Louis’ heart races a million miles a minute. He already wishes it was Sunday instead of Friday, wishing he and Harry were alone, Louis showing Harry how to plant flower seeds properly, or Harry showing Louis around his house, or anything other than this cursed school. He’s twenty-six years old, still wears overalls to school, and still fantasizes about the only man he’s let himself feel anything serious for.
“Yeah, a date,” he repeats, and with the way Harry’s eyes light up, Louis already knows he’s in too deep.
He honestly doesn’t mind.