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possibly a goat weeping into their beards, accompanied by
    ukelele.

    “Me neither!” Harry protests. “It‟s just that your opinions on pop are
    also terrible. Katy Perry over Beyonce, Lou? Really? Are you even
    human?”

    That starts an argument that lasts the rest of Louis‟ free period and
    continues for days. Louis eventually admits defeat, but that only makes
    Harry more eager to “educate” him. After that, Harry starts bringing in
    a flash drive full of new music for Louis almost every day. Louis just
    34

    thanks him and tries not to think about what Harry could have intended
    when he said they would go to festivals together. That‟s a thing friends
    do, right? And they‟re friends now. So if Louis falls asleep listening to
    the music Harry‟s given him, he‟s just being a good friend. Doing his
    research.

    If he‟s honest, he also finds that some of it is so boring that it provides
    a welcome cure for his occasional insomnia, but he‟s not going to tell
    Harry that.

    There‟s one thing he doesn‟t learn about Harry, though, and it‟s starting
    to drive him slightly mad. It‟s not like it really matters. It shouldn‟t
    matter. But Louis‟ curiosity is killing him. He tries as hard as he can to
    figure it out without outright asking, dropping hints and chances for
    Harry to comment on things, but it never works. The fact remains:
    Harry Styles‟ sexuality is a fucking mystery.

    One afternoon over lunch he manages to manipulate the conversation
    toward their respective sexual histories, angling it like he‟s joking
    around. Zayn is utterly predictable, describing an equal number of men
    and women while looking extremely pleased with his own ability to
    pull, then adding dramatically that nobody has seemed to measure up
    ever since he met Liam. Niall throws a napkin at his face and mentions
    his own knack for picking up American girls at pubs, which they all
    already knew about, and then Harry starts speaking.

    “I dunno,” Harry says, shrugging as he swallows a bite of his sandwich.
    Louis tries very, very hard not to appear to be hanging on every word.
    “I haven‟t really dated anybody since I turned twenty.”

    “But you‟ve slept with people,” Zayn prompts with studied
    nonchalance, and Louis can tell by the way he‟s carefully avoiding his
    eye that Zayn knows exactly what the point of this conversation is.
    Louis honestly forgets sometimes what a good friend Zayn is. He
    should buy him a fruit basket one of these days.

    35

    Harry laughs a little. “Yeah, a few people. You know. Casual stuff.
    None of them were, like, my soulmate, you know? I mean, I liked them
    all, but nothing serious.”

    People. Them. God damn Harry and his fucking aversion to gendered
    words. Louis is going to shove him into a pit of bears.

    He needs to change his approach. If he wants information out of Harry,
    maybe he has to give up some of his own. All right. He keeps his eyes
    closely trained on Harry‟s face, planning to memorize and analyze any
    change in his expression.

    “Soulmates don‟t exist, Harold, no matter how many times Zayn‟s
    wanked to Liam in the shower, so it‟s not surprising you haven‟t found
    yours.” He ignores Zayn‟s affronted shout and continues. “I, like you,
    have sought and found comfort in the realm of casual sex, and haven‟t
    found a single gentleman worth committing to in years.”

    So there it is. Out there. His eyes didn‟t leave Harry‟s face the entire
    time he was speaking, and he observed, well, nothing. Not a damn
    thing. Not a flicker, not a blink, not a twitchy fucking eyebrow. Either
    Harry Styles has the poker face of a boulder or he really just does not
    give a shit about who other people fuck. Overall, one of Louis‟ least
    traumatic yet most aggravating coming-outs.

    “That‟s because you‟re a cynical dick, though,” Niall says.

    Louis finally shifts his attention away from Harry to bat his eyelashes
    at Niall. “Oh, sweetie, you