The Brother I Never Wanted (Larry AU)

Chapter 3

The sound of thin, small fingers drumming against the black steering wheel fills the silence of the car, gradually becoming more and more annoying and distracting as the anxiety builds in his stomach. Eventually it becomes enough that he has the inescapable urge to reach out and tweak the knob to the radio, turning it up to an audible murmur in the background. Where the f**k is he?

He growls when the tall, lean mop of curls finally bounds out the front door and slides into the passenger side of his car. Does it really take him this long to get ready? This is absurd. If he insists on taking this long, he's going to make him walk from now on.

"Took you long enough," he snarls darkly, shifting gears harshly to back out of the driveway. "I was going to just leave you and make you walk to school."

Harry rolls his gorgeous eyes, flipping down the visor. Louis has to refrain from rolling his own eyes when he opens the mirror to fluff up his hair again. Did he not just do that in the bathroom for thirty f*****g minutes? What could he possibly be fixing now? His hair is already perfect. Well, better than Louis' messy fringe anyway. But, to be fair, Louis didn't spend thirty minutes on his hair.

Louis exhales heavily. He doesn't understand why his dad thought it'd be a good idea to drive his new stepbrother to school. He's obnoxious and acts like the very stereotype of a rich, spoiled brat. Now don't get him wrong, Harry's family does have money, but not as much as he would make you believe. And he knows very f*****g well that they get along about as well as a cat and a dog fighting over meat scraps. So Louis really has no idea what was going through his mind when he forced Louis to agree to the arrangement. At least it's a fairly short ride.

The visor in the corner of his vision is flipped up to hit the ceiling. He briefly lets his gaze flit over to the passenger side. Harry pulls the sunglasses from where they hung on the collar of his white t-shirt and places them on his nose. He may act like the stereotypical, obnoxious rich jerk, but, damn, he makes it look good.

Louis turns his gaze back to the road, running his finger over the steering wheel and tapping his thumb to the rhythm of the music in the background. Maybe it's just him, but the awkwardness seems to be suffocating him. It's hard to say what Harry is feeling with those dark lenses shading his eyes. He's just sitting there quietly, every now and then reaching up to scratch under his eye. It's bizarre. He expected more of a fight from him.

After a couple of minutes, Harry reaches out, nose scrunching, and turns the knob that controls the radio station. Louis ignores it, not really caring. He wasn't really listening to the radio anyway.

But then Harry would pick a station, turn up the music, sit back, and then he'd reach out and change it again. This went on for several minutes. Annoyance builds in the pit of Louis' stomach, his knuckles turning white. He manages to stay silent for a little while before he can't take it anymore.

"Pick one!" he snaps irritably.

Harry snorts, turning it once more just to spite him. "What's stuck up your arse?" His voice is slightly gruffer than he remembers, low from the lack of use since yesterday.

"The fact that I have quite possibly the most annoying step-brother in existence," he retorts hotly. Thankfully, the high school comes into sight then, and Louis turns the wheel sharply to pull into the parking lot.

The right side of his mouth twitches up in a smirk so that that damned crescent indent pops on his cheek. He ruffles his curls cockily, darting a tongue out to lick over his bottom lip. "Your stepbrother is up your arse?"

Louis growls. "Not like that, you f*****g pervert."

Harry just hums lowly in response, a grin slowly replacing his smirk. Louis quickly averts his eyes to swing into an empty parking spot. He really needs to convince his step mom to get Harry his own car or he's going to crash into something just to get Harry to shut up.

"We're here. Now, get the f**k out of my car, you twat."

The fashionable sunglasses are nudged up his nose before he grabs a hold of his bag and swings his long legs out to clamber ungracefully from his car. Louis snickers under his breath as he easily climbs out of the vehicle. The advantage of being short, ladies and gentlemen.

He pretends that struggle didn't affect his swagger, whipping the strap of his bag over his shoulder. And it seems to work. People walking past turn their gazes to whisper and watch as the new boy leans against the side of Louis' car, waiting for Louis to grab his bag from the back and join him at his side. Great. He's going to be another one of those popular people.

They don't say a word to each other. Harry's apparently content with just keeping an indifferent face and following Louis to the office. Louis' not complaining. He knows that as soon as Harry gets his schedule, he's going to disappear and ignore him completely.

As expected, as soon as the piece of paper is handed to the curly-haired boy, he makes for the door with his long legs. The receptionist stops him though, causing him to halt with his hand on the knob. Louis notices for the first time that he's not wearing rings today, and his fingers look extra long.

"Young man, please take off your sunglasses. We're indoors, and they are against our school's dress code."

He slowly reaches up to pull them off his face, and Louis figures he's probably rolling his eyes behind the lenses. He inserts one limb into his shirt so that it rests against his chest like it was this morning. Raising an eyebrow, his hand finds the doorknob again as if asking if he can leave now.

She seems surprised by the sudden exposure of his attractiveness, and she fumbles with the papers on the desk to give Louis a copy. Louis contemplates the thinking behind hiring a twenty year old secretary to run the front desk at a high school, but he takes it from her hands anyway. "Thanks."

"Louis, right?" she asks, eyes darting away from his stepbrother to address him for a second. "Would you show Harry around? He'll probably need some help finding his classes?"

Harry rolls his eyes for real now, groaning in distaste. Louis' not too happy about it either, but he has the decency to keep his protests to himself. And since he's a people pleaser, especially to authority, he smiles tightly and accepts the offer, trying to ignore the pink that flowers up the young girl's neck at his stepbrother's outburst. That's wrong on so many levels.

He rustles the paper with a large exhale and adjusts the strap of his backpack as it becomes heavy. "Let's get this over with."

It takes less than two seconds before Harry is able to throw the door open and drift down the hallway, barely even glancing at his schedule. Louis walks considerably slower, taking a good look at the room number. 305. Let's see. He thinks that'd be down the left wing . . . He looks up and, surprisingly, Harry's already striding that way, his paper down by his side. Louis huffs and jogs after him.

"Do you even know where you're going?"

"I'm going to choir."

Choir? That means he sings, doesn't it? Not that that's really all that surprising considering his deep, enthralling voice. He'd probably make a damn good singer. "You sing?"

"Obviously," he barks as if it's written across his forehead. "If you look, you'll see that I'm actually in advanced choir."

"Jesus, you don't have to be so snippy. It was just a simple question." Maybe he's the one who really has something stuck up his arse. There's no way he could've known that he's a singer unless he has heard him sing before, so he really doesn't know why Harry expects him to just know that about him.

Harry doesn't acknowledge his pleas for a truce, keeping his elongated stride that has Louis half-jogging, half-walking to catch up. The hallways are empty, telling Louis that he's probably already late for first block. Maybe he should just let him find his way. He seems to know where he's going, and Louis' really only breaking a sweat trying to follow him like a puppy. But then Harry slows, eyebrows furrowing as he brings his schedule back up to look at it, and Louis glances at the room number he stopped in front of. 320.

"What the -?"

Louis snorts at his puzzled expression. "There are two hallways, genius." Louis spins on his heel, confident now that he knows approximately where the room is.

He can't say he's ever been down this way before. His main schedule consists of more science and math-like classes which are clear on the other side of the school. This hall is mainly art related courses like art and music. He's not really any good at drawing or singing, so he's stayed away from those kinds of classes.

"Why didn't you say something?" he hisses sharply. "You know, before I walked down the whole length of this hall!"

"I don't take these classes. So I really don't know where I'm going anymore than you do. I just know that we have two hallways for each section."

As soon as Louis turns the corner to the second hallway, Harry is practically right beside him, bumping repeatedly into his shoulder. He can see the number 305 written on the plague by the door at the very beginning of the hallway, and he sighs in relief. Thank God. Louis slows to let Harry pass him, folding the paper up and swinging his backpack down to shove it in a side pocket.

"Great, you found it," he drawls sarcastically. He tosses the strap back on his shoulder, surprised to find that Harry is actually looking down at him. "I'm leaving now."

Louis swivels on his heel and starts towards his chemistry classroom, hoping his teacher won't grill him for being late. He probably has a valid enough excuse for arriving after the bell, but this is his first offense so he's not entirely sure what will happen.

"Thanks, brother."

He glances over his shoulder, easing to a slow shuffle forward. Harry's leaning against the wall by the door, making no move to open the door. His topaz gaze travels down his front then back up, heart-shaped lips curled in a lazy smirk. Louis' throat twitches in a swallow, but he keeps walking as he knows Harry's trying to get on his nerves again.

"Get to class, Styles."

He hears the faint click of the door handle as he continues his journey. However, the creak of the door stops with a small thud, and Louis can't help but look back once more. One of his large converse is shoved against the door of the room, holding it open, and he grins cheekily, ruffling his curls in a way that seems almost flirtatious.

"Hey, Shorty," he calls. "I'll see you after class."

That makes Louis halt. "What? No. I thought your mum was taking you home after school."

"Oh, didn't you hear? I'm trying out for the football team after school."

Dammit. He forgot that his new mum wanted them to play together. s**t, he can't ever escape him. He might actually be excited to go to class just so he can have time away from him.

"Just be ready as soon as practice is over, or I'm leaving without you," is all he says as he turns and makes a break for his chemistry class.