Louis' POV

The next day, me and Harry stay at the lake. There’s this small path to a place where no one hangs out.

It’s only us two.

He’s looking extra pretty today. His lips are so pink, so kissable.

We’re sitting there, throwing stones onto the pretty water surface.

“My dad asked something yesterday”, Harry says, “If I wanted to talk to him about you.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know what he meant exactly. But he said he’d always love me.”

“Even if?”

“Even if I kissed a boy, or something. I think he wouldn’t mind that.”

I try not to gasp because Harry has thought about this too, fuck, he might’ve thought about kissing boys, about kissing me.

My stomach is spinning.

“Would you kiss a boy?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone”, he says and then he nods as an answer to my question.

I’m really unsure how to react.

I lean forward just a little. He leans forward too. Our lips brush once.

Again, and again. Then I press mine to his and holy shit, I’m dizzy.

It doesn’t last long before he’s pulling away again but his lips are softer than I imagined his curls tickled my forehead and his eyes are closed when he pulls away.

I think he’s an angel. An angel from space, maybe.