirt, then puts on his shoes. Five minutes later, they’re all on their way to the elevator to join the rest of the team for dinner.

Coach stands up after they all got their drinks and toasts to a new season that they’ll hopefully win, and after a long speech of crushing the other team’s balls and making them regret they were ever born, they order their food.

Two hours later, he’s surprised to see that none of the players actually intend to go out, instead they are all going to their rooms without any cheerleaders or girls on their arm.

“Why isn’t anyone in the mood for clubbing?”

“Everyone is in the mood for clubbing - trust me. But there’s a rule that says we can’t leave the hotel on the night before a game, or else we’ll be too tired or hungover for practice and the game,” Liam tells him while they’re on their way back to their rooms.

“Oh. Right.”

“You can go out though. You don’t have to show up to practice tomorrow.”

“Well I need to take photos for the paper, remember?”

“Anyway. See you tomorrow then, okay? Nine o’clock, breakfast.”

“Right. Goodnight.”

-

The next day is busy for the players and the cheerleaders, because they have practice after practice after practice, and the cheerleaders (although Harry still hasn’t figured out when soccer teams got cheerleaders - but hey, it’s college) need to perfect their routine.

Harry is sitting on the bench next to Coach, who has to take a small pause from yelling at Louis to run faster and kick the ball to someone else once in a while. It’s useless, and Harry’s 100% sure Louis drank last night, in spite of the pre-game no-fun rule.

Assistant coach Hoover took over for him, so Coach (Harry always wondered why no one ever called him by his first or last name - they always called him Coach) was drinking from a bottle that was already half empty, running his hand through his sweaty hair and complaining.

“Move your ass Tomlinson! Stop whining and pass the fucking ball to offense!”

Louis does just that, but with no enthusiasm at all which doesn’t please Coach at all.

“May I ask you a question?” Harry asks and Coach turns his head to look at him.

“Sure.”

“If Louis is so horrible at playing why name him captain? Why not Niall, or someone else more dedicated.”

Coach sighs. “That’s a question a lot of people have asked me over the years, ever since he applied for a scholarship.”

“Louis is on a scholarship?”

Coach nods.

“I didn’t know that.”

“There are many things people don’t know about Louis Tomlinson. You know why I chose him for the scholarship?”

Harry shakes his head, waiting for a short answer like ‘because I had no other choice’ or something like that, but the monologue that follows is unexpected.

“Every single year, three players leave while three join the team, one of them being here on a scholarship. It works like this; the dean of admissions manages the application letters and the two-page essays about why someone would want to attend FSU on a scholarship, and why they need said scholarship. Then he divides the sport scholarships from the rest of the applications, and hands them out to each division. It get about three hundred applications a year, from which I can only choose one.”

“And you chose Louis?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t think he had a way with words.”

“He doesn’t. His envelope was the thinnest of all. He had the essay, hand-written, which is rare, his application form, his extremely short resume, and his recommendation letter from a teacher that didn’t even spell his name right.”

“So why’d you pick him?”

“The essay had to be two pages long with an answer to the question: ‘Why do you want a soccer scholarship’? Simple as that. Most of the people who applied wrote at least two pages on the computer, but Louis wrote two words. ‘I don’t’.”

“That’s what he wrote? I don’t? Jesus.”

Harry thinks back on the embarrassing four-page long essay about why he wanted to get into college and study psychology. He wrote about his past, and why he wanted to understand people and their problems; basically everything about him. That’s why he got in; the dean of admissions probably took pity on him.

“I called him for an interview and I knew he was surprised about it. He obviously didn’t expect any of this. So he came all the way from Atlanta for an interview, dressed in a rented suit, which looked ridiculous now that I think about it. He told me about his childhood, how he lived in England until high school when his parents divorced but that’s nothing I should get into. Let me tell you something. I know that you and Tomlinson don’t get along because he’s got too much pride and you probably do too - I don’t know you. The interview is what made me pick him out of all the other kiss-ass applicants. I didn’t choose him out of pity or anything like that. I chose him because he spoke to me with such passion and motivation. He’s an ambitious one, but seems lazy because he only makes an effort for things he truly cares about. He knows that his scholarship will get annulled if he doesn’t pass his classes with at least a C, so that’s why he’s one of the few players who bother showing up to classes from time to time. He knows the world isn’t made out of sunshine and rainbows, and even though he doesn’t seem to, he tries, he really does, to take the team to the top.”

Harry is surprised, and completely speechless by what Coach just told him. He never expected to hear this about Louis from anyone, let alone his soccer coach.

“That’s why I’m always focused on yelling at him and trying to determine him to make an effort. All the other guys are at their best when they play, so I don’t bother with them that much. But Louis never gives everything he has, although he’s the best player on the team. I know him, I’ve known him for four years, and if he believed in himself as much as I believed in him, he’d be the one of the best.”

“Does he know you have this opinion of him?”

“Oh no. And I hope he never will. Because that’s why he keeps trying and pushing himself, and that’s all I need for him to do. I need to him realize how capable he is on his own. No one can make you the best but yourself. He doesn’t think much of himself, but he has faith in others. That’s why I made him captain, because even though he can’t motivate himself, he can motivate his team.”

Harry doesn’t say anything after that for a while, because he’s watching Louis run after the ball across the field. His opinion of Louis may just have changed a bit.

“He wants to be a drama teacher though, not follow the whole sport thing.”

“I know, I was disappointed when he told me. He can do so much more with his life, but I’m not here to make him into something he doesn’t want to be. I’m here to make him the best he can be on the field. Being the best he can be is up to him.”

“How can you make someone realize they amount to so much more than they know they’re capable of?”

“Oh you can’t. They need to know how much they’re worth on their own.”

Harry runs his fingertips over the top of his camera. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he’s really thankful when Coach gets up from the bench and walks back towards the field to yell some more.

He then begins to take photos of the team practicing, the cheerleaders rehearsing their routine, and he even gets a perfect shot of the Coach in mid-yell, when he scolds Louis for missing a shot.

-

The game starts at six, and it’s not even thirty minutes in that the opposite team scores a goal. Coach is already running up and down the field swearing, and Harry can hear it all the way from where he’s standing at the corner of the pitch, even over the almost-full college stadium filled with Louisiana Wildcats supporters.

When the game reaches the 85th minute, Louis calls for a time out and walks over to the benches together with his teammates, glancing at the scoreboard that shows 2-2.

Harry doesn’t hear what he tells his team, but he can see that everyone is nodding and getting worked up by whatever they’re hearing, so he takes a few photos.

When they return to the pitch and the whistle blows, the team plays like Harry’s never seen them play before. They score another goal in the last minute, and once a whistle announces the end of the game, the team and the cheerleaders invade the pitch, yelling and happily screaming for the qualification in the quarterfinals. It’s not as important as the winning of the final of course, but they’re moving towards it.

And Harry finds himself actually happy that he ‘volunteered’ to become the photographer for the team this season, because he enjoys seeing people happy about something they worked hard for.

-

They get back to the hotel at eight, and everyone is busy showering and getting dressed for celebratory drinks at the club a few blocks away.

Harry keeps his black jeans on but changes in a white V-neck and puts on way too much cologne than actually necessary.

He meets up with the rest of the group in the lobby at half past eight, and by nine they’re already in line to get into a club Coach made a reservation for.

They have a joined tab, which will be paid by the NCAA as a way to congratulate them for the qualification.

Harry feels strangely good about himself in the booth with the rest of the team, so he agrees to do a line of three Tequila shots each with them.

Louis is the one who excitedly counts down each shot, and Harry can already feel himself buzzing when he throws back the third one.

Harry suddenly gets the urge to dance, so he follows a couple of the guys and girls towards the dancefloor, since a really upbeat Aoki song just started playing.

It’s not long before he finds someone to dance with; a tall blonde guy with his hair pulled up in a quiff who smells really good and apparently has no personal boundaries, judging by the way he’s holding Harry by the hips as he presses his chest to his back.

He kind of looks familiar, but Harry doesn’t ask about it. He’s taller than Harry, muscular, and he smells good, so who cares?

“What’s your name?” the guy asks into his neck, sending shivers up Harry’s spine.

“Harry.”

“I’m Jay. I saw you on the pitch today.”

“What?”

Harry turns around surprised, and now he remembers the guy. He’s a player from the opposite team.

“Photographing?”

“Oh…yeah. Nice…game.”

“Please. We sucked ass today.”

“Based on the way you’re touching me, I think you actually might like that.”

And wow, okay. Harry isn’t the flirty type at all, but it seems like Tequila has some sort of effect on him, since he gets a warm feeling in his gut and more courage to talk to Jay.

“How’d you figure?” Jay smiles and asks him if he wants another drink on him, so Harry follows him to the bar, hand in hand with him.

Jay orders a Vodka soda for both of them, and that’s when Harry knows he won’t get through the night without doing something even remotely sexual with this guy.

“So how come you’re out and about after such a bad game?”

“I’m not going to sit around and cry about it like the rest of the guys. We knew from the start that we wouldn’t win because Tomlinson is the best in college soccer by far. Has a really good ass too.”

“I know,” Harry finds himself saying before he takes a long sip.

“You think he’d be in for a threesome?”

“Uh…I don’t know. I don’t think he’s gay really.”

“Please. I’m not one for stereotyping, I mean, look at me, but judging by the way he walks and talks he’s at least bisexual or extremely feminine.”

“That’s rude.”

Jay shrugs and Harry is about to call him an asshole, but then the guy just leans forward and presses their lips together.

Harry is taken aback for a second, but responds to the kiss and soon enough he’s down from his stool and following Jay to the bathrooms.

Jay ends up on his knees then, and after giving Harry one of the best blowjobs of his life, he asks him if he wants to come back to his place.

“Uh…I don’t know.”

Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, Harry is thinking about who is going to take care of Louis and make sure he gets back to the hotel in one piece, because he knows that by now, since it’s already been a couple of hours since they got to the club, he’s probably drunk and slurring into someone’s ear.

“Well, I can give you my number if you change your mind. The night’s still young.”

Harry nods and waits for Jay to type his phone number into his phone, and then they walk in different directions once they get out of the bathroom.

Almost everyone is back at the booth when Harry gets there, in different states of drunkenness. Louis, as expected, is the drunkest out of them all, leaning over Niall and Barbara’s lap, mumbling something about wanting a bit of water and somewhere to lie down.

“I think it’s time we go,” Harry suggests and everyone agrees.

They pile into cabs this time, since the bus driver didn’t come with them to the club, and fifteen minutes later they’re in a queue by the elevators, waiting to finally go back to their room.

Niall takes Louis to the room they share, and Barbara comes along with them, so Harry says goodnight and goes back to his room.

He takes his clothes off so he’s only in his briefs, and then goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he finally gets into bed.

He’s on his phone, texting with Zayn, when someone knocks.

“Who is it?”

“Meeee.”

Harry sighs when he recognizes Louis’ wasted voice, so he gets out of bed and pads over to the door to open it. Louis is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless in just his tight skinny jeans.

“Hi,” Louis says and walks in past Harry, wobbling and stumbling, all the way to Harry’s bed, where he slumps down on his back.

“Hi?”

After he closes the door, Harry goes to the bathroom to get him a glass of water. He’s a bit tipsy himself, but definitely not to the point where he might throw up or be hungover the next day.

“Thanks,” Louis says and sits up to drink.

“What are you doing here?”

“Barbara and Niall thought it would be a good idea if they began fucking on the bed with me semi-passed out right next to them.”

Harry shakes his head and sits down on the other side, turning on the lamp on the bedside table to shine some light through the room.

“I saw you making out with that Louisiana player tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you fuck in the bathroom?”

“No. He just sucked me off.”

“Was he any good?”

“Yeah.”

“Funny.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“He said that he wanted us to have a threesome.”

“With who?”

“With you, idiot.”

“Oh,” Louis slurs and then laughs.

“But I told him you don’t swing that way, even though he was fairly convinced you are gay, based on the way you look and act.”

Louis rolls his eyes and drops the glass to the floor in a poor attempt to place it on the bedside table.

“Well, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you’re gay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And gay.”

Harry looks at him, confused. Louis doesn’t say anything else; he just gets under the covers and asks Harry to turn off the light because he’d like to sleep.

Harry does as asked, and then gets under the blanket too, turning on his side to face Louis.

“So you’re gay.”

“Yeah. But shhhh,” Louis whispers and presses a finger to Harry’s lips. The finger smells like cigarettes, so Harry grips into his wrist and pulls his hand away.

“You can’t tell anyone. Not even Harry.”

“I am Harry.”

“I knooow,” Louis giggles, looking at the wrist that Harry is still holding.

“Just go to sleep. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Can I tell you another secret?”

Harry sighs, “Sure.”

“Come closer.”

Harry leans closer at the same time Louis does, so Louis can whisper something into his ear.

“I’ve never kissed a boy, but I’ve been fucked by one.”

“How does that work?” Harry asks.

He doesn’t get his answer though, because Louis is already kissing him with an open mouth and tongue.

To say that Harry is surprised and shocked at once would be the understatement of the century.

“Kiss me back,” Louis demands in a pouty voice when Harry doesn’t react.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“Alright,” is all Harry can say before he’s leaning forward and kissing Louis, pushing him on his back.

Their tongues meet in a matter of seconds, and even though Harry would never admit it, Louis is an amazing kisser. Just the right amount of deep and aggressive. He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes but Harry likes it.

Harry cups the side of his face and puts a leg between Louis’ to get closer to him. The kiss makes something ignite in the pit of Harry’s stomach, and he knows that if he doesn’t fuck Louis soon, he will explode from all the hatred that’s built up inside of him.

Louis spreads his legs so Harry can fall between them and they continue kissing while Harry messily ruts against him, despite having just had an orgasm not even an hour earlier.

Louis’ legs lock around his waist and he turns his head to the side so Harry can lick and mark him up. And Harry does just that, until he realizes that Louis’ breaths are now even.

“What the-seriously?”

Louis is asleep.

“Great.”

But Harry rolls off of him and adjusts himself in his briefs, deciding against jerking one off. Instead, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep, confused about what just happened.

--

Please let me know what you'd like to happen next, I always love reading your comments :D

Updates will be on Saturday @ 5pm Uk time from now on!

Thank you so much for reading :)

xoxo,

Ronnie