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Harry sighs as the timer dings again, waiting for the guy sitting across from him- Brad- to get up from his seat and move to the next table. He’d barely spoken three words since he sat down, despite Harry’s extensive attempts at making conversation. The guy before this Brad hadn’t shut up, sitting down and immediately starting to talk about his work and his accomplishments without even properly introducing himself. He also hadn’t even bothered to put his name tag on.
The man that replaces Brad somehow manages to be worse, though. He’s leering at Harry from across the table before he’s even all the way in his chair, and Harry immediately wishes he had the other guy back. Having this guy’s - whose name tag reads Todd- attention on him is creeping him out.
He makes polite (well, polite-ish) conversation for their allotted eight minutes and shoos him off the second the time goes off.
“Have a good night,” Harry says, and glances at his watch while Todd takes his time standing up and walking to the next table. He’s been at this speed dating event for around forty minutes, meaning he’s got about three more “dates” before the cocktail hour begins and he’ll be able to get out of here.
Dating hasn’t really been very easy for him, lately, not ever since he moved to London earlier in the year for his job. He’d had terrible luck with online dating and apps, and was too dedicated to his current projects at work to make time to go out to the bars or to try to socialize more than once every few weeks. His coworker- and new friend- Niall had suggested speed dating one day when they were at lunch; Harry had laughed outright because he was sure Niall was pranking him, and then immediately felt bad when he realized Niall was being serious.
“S’not so bad, mate,” Niall had said around a mouthful of sandwich. “S’how I met Z.”
“Wait, really?” Harry had asked, incredulous. He was still a little wary and thought Niall could still be trying to pull one over on him. Niall had been trying to drag him out to “meet people” pretty much since the second they met, but Harry had always found a reason to decline. It’s not that he isn’t social, or interested in dating- but being at a new job in a new city is a lot, and he was still adjusting.
“Been together going on three years,” was Niall’s response. “Best decision ever.”
Which is how Harry had found himself agreeing to try a night of speed-dating. Well- about a week later, after lots and lots of pestering from Niall, he agreed to try a night of speed-dating.
Harry sighs heavily when he hears footsteps approaching his table, sitting back in his chair and resigning himself to another eight minutes of torture. He’s not sure how Niall had lucked out the way he did when he did this whole speed-dating thing, but he’s certainly not having as great of a time. The person approaching had stopped, now, and Harry’s gaze slides over from his watch to a pair of black boots. His eyes travel upward- black skinny jeans, black turtleneck, green plaid jacket, and ultimately finds an amused smile on a very handsome face.
“Um. Hi,” Harry manages, feeling a little dumbstruck. All the other men he’d been matched with tonight hadn’t put forth much effort- Brad had shown up in gym shorts and a t-shirt, for God’s sake- but the man standing in front of him had. Harry swallows, sparing a second to think that if this guy had shown up in gym shorts and a t-shirt, he probably wouldn’t have minded.
“Alright, then?” The man asks, sticking his hand out toward Harry. “I’m Louis.”
Harry’s a bit baffled for a second- all the other men he’d been matched with tonight had just slid into their chairs and started talking- but he recovers and offers his own hand, shaking Louis’. “I’m Harry,” he responds, and gestures to the seat across the table from him. “I’m good, yeah. Sorry. You alright?”
“Fine, thanks,” Louis answers. “So, Harry… is this your first time speed dating?”
“That obvious?” Harry answers with his own question, scrunching his nose.
“Nah,” Louis shakes his head. “I just recognized the panic on your face as the panic I’ve been feeling since I signed up for this damned thing.”
“Oh, thank God,” Harry breathes out a sigh of relief. “I feel so awkward.” He realizes after he says it that he doesn’t feel quite so awkward anymore, actually.
“Right?” Louis responds, and leans forward with his elbows propped on the table. He rests his chin in his hand. “I gotta be honest, though, and I swear I’m not trying to be creepy, okay?”
Harry’s heart falls to the bottom of his stomach a bit. Here it is, here’s the kicker to what has been an otherwise great minute and a half, here’s where all his hope of meeting a decent person goes down the drain-
“It’s not bad!” Louis interrupts his rapidly derailing train of thought. He reaches over and pats at Harry’s wrist where it’s resting on the table, fingers loosely grasping his drink. Harry tries to refocus and notices that Louis is blushing a bit. “It’s just, um- I saw you walk in tonight and was hoping we’d get matched. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Harry manages, dumbly. “You did?”
“Love, have you seen yourself? Of course I did. I’ve been a complete nitwit to my other matches because I kept trying to see how many tables I had left before yours.”
It’s Harry’s turn to blush, now, his cheeks going hot. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Louis says, softly. “I hope that’s not creepy?”
“I just had to sit through eight minutes with Todd,” Harry stage-whispers, cocking his head to his right, towards the table where Todd is now sitting. “Nothing could be creepier than that.”
Louis laughs at that, and it’s only when he raises his hand to cover his mouth that Harry realizes it had still been resting on his arm. He finds that he misses the touch almost immediately.
“Thank you,” Harry says when Louis’ laughter fades. “For the compliment. And for, I dunno… making me feel more comfortable than I’ve felt all night.”
“You’re welcome,” Louis says, offering Harry a soft smile. “Speed dating not your thing?”
“Let’s just say it’s been a bit of a struggle thus far,” Harry admits. “Actually. Dating in general has kind of been a struggle, to be honest. My friend put me up to this.”
Louis quirks an eyebrow, so Harry continues. “I only moved here six- seven?- months ago. New city, new job. Not exactly conducive to dating.”
“No luck with the apps?”
“Oh, God, no,” Harry groans. He leans in a bit, like he’s going to tell Louis a secret. “Listen. I’m not saying I’m against sending, ahem-“
“Dick pics?” Louis interjects.
“Nudes, if you will-“ Harry amends around a laugh. “But I do think they should be solicited. Consensual. I, for one, wouldn’t ever start a conversation by sending one to a complete stranger.”
“Understandable,” Louis agrees. “And agreed. I’ve received my fair share- unexpected, unrequested, all of the above.”
“And then there’s just the whole… never mind,” Harry cuts himself off and feels his cheeks go hot again.
“No, what?”
“I’m gonna sound so lame.” Harry says, and Louis reaches out to pat at his forearm again. He leaves his hand there and waits for Harry to continue. “Okay, fine, it’s just. I’m not just looking for a hookup? And it feels like that’s all anyone online ever wants.”
“One hundred percent agree,” Louis responds. He squeezes Harry’s arm gently. “Why would you think that’s lame?”
“Because I’m only 25 and want something more than a fling? I don’t know. I’m just… not a serial dater.”
“Except for when you go to speed dating and date a handful of guys in one night,” Louis replies, but it’s good natured.
Harry rolls his eyes but can’t stop from smiling. “Yes. Except for when I go to speed dating and date a handful of guys in one night.”
Louis chuckles. “That’s not lame, love. You know what you want.”
“Yeah?” Harry asks, and finds that he really wants Louis not to be scared off by his lack of interest in hookups only.
“Of course,” Louis replies, nodding. “Never been my thing, either, if I’m being honest.”
His relief must show on his face, because Louis smiles at him, corners of his eyes crinkling. Harry feels comfortable poking a bit of fun at Louis now, since they’ve been ribbing each other a bit. “So what’s wrong with you then?” He asks, squinting his eyes and making a show of appraising Louis. “You’re handsome, you’re funny, you don’t want a fling… how does someone like you end up at speed dating?”
Louis scrunches his nose up a bit, smiling, and answers. “Got a mate who’s fairly persistent,” he explains. “Figured the best way to get him off my back was to just give it a go?”
“God. Same,” Harry replies. “Niall kept yammering on about meeting the love of his life here-“
Louis looks at Harry incredulously. “Niall?”
“Yeah, he’s a friend from work- why are you laughing?”
“Cause he’s the mate that pestered me into signing up for this shit, too. Said it had to be this weekend.” Louis leans back in his seat, removing his hand from Harry’s arm- but then his foot brushes against Harry’s under the table. “That absolute shithead.”
“Wait, you’re- you’re Louis. Like. Louis?”
“I believe so,” Louis answers, still smiling across the table at him. He raises an eyebrow when Harry smacks a hand to his own forehead in realization.
“Niall’s been telling me about ‘my mate Louis, you gotta meet him, you guys would hit it off’ for ages.” Harry explains, adding on his version of Niall’s accent and making Louis laugh. “He wanted to set us up on a blind date.”
Louis nods. “Kinda wishing I hadn’t shut him down, now,” he says, and shoots Harry a wink. “But our Lord and Savior Niall Horan works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?”
“He’s ridiculous,” Harry replies, shaking his head. “Wait. Is the whole Zayn thing even true?”
“Oh, he did meet Zayn at one of these things,” Louis nods. “But Zayn wasn’t participating. He was working the bar when Niall ditched the event and went to get a drink instead.”
Harry laughs. He leans in over the table a little more. “You know, I feel like I should be annoyed with him.”
“But you’re not?” Louis asks, and Harry definitely doesn’t miss the hopeful lilt to his voice.
“I’m not,” Harry responds, shaking his head. “I’m really, really not.”
“Good,” Louis replies, and this time when he reaches across the table, it’s to grasp Harry’s hand in his. “Because I’m not, either.”