Young & Beautiful

He stares as Niall begins plucking at the piano keys.
He really, really wants to say yes. Sexy men serving him free drinks all night? Singing Justin
Bieber in a chauffeured car as they hang out of the sunroof? Eating beautiful and delicious cakes
all night?
Fuck.
He hates the rich. He does. This is all shallow. He hates this. Hates it. Hate, hate, hate.
“Of course I want to come, you utter knob!” Louis bursts, slamming fists on the table. “But I
can’t! I have to study, Niall. Stop teasing me,” he whines, and with a disparaging moan, he sinks
his head onto the table.
The twinkle of Chopin lightens the room.
“Next time then, yeah?” Niall says, completely unfazed.
“Yeah,” Louis groans, face smashed into varnished cherry wood. He really hates his life.
They stay like that for awhile, Louis facedown on the dining room table, chips scattered about,
and Niall merrily floating his fingers up and down the keys as he half-watches the TV from across
the room.
And then the music abruptly stops.
“Want to go golfing?” Niall suddenly asks hopping off the stool.
Louis lifts his head—a chip stuck to his cheek—and sees the boy standing before him, hands in
pockets, expectant.
Where was the transition in that?
“I would rather peel my own skin off with a stick,” Louis replies immediately, deadpan.
“Suit yourself!” Niall shrugs, then shoots down the remaining whiskey and bounces to his room.
“I fucking love golf!” he shouts.
Louis merely rolls his eyes before reconnecting his face with the surface before him.
It’s when he hears the shuffling of shoes and the unlocking of the door that his head shoots up
again.
“Where are you going?” he demands, staring at Niall, who is now wearing a gray polo and white
trousers, a cap atop his head. And are those loafers?
“Golfing.”
“What? But it’s half past seven! The sun’ll go down soon—where the hell will you go??”
“I’ll manage,” he says simply, and is just about to exit when Louis pushes himself into a standing
position.
“What about me?!”
“I already invited you.”