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The beauty room was quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound accompanying Y/N as she wiped away the remnants of her make-up. The day had been long and emotionally draining, her mind replaying every interaction, every glance, every word. Harry’s behaviour, or rather lack thereof, gnawed at her. She’d seen him laughing with Sophia earlier, their heads bent close as if sharing a secret, and the sight had felt like a knife twisting in her chest.
The door creaked open, and Y/N’s eyes flicked up to the mirror. Harry stood there, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts, his usual confident demeanour replaced by something hesitant. She turned back to the mirror, focusing on her reflection as she continued wiping off her make-up.
“Y/N,” he started, his voice soft but steady. “Can we talk?”
Ah, Harry. The king of timing. Nothing like waiting until the absolute worst moment to finally address the elephant in the villa
She didn’t respond immediately, finishing with her make-up wipe before tossing it into the bin. Finally, she turned to face him, arms crossed. “Talk about what, Harry?”
He took a tentative step forward. “About today. About… everything.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression guarded. “Now you want to talk? After ignoring me all day?”
Harry winced, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I just… I didn’t know how to approach you.”
“Approach me?” she repeated, her tone sharp. “Harry, you’re my partner. We’re supposed to be in this together. And yet, you’re off entertaining Sophia while I’m left wondering where we stand.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly, his voice rising slightly. “She asked me to go on the date. I didn’t have a choice.”
“And after the date?” Y/N shot back. “Did you have a choice then? Because you chose not to come talk to me. You chose to avoid me, Harry.”
He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You’re right. I should’ve come to you. I should’ve explained everything, but I was… scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Of making things worse,” he admitted. “I knew you were upset, and I thought if I gave you space, it might help. Clearly, I was wrong.”
Y/N’s gaze softened slightly, though her stance remained firm. “You can’t just shut me out, Harry. That’s not how this works. If we’re going to survive in here, we need to communicate. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
He nodded, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. “You’re right. I messed up, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored or unimportant because you’re not. You’re the only one I care about in here, Y/N.”
Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of insincerity but finding none. Slowly, her arms uncrossed, and she let out a sigh. “Do you like her, Harry?” she asked suddenly, her tone firm. “And I mean be straight with me. No bullshit.”
Harry froze, his eyes darting away as he hesitated. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted after a long pause. “I like spending time with you, Y/N. But I… I guess I just want to keep my options open for now.”
“Ah, the classic ‘keep my options open.’ Translation: I like you but not enough to close the shop.”
Her expression faltered for a moment, the bluntness of his words cutting deeper than she expected. She straightened, her walls going up again. “Right. Well, thanks for being honest, I suppose,” she said, her voice quieter but edged with hurt. “But don’t expect me to wait around while you figure out your options, Harry. I’m not a backup plan.”
“Backup plan? Y/N isn’t even the plan—she’s the main event, Harry!”
Harry’s face fell. “Y/N, it’s not like that—”
“Then what is it like?” she interrupted, meeting his gaze with a steely resolve. “Because right now, it feels like I’m the one doing all the work to keep this going. And if you’re not all in, maybe we’re wasting our time.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond but faltered, unable to find the right words. Y/N shook her head, turning back to the mirror. “You know where I stand. Prove to me that I’m wrong about you, Harry. Otherwise, don’t bother.”
For the first time that day, Harry didn’t know what to say.
The next morning, Y/N and Chloe were sprawled out on yoga mats on the villa terrace, catching their breath after finishing a Pilates YouTube video. The sun bathed the terrace in a warm glow, and the faint sound of birds chirping added to the calmness of the scene. Y/N wiped her forehead with a towel, her expression distant.
“Nothing like a bit of Pilates to stretch the legs and spill the tea.”
Chloe noticed immediately. “Alright, spill. You’ve been quiet all morning. What’s going on?”
Y/N sighed, sitting up and crossing her legs. “It’s Harry,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “Last night, we had a chat. I asked him straight up if he liked Sophia, and do you know what he said?”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“He said he wants to keep his options open,” Y/N said, her voice cracking slightly. “I mean, what am I supposed to do with that? I feel like an idiot for even caring at this point.”
Chloe sat up, her face serious. “Y/N, listen to me. You cannot let him see you sweat. If he wants to keep his options open, fine. Let him. But you need to act like you couldn’t care less about him or Sophia.”
Y/N frowned. “Easier said than done. I don’t know if I can just switch off how I feel.”
“You don’t have to switch it off,” Chloe said, her tone firm but encouraging. “You just have to fake it for now. Trust me, guys like Harry hate feeling like they don’t have control. If you act unbothered, it’ll throw him off completely. And in the meantime, you’ll give yourself space to figure out what you actually want.”
“Chloe, handing out advice like smoothies. And she’s not wrong. Nothing shakes a lad like a girl who’s unbothered.”
Y/N bit her lip, considering Chloe’s words. “So, what? Just pretend like I don’t care?”
Chloe nodded. “Exactly. Smile, laugh, chat with everyone else, and don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you upset. Time will do the rest.”
A small smile broke through Y/N’s conflicted expression. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” Chloe admitted with a grin. “You’ve got this.”
Y/N took a deep breath, the weight on her chest feeling slightly lighter. “Alright. Let’s see how unbothered I can be.”
Chloe laughed, nudging her playfully. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we reward ourselves with a smoothie?”
Harry stood at the kitchen counter, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. The morning sun streamed through the villa’s glass doors, casting a warm glow over the open-plan space. Lucas joined him, rubbing sleep from his eyes and grabbing a mug from the cupboard.
“Nothing like a cuppa first thing,” Lucas muttered, pouring hot water into his mug. He turned, leaning against the counter, and nodded toward the terrace where Y/N and Chloe were mid-stretch, their workout mats rolled out on the tiled floor. “Well, they’re looking pretty good this morning, aren’t they?”
Harry chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. “Yeah, they’re putting in the work, that’s for sure.”
Lucas tilted his head, watching Chloe as she effortlessly moved through a set of lunges. “Chloe’s got some legs on her, mate. Proper strong. Bet she could kick a ball further than me.”
Harry snorted. “Wouldn’t be hard. Your kick’s shocking.”
Lucas smirked but didn’t argue, his eyes still on Chloe. “Fair play, though. She’s got this, like, natural confidence about her. Proper attractive, you know?”
Harry raised an eyebrow, hiding a grin behind his mug. “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”
“What can I say?” Lucas replied with a shrug, setting his mug down. “Anyway, enough about me. Did you sort things out with Y/N last night?”
Harry’s smile faltered, and he stared into his tea as if the answers might be swirling in the cup. “We talked,” he said slowly.
Lucas’s eyebrows shot up. “And? What happened?”
“She’s not happy, mate,” Harry admitted, leaning against the counter. “Asked me straight up if I liked Sophia. Told her I wanted to keep my options open.”
Lucas groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, Harry. Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth,” Harry said defensively. “I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure.”
“Right, but you’re not exactly making it easy for yourself, are you?” Lucas countered. “Y/N’s not the type to just sit around and wait for you to make up your mind. If anything, she’ll use this as fuel to move on.”
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. Chloe’s probably in her ear right now, telling her to forget about me.”
Lucas glanced back at the terrace, where Chloe and Y/N were laughing between stretches. “If she’s smart, she’ll listen. Chloe doesn’t mess about.”
Harry’s jaw tightened as he looked out at Y/N. She was glowing in the morning light, her hair pulled back and her smile wide as she joked with Chloe. “I just… I don’t know what to do, mate. I like her, but Sophia… she’s got this vibe, you know? Makes me wonder what else is out there.”
Lucas shook his head. “You’re playing with fire. If you’re not careful, you’re going to lose Y/N and not even get a chance with Sophia. Girls talk, mate. And no one likes a bloke who can’t make up his mind.”
Harry didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on Y/N as she stretched her arms above her head. The thought of her pulling away, of her laughter directed at someone else, left a sour taste in his mouth. He took another sip of tea, trying to shake the feeling.
“You’ve got to figure it out, Harry,” Lucas said, his tone serious. “Because right now, you’re playing a game you might not win.”
The sun blazed down on the villa as the Islanders gathered on the lawn, coffee cups in hand and nerves bubbling under the surface. In the center of the garden stood a brightly colored spinning wheel, its glossy paint glinting in the sunlight like a harbinger of chaos. The air hummed with a mix of anticipation and dread.
Y/N adjusted her sunglasses, leaning back lazily as Chloe leaned closer.
“I’m telling you now, this game is going to start World War Three,” Chloe muttered, her tone low but laced with amusement.
Y/N let out a small laugh, though her stomach was already knotting. Across the lawn, Harry was lounging on the beanbags, his body sprawled out casually as Sophia leaned in close, whispering something in his ear that made him grin.
“It’s 10 a.m., and the Islanders are already sweating. Not from the heat, though—oh no. This morning, we’ve gifted them a little something we like to call Lips Don’t Lie. Because nothing says ‘good morning’ like breaking hearts before brunch!”
“Here’s the deal: spin the wheel, land on ‘Snog,’ ‘Spill,’ or ‘Steal.’ Kiss someone, confess your darkest secret, or swipe a kiss from another Islander’s partner. Oh, and there’s a lovely stack of truths in those envelopes, just in case things weren’t messy enough.”
“Alright, Y/N,” Lucas called out with a cheeky grin. “You’re up first!”
The group erupted into chants, and Y/N stood, her shoulders squared as she approached the wheel. The handle felt cold under her fingertips as she spun it sharply, the clattering sound making her heart race.
It landed on ‘Spill.’
“Easy one to start with,” Chloe teased.
Lucas, practically vibrating with excitement, grabbed an envelope. “Alright, Y/N,” he said, his grin devilish. “If you had to recouple with someone other than Harry, who would it be?”
The crowd fell silent, all eyes on Y/N. She felt Harry’s gaze burning into her, but she kept her expression cool.
She tapped her chin thoughtfully, dragging it out. “Hmm… Lucas,” she said finally, turning to him with a sly smile. “You always know how to make me laugh.”
Laughter rippled through the group as Lucas dramatically clutched his chest. “My dream finally comes true.”
“Y/N keeping it light and breezy. But don’t worry, Harry—Lucas is just here for the bants. Or is he?”
Harry’s jaw clenched, his mug of tea now forgotten on the table beside him.
“Your turn, mate!” Callum called, his grin wide.
Harry stood, brushing off invisible lint from his shorts before giving the wheel a forceful spin. When it landed on ‘Snog,’ the group erupted with cheers and whistles.
Sophia’s eyes lit up before Harry even moved. Without a moment’s hesitation, he crossed the garden and kissed her, slow enough to make the others holler in delight.
Y/N felt Chloe nudge her hard. “Don’t react,” Chloe hissed. “He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.”
Y/N tilted her head, feigning indifference. “Couldn’t care less,” she said smoothly, though her nails dug into her palms.
“Oh, Harry. If this were chess, you’d be playing checkers. Y/N? Ice cold.”
Sophia’s turn was next, and the wheel landed on ‘Spill.’ She sauntered over to the stack of envelopes, picking one like it held her winning lottery numbers.
Tom read aloud, “Sophia, who do you think is your biggest competition in the villa?”
Sophia smirked, her gaze drifting lazily over the girls before landing squarely on Y/N.
“Y/N,” she said confidently. “She’s stunning, and, let’s face it, everyone seems to fancy her.”
The group erupted with laughter and gasps, while Y/N shot Sophia a sweet, unfazed smile. “Aw, thanks, babe,” she said lightly.
“Sophia, dishing out backhanded compliments like cocktails. But let’s be honest, she’s right. Y/N’s still the main event.”
Max spun the wheel next, landing on ‘Snog.’ Without missing a beat, he turned to Y/N. “Sorry, Harry,” he said with a mischievous grin before kissing her, lingering just long enough to turn the group rowdy.
When Y/N sat back down, Chloe clapped her on the back. “Legend.”
Harry’s expression didn’t flinch, but his eyes burned into Y/N’s as she casually sipped her water.
Finally, Tom pulled an envelope from the truth pile, holding it up dramatically. “Time for a big one!” he announced.
The group quieted as Tom read aloud, “One Islander confessed: ‘I still think about kissing Y/N.’”
The garden froze.
Amber’s mouth dropped. “Who said that?!”
The boys erupted into teasing accusations, whistles flying as Lucas turned to Harry with a smirk. “C’mon, mate. You’ve got guilty written all over your face.”
Harry’s jaw tightened as he glared at Lucas. “Didn’t hear my name, did you?”
“Oh, Harry. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, and your face says it all.”
Chloe leaned into Y/N’s ear, whispering, “You’ve got him rattled.”
Y/N shrugged, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Not my problem.”
“Whew, what a morning! Secrets revealed, kisses stolen, and Harry’s mood hitting boiling point. And we haven’t even had lunch yet. Buckle up, folks—this villa’s about to erupt.”
The villa was quiet after the chaos of the game, with most of the Islanders scattered in their own corners, trying to digest the truths and dares that had been laid bare. Y/N was perched on the edge of the terrace, her foot tapping against the ground as her mind replayed every moment of the game—Harry’s snog with Sophia, the truth bomb about someone still thinking of kissing her, and the way Harry’s eyes had burned into her the entire time.
She heard footsteps approaching and sighed. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“Not now, Harry,” she muttered, her tone tired but edged with annoyance.
“Yeah, well, I think now’s the perfect time,” Harry said, his voice low but charged. He moved closer, stopping just a step behind her.
Y/N whipped around, her frustration spilling over. “What do you want, Harry? Haven’t you had enough fun for one day?”
His jaw tensed. “I came to talk because clearly, we need to. But if you’re going to start throwing digs, I can walk right back out.”
“Oh, how generous of you,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Do you want a medal for gracing me with your presence after ignoring me all day? Or is this just damage control because you know how bad you looked out there?”
Harry’s brows knitted together, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re acting like I’m the only one who played the game! What about you? Max kissed you, and you didn’t seem too bothered about that.”
“Don’t you dare,” Y/N said, stepping closer as her voice dropped dangerously. “Max kissed me because you made it very clear where you stand today. I didn’t ask for it, but I wasn’t about to stop him just to protect your fragile ego.”
“Fragile ego?” Harry repeated, his voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re the one who’s been sulking and throwing me daggers all day, acting like I’ve done something unforgivable when all I did was follow the rules of a stupid game!”
“Stupid game?” she fired back, her tone cutting. “So kissing Sophia—grabbing her like you couldn’t wait to get your hands on her—that was just for the rules? Funny how you didn’t hesitate even for a second.”
Harry took a step closer, their faces now inches apart. “And what about you, huh? Smiling and laughing with Max like you were enjoying every second of it? Don’t act like you’re above playing games, Y/N.”
Her heart was pounding, her anger mixing with something else entirely—something she didn’t want to name. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to play any games. I just wanted to feel like you cared. Like I wasn’t just… replaceable.”
Harry’s expression softened for a moment, but the tension between them was still thick. “You’re not replaceable,” he said, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You think I don’t care about you? I can’t even look at you without losing my head, Y/N. And yeah, I messed up today, but don’t for a second think that means I don’t want you.”
She blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “Then why—”
Before she could finish, Harry reached out, cupping her face in his hands and pulling her into a kiss. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was full of all the anger, frustration, and desire that had been constructing between them.
For a second, she resisted, her hands pushing lightly against his chest, but then she gave in, gripping his shirt as she kissed him back with equal intensity.
The world seemed to blur around them, the only sounds their ragged breaths and the faint hum of the villa in the distance. When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard, their foreheads resting against each other.
“That’s why,” Harry said, his voice rough.
Y/N swallowed, her emotions a whirlwind. “This doesn’t fix anything,” she whispered, though her hands were still clutching his shirt.
“I know,” he replied, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “But it’s the truth.”
She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. “Then prove it, Harry. Because I’m not doing this halfway.”
He nodded, his gaze steady. “I will.”
As the distant chatter of the other Islanders drifted toward them, Y/N stepped back, her walls slowly rebuilding. “Good,” she said quietly before turning and walking back inside, leaving Harry standing there, watching her go.
“Well, if we were playing ‘Lips Don’t Lie,’ those two just failed spectacularly. But will Harry make good on his promise, or is Y/N setting herself up for more heartbreak? Stay tuned, folks. It’s about to get messy.”
Mia Brown always thought she was a nice girl. She was polite, kept to herself yet was always keen on helping others if they gave her a little time to grow comfortable.
She grew up in a household where she never had the upper hand, where she was never considered the smart one. It was a feeling she got used to, waiting for instructions and then following them. Whenever she spoke a thought of her own, her parents were always quick in dismissing her and placing her back in line.
Mia Brown was raised to be perfect.
Psychology wouldn’t have been her own first choice for a university degree, but it’s what her parents pushed her towards. They listed all the pros of a degree in that field and she found herself nodding. Before she knew it, her signature was on the enrolment form and her education was paid for.
Five years of university for a topic she had forced herself to grow excited about. Mia always assumed she’d go for something like… biology. The human body fascinated her, more specifically the brain. She sneakily watched Grey’s Anatomy for years, finally divulging in it fully now that she lived in a dorm and was no longer at her parents’ house, and for a long time saw herself as a neurosurgeon.
It was safe to say Cristina Yang was her example for a very long time. Her bossiness, her huge brain and her overall attitude was something Mia admired, she felt. That was until she suggested the idea to her parents, who rather quickly shushed her and shot her a disappointing look. Her father claimed surgery was a field for men, not women.
Mia remembered feeling disappointed, but forced a smile and had nodded at him either way.
According to him, she should choose a job where she could do regular office hours and be home at a nice time to care for her future husband. Someone her parents had apparently even already lined up for her.
Daniel was nice enough, Mia thought. He was clever, polite and her father liked him. He was the son of a family friend and Mia saw him on certain occasions throughout the year. For the time being, both him and her were studying for their respective degrees at the colleges of their choice.
Mia didn’t particularly mind that they were on opposite sides of the country.
From a young age, she questioned her mother about the idea of love that she had seen in movies. Even though her parents never really allowed it, Mia did look at romantic films on the television and it was once more something she no longer deprived herself of now that she lived on her own.
The first time she asked her mother, was after watching Tarzan as a child. She liked how Jane fell for someone unconventional, someone who didn’t particularly fit the vibe of her own life. But she liked him for who he was and they ended up fitting their lives together.
Her mother hadn’t smiled gently at her question. She reprimanded Mia for it, for assuming that something like that could happen in real life. For her parents, love was a business deal. They had met in similar ways as Mia and Daniel had, and for them it was normal.
The first time Mia told her roommate and friend – Hazel – about it, Hazel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Her reaction actually made Mia laugh, because she felt like Hazel made a rather funny face and it caused a rather embarrassing snort to rise up Mia’s nose until she buckled over in laughter. Hazel stayed shocked for a few minutes before she questioned everything about this love-deal that Mia’s parents had made with Daniel’s parents.
She asked for a picture of Daniel, which Mia showed off of his Facebook-profile. Hazel had scrunched up her nose and pushed her thick-rimmed glasses further up her nose while also using both thumbs to zoom in on the picture.
Mia had pressed her lips together, “He looks better in real life.” She defended him for some unknown reason.
The profile picture looked like him in the mediaeval centuries, posing for some kind of painter who’d make a portrait of him. It was stoic, very serious and the longer Mia stared at it, the funnier it became. Not long after, both her and Hazel were caught in a laughing fit while Hazel tried to impersonate Daniel’s picture.
It was hilarious, Mia thought. She couldn’t recollect a time she had laughed like that. So freely.
She had been shy upon meeting Hazel at first, but she had given Mia time and space to open up and feel comfortable. She was still a little reserved, as she was around basically every human being. She was extremely polite and never did colour outside of the lines. It was quite the contrast from how Hazel lived. Sometimes, Mia thought, Hazel was a bit careless. She took inspiration from it, but in her own time.
Something that sadly enough didn’t move on her own time, was her education.
How she got through high school with flying colours, turned into a huge mystery for Mia. Upon starting university with all the hope in the world of liking psychology, it was a bit of a let down and a reality check when she struggled tremendously with the course materials.
It was a challenge she hadn’t faced in a while. All throughout high school, Mia had kept to herself and studied hard. The results proved worthy of how much time and effort she put into her assignments and tests. In university, she struggled.
Somehow her dyslexia didn’t bother her as much in high school. Mia’s teachers were aware of it and aided her for certain parts. In university, the professors weren’t as concerned and left the students to their own, and it made Mia anxious.
While Hazel spent time with her friends – usually leaving the apartment to give Mia peace and quiet – Mia was huddled up at her desk with stacks of books and deadlines to achieve. It had surprised Mia, how hard of a time she had with the materials.
Mia did learn mechanisms, but it didn’t take away the added hardships of reading long texts or getting through thick books.
Especially when she was tired or anxious, the letters clouded together. The more frustrated Mia became, the harder it got to read the lines. It meant that she spent more time than ever between her books in order to pass her tests and get good grades.
It meant the world to her parents to uphold her pristine reputation.
Even when Hazel tried to coax her out for a night, Mia most often refused. Not only did she suffer from social anxiety, she was far too preoccupied with her school work to let loose for even one night.
“Good morning.” Mia softly spoke when she heard the closing of Hazel’s bedroom door. The next thing Mia heard was a loud yawn as Hazel dragged her feet over the hardwood floors of their shared apartment.
Mia supposed it was the scent of coffee that woke Hazel up this Monday morning. Mia knew Hazel didn’t have classes for a few hours but that she had some texts to read. One thing that Mia’s psychology degree and Hazel’s philosophy degree had in common, was that they both had to read a lot. Thick books with different materials, yet the same amount of pages littered both their desks.
Hazel was quite a bit more casual with it than Mia was, but that was alright. Hazel’s parents were nice people and upon meeting them for the first time, Mia sensed immediately where Hazel got her chaotic mind from. Mia’s parents did not assist in the furnishing-assembly party for their apartment while Hazel’s parents did. With bright smiles.
Mia made sure to thank them properly by cooking a nice meal for everyone that night. She declined the wine that Hazel offered and later on shared with her parents while Mia sipped on some water.
The same table Hazel’s father had put together, now held two coffee mugs that Mia filled with black coffee. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hazel with a wild mess of curls on top of her head, run-down mascara and her pyjama top on backwards.
The sight made Mia giggle under her breath while Hazel joined her at the table, immediately holding her head with both hands to soothe the hangover Mia was sure she had. She never assumed Sundays could be for partying, but Hazel proved her otherwise. Apparently when in university, every night was for partying. And Hazel often used that excuse to leave for the night.
She softly slid the mug of coffee with the little pink unicorns on it towards Hazel while taking a sip of her own, poured in another one of Hazel’s funky mugs that Mia preferred. Hers had little daisies on it, and she found that it brightened her day.
“You’re an angel.” Hazel’s raspy voice was a clear indication from lack of sleep and one too many cigarettes, and Mia smiled at the sentiment, “I figured you might need it to wake up a little more. I think I heard you come home at around four.”
Hazel lifted her head, panda-eyes on full display as she stared at Mia, “Shit, did I wake you? I thought I was silent.”
Mia smiled softly – trying to hide her everlasting shock whenever Hazel blurted out a curse word just like that – and shook her head, “No, you didn’t. I never sleep all that amazing when I know you’re going out.”
“Mia,” Hazel groaned with a slight eye roll, “I told you to stop worrying about me.”
Mia looked down while taking another sip of coffee, “I know, but I can’t help it. I noticed you didn’t bring your coat and it was snowing right before I went to bed.” She defended herself for worrying about her friend.
Hazel chuckled, “That’s really sweet, but it’s about a thousand degrees in every nightclub.”
“But what about when you go outside?” Mia retorted curiously. Hazel shrugged, “I waited inside for the uber to come and get me, so it’s fine.”
Mia tilted her head to the side, “Right.”
Hazel took a large sip of her coffee and Mia looked at her with endeared eyes, “Did you have fun?”
“Really fun.” Hazel yawned, “You should really join us sometimes. I think you’d like my friends.”
Mia took it upon herself to plant a little polite smile on her face, nodding at Hazel’s proposition even though the idea made her stomach twist, “Yeah, sure.”
Hazel and Mia hadn’t met yesterday. They had lived together in this apartment for almost two months, so Hazel knew perfectly well that when Mia said ‘yeah, sure’, she actually meant no but she was too polite to say so.
Hazel was too tired and hungover to start any sort of discussion about it, and she also didn’t want to make Mia feel uncomfortable. Mia liked their dynamic so far. She had been nervous to live with anyone who wasn’t her parents and her older brother, who had gone off to university a few years prior and who she hardly kept in touch with. Hazel coaxed and urged her, but never pushed. She understood Mia, she felt. And it was something Mia was grateful for. Their dynamic of being roommates turned into a dynamic of being friends over the two months of living together.
“So what’s your day like? Are you home tonight?” Hazel questioned.
Mia sipped down more coffee while taking it upon herself to start packing her lunch. She shrugged her shoulders, “I have class in about thirty minutes. And then it’s just all through to the afternoon and then from three, I do some therapy.”
“Right. Lots of clients today?” Hazel asked and Mia puckered her lips, “I don’t know, honestly. I’m sure professor Dillon will tell me when I get to class.” She popped a piece of toast in her mouth while spreading some hummus on the rest of the bread she packed for lunch.
Due to her struggling with her school assignments, her primary professor – professor Dillon – had offered her some work for extra credit. Her assignments and tests hadn’t been all that amazing, and in order to save herself, Mia was allowed to practise. She had never really learned many social skills, but found that giving therapy was something up her alley.
Maybe her parents were right after all when picking this degree for her.
Mia found that listening to other people and exploring their minds was something she needed to be good at if she wanted to be a therapist. Due to Mia’s struggling grades, she was offered the opportunity to receive extra credit, along with a few other students. Mia stayed behind twice a week to give individual therapy to fellow other students.
Some came to them voluntarily to just clear their minds and vent a little. Others had to come to therapy mandated from the school. Either they did something wrong at school – like they skipped too many classes or defiled the school property – and were given the choice to either pay a fine to the school or follow some therapy sessions with the psychology-students.
Mia had questioned the ethics of it, along with Hazel. Of course Mia and her fellow students made referrals to actual therapists if they felt like the problems were too severe, but they had learned that the students that came in for therapy sometimes just wanted a chat. It was free, it was accessible and it was private.
And then there were those who had to follow it for mandatory reasons. It was a bit sneaky on the school’s end, but if students chose therapy rather than paying for defiled property or receiving detention, parents weren’t notified. It was a great way for the psychology students to get some practice in.
It took Mia a little while to get on board with this plan, but the few students she had seen so far, had put her at ease and with each passing therapy session that she hosted, she felt like she got better at it.
One girl came to her because she had a minor drug problem but it was only an issue when she didn’t reach class on time in the mornings. Another came to her because they drunkenly broke into the school at night and broke a window.
It was another thing Mia tried to let go of, the anxiety of trying to predict who she was going to have in front of her and what story they’d tell her. She had learned that it was something she couldn’t control and strangely, that put her at ease. She couldn’t prepare for some of the things she heard.
Obviously, she was a first year student who had hardly learned any actual theory about psychology, but her school believed in a practical approach and Mia decided to use it to her benefit and gain extra credit from it since studying wasn’t going to be her forte in university.
She finished packing her lunch while Hazel told some stories about her night out. Apparently, she had gone to a bar – which Mia wasn’t surprised by. Hazel told stories with her hands, Mia noticed. She liked listening to her. Her eyes enjoyed following the movements of her fingers, bringing strength to her words as she enthusiastically spoke about events that were completely foreign to Mia.
Drinking shots. Dancing on tables. Kissing strangers. Mia listened with perked ears and wide eyes of a world that was unfamiliar to her. It was a world she was curious for, but also scared of. For now, Mia felt alright just following along from the sidelines.
“I took extra bread out of the freezer so you can have lunch. And I cut up extra cucumbers too.” Mia spoke while closing her breadbox to put in her bag. Hazel’s eyes could’ve turned into hearts at Mia’s words and she smiled at her, “I have the best roommate ever.”
Mia blushed and giggled, floundering at the compliment which still felt uncommon to her to receive in the first place. She didn’t think she had ever been the best at anything, so she liked Hazel saying it like that even if it was a figure of speech. Mia was sure there were better roommates out there than her, but she didn’t get in that headspace because it was one she struggled to get out of.
With her brown hair in her signature braid behind her back, Mia worked her way on exiting the apartment. She wore black jeans, wool socks, boots and a few layers up top to keep warm. November had just begun and it was very cold in the UK to say the least. It’s why she had felt worried about Hazel going out in what Mia was sure was just another short dress, without a coat.
With the first flakes of snow she saw drizzling from the sky from her opened curtain in the street lights, she felt a pang of worry shooting through her. Mia had learned that she enjoyed sleeping with her curtains open for the sheer fact that she could look outside. She enjoyed the business of their apartment, the sounds coming from the street, the distant chattering.
And at night, it was lovely silent. Mia loved the silence.
She bundled up tightly and bid goodbye to Hazel before braving the cold and making her way to campus on foot. It was about a ten minute walk and only recently had she dared to start listening to music on her walks. Mia wasn’t superstitious or paranoid, but her parents had always warned her. Not about anything in specific, they just warned her. So she was careful and hesitant about everything, also the few same streets she always took to campus to get to her classes.
As expected, she got in early. Her first class today was child development. It wasn’t something Mia found herself very fascinated by. She wasn’t fascinated by most of her subjects and she had yet to find her passion in this field. Neuropsychology was the nail in her coffin, if she was honest. After class one she knew she’d struggle with that one.
Mia pulled out her laptop and took a seat by the window, giving her a view of the snowed-in campus. She found herself smiling at the comfortable view, feeling quite right at home on this campus.
Moving away from home could’ve gone two ways. Part of Mia was very excited to do so, because her parents started to feel suffocating and she was keen on trying to figure out what life had to offer. She was ready to move on her own, spread her wings and figure it out. On the other hand, Mia realised she had always been very protected.
Her parents were set on her watching the news every night and she was confronted with the worldly horrors on a daily basis. It took her parents convincing to let her move to a big city as they called it.
Mia wondered why they never gave her brother that hard of a time when he moved away.
Class moved by quickly as Mia paid attention and took notes, knowing she was messing up lots of the words she typed. It was another thing she lost time with, going over her notes and fixing them every night before she could actually study them. If she focussed on that in class, Mia knew she’d be lost after only a few minutes as the teacher moved too quickly.
When the weather was still nice, Mia often chose to have lunch outside by herself. She’d sit at the campus grounds with a book or use the time to already go over her notes or study some more. But with the snow falling, she felt nerves seeping into her bones at the thought of having to eat at the cafeteria.
She spotted some of the people who had a few classes with her and they shot one another polite smiles. Mia was too shy to ask them if she could sit with them, so she chose a table in the back where a lot of people unfortunately dumped their trash after finishing their lunch.
Mia chose a spot at the far end of the table and used the back of her breadbox to push some of the empty wrappings to the side and give herself a little room to eat. She was grateful that during the course of her meal, no one threw anything on the table and they let her eat in peace.
After her afternoon class, she made her way over to professor Dillon’s office on the fourth floor of the North building. She had just snacked on some grapes and a cup of hot tea from the vending machine, her fingers coming down on professor Dillon’s office door which was slightly ajar.
He beckoned her in with a comforting grin, surrounded by stacks of papers on his desk.
His messiness resembled Hazel’s, Mia observed.
“You only have one therapy talk today, Mia.” Professor Dillon handed her a small file and Mia took it without second thought, “Okay. Room two?”
He breathed out a small chuckle, “You don’t have to ask anymore, you can take room two.”
Mia smiled wider and nodded gratefully, “Thank you, professor.” Ever since beginning this volunteering work, Mia had preferred to give therapy sessions in room two. They could choose from five rooms since there were usually five students volunteering, Mia being one of them. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about room two that she liked, but apparently professor Dillon didn’t need much confirming and just handed it to her.
With the file under her arm, Mia made her way to room two, opening it up comfortably only to be startled with a yelp when she realised she wasn’t alone.
A boy was in the room. Well, a man really.
His eyes flicked up at the sudden action of the door opening, his eyes landing on Mia from his seated position on the couch. He wore a dark blue beanie and an equally dark oversized jumper that covered part of his hands too. They were clasped together as his elbows leaned on his knees and he comfortably sat on the couch.
Mia caught her breath and tried to hide the pinking of her cheeks, forcing him a small smile even if the stranger nearly gave her a heart attack.
“Hi. You must be…” She casted her eyes down to the file that the professor handed her, squinting her eyes to read the name properly, “… Sinclair, Harry?”
He softly cleared his throat, “Yeah.”
Mia nodded and closed the door behind her, balancing her bag, the file and her cup of tea which she chose to set down first of all before making even more of a fool of herself. She shrugged off her coat and made the room a little comfortable, shooting Harry a small smile, “Sorry, I just got here.”
He didn’t answer her as she went around the room, turning on certain lights and also turning on the heating to get the space a little warmer.
She had to admit she was a little startled to find the stranger here already. She liked getting in a little early to get the space ready and read through the file, to get a sense of at least the name of the person coming in for a chat.
Harry stared at his feet as Mia moved through the space until eventually settling down into the couch opposite him, a small coffee table between them. Mia clamped both hands around her hot cup of coffee and left a bit of a silence, taking him in.
She noticed the little glob of snot in the corner of his left eye, the writing marks on his hands, the few chunky rings adorning his fingers and the way they tightly grasped one another, joining in his lap when he leaned back against the back of the couch.
“Aren’t you supposed to like… talk or something?” His voice broke the silence.
Mia snapped out of her admiring-state and flicked her eyes up, a flush rising up her chest that she tried to hide by taking a sip of her tea and burning her entire throat simultaneously – yet another thing she tried to play off.
“Do you want anything to drink?” She changed the subject.
“No.”
More silence. She liked doing it like this at first, because it gave room for the other person to say whatever they were feeling like.
“Are you just gonna keep staring at me? I don’t think this is how therapy works.” Harry spoke again, a boring tone to his voice as his fingertips started playing with the armrest of the couch where there was a small rip in the sowing. His fingers picked on the stuffing in it as he had a more relaxed position.
Mia pressed her lips together, trying to think of some conversation techniques she had read through before starting any therapy sessions with anyone, “It’s not. I just like to leave room for some silence, is that okay?” She could tell her voice didn’t sound all that steady. Mia really struggled with these therapy sessions but knew she had to practise if she ever wanted to do this for a living. Her social anxiety just got in the way most often and she needed some time to get into it.
“Not when it’s awkward.” He mumbled, his eyes then going to the clock on the opposite wall, exhaling another bored sigh. Mia tilted her head to the side, “You don’t want to be here.”
Harry clacked his tongue and didn’t look at her, “Nice observation.”
Another small blush from sheer embarrassment and Mia blinked a few times before finally reaching for the folder on her lap. Mia softly cleared her throat and opened it up, “So… Harry. What do you study?”
“Philosophy.”
Her ears perked and she fought the small smile on her lips, the immediate thought of Hazel popping into her brain. Mia was sure her loving roommate would have no issue striking up a conversation with this quick-witted young man in front of her.
“That’s interesting.” She commented, earning her nothing more than a lazy shrug from Harry’s shoulders who seemed more occupied with destroying the stuffing of the couch than to speak to her. Mia nibbled her lip, unsure of where to go from here.
So she decided to ramble her memorised lines that she had to repeat all the time.
“So – “ She drew a breath, “you are in for eight sessions with me. The sessions are twice a week at first but about halfway we move onto once a week, so it’ll be a month and a half unless either of us falls sick or has to cancel due to class or an assignment.”
He didn’t react or respond so Mia felt like it was appropriate to continue, “We obviously don’t know one another, and I want you to know that nothing you say here will leave this room. I’m not here to judge. This is a… safe space.” She cringed while speaking the words but professor Dillon had urged her to speak them.
Harry exhaled a soft huff but still didn’t look at her.
“Oh, and I just need you to sign this. It’s an informed consent. You know, just that you agree with this and that I’m allowed to write some stuff down. It won’t go in an official file or anything, it just means I can keep some notes so I don’t forget everything by the time you come in next.” She spoke softly, pulling something out of her bag. Mia straightened out the sheet a little before leaning over the coffee table and placing it down with a pen on top.
Harry stared at it with little interest for a bit until he leaned forward too, took the small pen in his huge hand and lazily scribbled his signature without even taking a look at the words on it. He leaned back on the couch with a sigh so deep it seemed like putting his signature down was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
“So, I think we should start fresh.” Mia forced him a smile after she put the consent form away ,and got up, extending her hand, “I’m Mia.”
Harry arched up an eyebrow, unimpressed as she stood in front of him. His eyes dragged up her form once and Mia could feel herself shrinking while trying to keep her extended hand steady. He eventually shook it with little enthusiasm, “Harry.” He sighed.
Mia couldn’t help but smile brightly when he seemed to cooperate finally, but Harry’s eyes were cast down rather quickly. The cool metal of his rings contrasted with his warm skin when they shook hands, but he dropped his hand with little enthusiasm the second it was polite to do so.
“Okay.” She kept smiling while sitting back down on her couch, feeling as if they could move on from this awkward first greeting and finally get somewhere. She tucked a short loose strand of brown hair behind her ear that had come loose from the braid in the course of the day and nibbled her lip, staring down at the file on her lap.
"Are you comfortable here? Not too cold? I turned the heating on a little but let’s be honest, the weather has been less than a treat lately. I for sure didn’t expect to wake up to snow this morning. Although it was a nice surprise because it’s so pretty, it’s not that fun if you need to get places.” Mia started her small-talk, which was her usual way to get her clients to feel comfortable and open up.
Harry exhaled a bored breath and just nodded, more to himself than to her. Mia pressed her lips together when she realised this wasn’t really Harry’s cup of tea, her just chattering. Maybe he didn’t need it.
“Have you ever gone to therapy before?”
“No.”
She nodded, opening up her notebook and scribbling something down, “And – uh, philosophy, hm? What year are you in?”
He put his chin on his hand while resting his elbow on the armrest, staring at her with an unimpressed look yet it still made Mia squirm inside. His eyes were quite intense and a very beautiful shade of green. She didn’t think she had ever come across someone with such striking eyes, or who’s eyes just stood out to her like that.
Mia found herself hoping he’d start talking soon so she could take the time to really look at him. She could listen to his deep, slow voice without paying much attention and let her eyes curiously trail over him for a moment. Right now, Mia felt like she couldn’t because he was watching her like a hawk and she felt a little shy under his gaze.
“Mostly in my second.” He shortly answered and Mia nodded, writing again to keep herself occupied, “Mostly?”
He shrugged, “Fucked up a little last year, have to retake a few subjects.” He answered and Mia found herself tensing up at the curse word he let slip just as casually as Hazel did.
“So you’re nineteen?” Mia had stopped writing and now simply drew shapes of eyes in the by-line of her notebook, subconsciously trying to mimic him. Harry exhaled again, “No, twenty.”
Mia curiously lifted her head, unable to keep the small frown from etching into her forehead. She parted her lips to ask the obvious follow-up question but Harry beat her to it with a small roll of those green eyes, as if he was already sick of hearing that same question, “I doubled a year in high school.”
“Oh.” She nodded, dropping her eyes again as Harry did the same. The room fell silent once more and Mia realised only six minutes had passed since she walked in. She mindlessly clicked her pen a few times until hearing a clearing of Harry’s throat. Mia’s eyes flicked to his, her cheeks pinking up a little as he shot her a slight glare. She put her pen down, “Sorry.”
Harry didn’t say anything but looked very much done with being in this room. His knee bobbed a little, sneaker-clad feet constantly shifting positions as he sat restless.
Mia usually refrained from looking into the file too much. She found she rather heard from the people themselves what they were here for, telling their story. Most of them didn’t mind telling her as she apparently was someone to be trusted rather easily. She had never come across a student as hard to crack as the boy in front of her.
But now, in this silence, she noticed her fingers inching towards the folder and she eventually took it in her lap again and opened it up. She saw his global information, such as his name and his date of birth.
An Aquarius.
Mia’s eyes darted over the paper and she nodded to herself, until she tensed up and her eyes widened upon seeing what he was in for. She couldn’t stop herself when her mouth gaped and she gasped, before lifting her head with struck eyes.
Harry didn’t even notice, too occupied with the stuffing of the couch again as he lazed in the chair until the hour passed by.
“You…” Mia croaked out, still dumbstruck with the newly found information. Her eyes dropped to the paper again as if to read it once more to check if she was actually correct and that her eyes weren’t deceiving her, “You really did this?”
“So far for not judging.” Harry huffed and Mia swallowed, “No – but… seriously?”
Harry didn’t say anything but didn’t look amused with her reaction. Mia drew a breath, “You had… intercourse with someone in the library and broke a bookcase?”
“Mhm.” He mumbled.
Mia read over the words one more time until she glanced at him, “Why?”
Harry’s eyes snapped to her, “Why? What do you mean, why? Because I fucking felt like it, of course. I was horny and it was empty. Is it my fault those fucking book cases are ancient as fuck and can’t take some weight on them?!” He bit.
Mia felt a bit taken aback by the sudden volume of his voice, staring as his fingers now angrily picked at the rip in the armrest while grumbling something under his breath. After another moment of silence in which Mia felt like she simply had no idea how to even respond to that, Harry sighed out, “It’s not that weird, people do it all the time. As if you’ve never felt the urge and just did it wherever?” He continued.
Mia straightened up and pressed her lips together, feeling herself turn pink again. It was a common thing whenever a client turned a question around on her. She didn’t like answering questions during these sessions, she liked asking them. It was basically the only thing Mia felt like she enjoyed about being a therapist. Her entire life, she had never really been listened to, and she didn’t feel a particular need to talk now either. But she enjoyed listening.
She enjoyed finding out how people’s minds worked, how their brains were wired, and how they processed.
She avoided Harry’s question specifically, because the fact that she was a virgin did not need to be discussed here, nor did she want him to find out. She just cast her eyes down, reading over the words just one more time to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
But no. Harry did have intercourse in the school library during a quiet moment of the day, but in the act he and the person he was doing it with, knocked over a smaller bookcase that did have some value to it. The school board was furious and wanted him to pay for the book case that he broke.
Harry apparently opted for therapy instead.
It seemed to be a decision he now regretted as he hung in the couch with his breaths even and his face looking like he had just received the world’s most awful news. It was quite clear to Mia that he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Mia felt like she had to gather herself and keep the conversation going, “S-So does your girlfriend have to get therapy too?”
“Girlfriend?” Harry chuckled at that, but in quite a menacing way as he shook his head, “She’s not my girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes, “She fucking bolted the moment that book case fell and she was out before the guard caught me. ‘M not gonna rat her out, I’m not a complete dick.”
Mia was absolutely baffled by the way he spoke so casually with so many bad words in his regular vocabulary. She shifted a little and nodded, as if the idea of casual sex wasn’t completely foreign to her. She resorted to writing down a bit more while racking her brain for the next question or something that could steer this conversation back to where she wanted it to go.
“How old are you anyway?” Harry broke the silence this time. Mia lifted her head with raised brows, immediately a tad bit intimidated by the attention being on her again. She fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater, “I’m eighteen.”
“Holy fuck.” Harry sighed desperately while dropping his head back into the couch, showing off his throat and all the veins running there – which Mia tried very hard to keep her eyes away from. “What the fuck am I doing here.” Harry whined more so to himself than to her.
Mia tried not to feel too hurt by his statement. She was aware that not all people truly enjoyed therapy or that they were made for it. But she had also learned that after a few minutes or at most after one session, she had swayed them and they actually looked forward to coming back.
Never had someone expressed such displeasure in spending one hour in a room with her. It made an uncomfortable tingly sensation run through her skin and her throat dried out just a little bit as she forced a small smile his way when he lifted his head again.
“S-So – uh, why don’t you just tell me the story of what happened?” Mia tried to shift it back to Harry, to have him speak a little more instead of just answering with ‘yes’, ‘no’ or a shrug of his shoulders. Harry rolled his eyes again, and Mia frowned to herself. Did he really think she couldn’t see it when he did that? Did he not realise how rude it was to just roll your eyes at someone like that?
“Look – Mia, was it, right?” He started in a breath and Mia softly nodded, “Yes.”
Harry cleared his throat, “You seem like a nice girl, but frankly – you look like you belong in church. I never meant for my fucking sex life to be a topic of discussion with a fellow student who’s younger than me. As if you’re supposed to give me advice or some shit?” He exclaimed, clearly frustrated. He chewed his lip, ready to spew more venom at Mia who shrunk just a little on the couch. She hoped professor Dillon was following along and was ready to intervene instead of letting her suffer like this.
“I can’t pay for that bookcase, it’s like four grand – so yes, I chose this therapy thing instead. Not all of us have the privilege of just doing some volunteer work without getting paid for it. Some of us actually do need money.” He bit.
Mia straightened up, a tight lump in her throat that she hadn’t expected just settled there. Rock hard, not wanting to move no matter how hard she tried or swallowed. She looked down to her lap, eyes blurring ever so slightly as she tried to breathe properly and remember her anxiety exercises.
Now would be a really good time for professor Dillon to come save her.
---------
Professor Dillon didn’t come save her.
It was about forty minutes later and Mia had arrived home in the warmth of the apartment she shared with Hazel. She kicked the remainder of the snow off of her boots and then neatly put them next to the door to dry before padding her way into the space. Some lights were on and the door to Hazel’s room was on a small crack.
After nervously playing with the end of her braid for a bit, Mia thought she’d go in. She had contemplated it the entire way over, if she should bother Hazel with this.
Mia knew there was patient confidentiality, but she also knew the entire campus usually knew whenever someone had done something that earned them school mandated therapy. Mia was probably the only one who hadn’t heard about Harry’s library-escapades before today, because she didn’t speak to a lot of people and zoned out most of the time during the breaks.
Her knuckles gently came down on Hazel’s door and she could hear some music coming from inside.
“Come in!” Hazel called out and Mia nudged the door open, seeing Hazel up in her floral pink bedsheets and her laptop on her lap, a bag of chips next to her. She immediately frowned upon taking one look at Mia, “What happened?” She questioned urgently.
Mia’s shoulders deflated a bit and she let out a rugged sigh, that lump back in her throat, “I don’t – nothing.” She settled on, a sigh leaving her as she remembered how her and Harry had just been left in silence until he mumbled something under his breath and bolted out of the door.
She didn’t sign off on his session, so it didn’t even technically count as one. Afterwards, she had gotten scolded for it by professor Dillon. He hadn’t followed the session along so he had no idea what had been said, all he knew was that Harry left after about fifteen minutes instead of an hour, and that he had looked even angrier when leaving then when entering.
Mia stood small in front of professor Dillon, her arms protectively crossed in front of herself – even if it was a stance that her parents disapproved of because it was impolite – while he reprimanded her. It was quite familiar to Mia, she felt like she had been reprimanded her entire life.
Her parents had never been too liberal with their compliments, which is why praise from anyone – including Hazel – made her beam so much.
“Hey, Mia, come on.” Hazel frowned in worry and Mia shrugged, “Just – uh, a bad therapy session. Well, m-my first bad therapy session. I was just starting to think that I might be good at it but this… this guy showed up a-and I just didn’t get anywhere and I completely choked up.” Mia started rambling, her voice jumping a little as her words followed one another quickly. She looked anywhere but at Hazel as she was one big ball of worry now.
Her grades weren’t the best and that volunteer therapy thing she did was really just to get her a little extra credit. If she failed that too, Mia was sure she’d have to redo her year and the look on her parents face if she had to give them that news, was something she’d rather avoid.
Hazel shot her sympathetic eyes, “Babe, hey… Not all people open up as easily, you know that. And also, you’ve just started this thing! It doesn’t mean you’re a shit therapist or that you’ve chosen the wrong degree, you just need more experience. I’m sure it won’t be your last client behaving like that… some people are just not meant for therapy.”
“I know.” Mia murmured, keeping her eyes low until she sighed again, shifting from one foot to the other, “Can I just… climb in bed for a minute? And cry a little bit? I won’t make much noise.”
Hazel exhaled and nodded quicker than Mia had assumed. Her hand worked on opening up her blankets and Mia exhaled in relief when she slowly padded over, carefully climbing into Hazel’s pink bed. She snuggled a little into the free pillow, avoiding Hazel’s look on her as the first tears came running down.
She couldn’t believe she still had seven sessions left with Harry. Well – eight. Maybe he had changed his mind after all, rather digging into his savings to pay for the expensive book case he broke than spend more time with Mia.
A gentle stroke of Hazel’s fingers through her hair was what made Mia cry a little harder. The disappointment in herself was one thing, but the disappointment that her parents would feel when they found out about this – was another.
She had to turn this around, she couldn’t just fail this subject too. Mia couldn’t fail.
Thought of the day; AU where Harry is a primary school teacher and he’s literally the sweetest with the kids in the class and they all buy him presents and draw him pictures and he comes home and fills your fridge with them and talks so animatedly about them and he INSISTS he doesn’t have favourites but you know he does and it’s the ones that have low confidence or are a little goofy and he has the strongest no bullying policies ever and all his class kids have the sweetest manners and you just wish he’d impregante u already because he’s so cute with them
Y/N x Professor Harry Styles share a secret passion that could destroy them both. Crossing the line means risking everything.
Author's note: Hello! As you know Love Island is coming to an end. So, I decided to post the first part of the Crave just so none of you run out of reading material for this weekend after the last chapter is posted on Friday. Let me know what you think!
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The wooden doors of the lecture hall groaned softly as Y/N slipped inside, her movements quick but measured. She’d never been the type to enjoy being late—especially to his class—but today, her mind was elsewhere. She found a seat near the back, heart still fluttering from the hurried walk across campus.
Professor Harry Styles hadn’t started speaking yet, standing at the front of the room, quietly observing the room. His presence alone commanded attention—a stillness that felt more intense than the bustling energy of the students around him. Even from where Y/N sat, she could feel the weight of it.
She swallowed, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin as she pulled out her notebook, stealing a glance toward him. He didn’t seem to notice her entrance, his gaze fixed on something—or someone—else. Yet, something in the air made her feel as though he had seen her the moment she walked in. He always noticed.
Y/N shook off the thought and refocused, gripping her pen, trying to quiet the thoughts stirring in her mind. It had only been a week since that strange encounter in the library, where they had exchanged a few words—polite, distant, yet there was an undertone she couldn’t quite place.
Harry’s voice broke through the silence, low and deliberate. “Today’s topic is boundaries.”
Her breath caught. Of course, it would be.
He turned toward the whiteboard, writing the word in bold strokes. It was simple, and yet it felt heavy with meaning as the chalk scratched across the surface. Y/N shifted in her seat, wondering if he knew how that word lingered between them, unspoken.
The lecture carried on, but Y/N found it impossible to focus. Harry’s voice was calm and steady, the kind of voice that demanded you listen, that pulled you in even if you didn’t want to be drawn so close. She kept her gaze low, pretending to scribble notes, but every time his voice dipped into something more intense, she felt a pull in her chest.
Her eyes flicked up briefly, catching the way his hand moved across the desk, the strength in the veins of his forearms as he gestured toward the board. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tanned skin, and Y/N had to force her gaze away before anyone noticed.
What bothered her most was how unaware he seemed of the effect he had. There was no smirk, no glance her way, no sign that he even remembered her as more than just another student. But that didn’t stop the feeling that coiled in her stomach every time they were in the same room.
When the class ended, Y/N was quick to gather her things, eager to escape the charged air of the lecture hall. She was almost at the door when she heard his voice again.
“Miss Y/L/N.”
She froze, heart racing. Slowly, she turned around, her hands clutching her bag strap a little too tightly. “Yes, Professor?”
Harry stood at the front of the room, still sorting through papers, but his tone was casual, indifferent even. “I’d like to discuss your last paper, if you have a moment.”
There was nothing strange about the request, nothing inappropriate about it. But her stomach twisted all the same.
She nodded and walked back down the aisle, each step heavier than the last. By the time she reached his desk, the room was empty, leaving only the two of them. Harry’s attention seemed to be fixed on the papers in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration.
He looked up only briefly, his gaze flicking to hers before returning to the papers. “You’ve written well,” he began, his voice as measured as ever. “But I can tell your focus has been... divided lately.”
Y/N’s heart stuttered. Was it a critique? Or something else? She licked her lips nervously. “I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
Harry hummed softly, almost as if in thought, his eyes still on the paper. “Understandable,” he said, flipping a page. “But I’d hate to see your potential go unrealized.”
The statement hung between them, strangely intimate for what should have been a routine discussion. There was no accusation in his tone, nothing that suggested he had noticed more than just her academic performance. And yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that his words carried weight beyond their surface.
“I’ll do better,” she said, though her voice was softer than she intended.
Harry finally looked up again, his eyes meeting hers with a steady gaze that sent a chill down her spine. For a moment, she wondered if she was imagining it—the tension, the unspoken things between them. He seemed so composed, so unaffected, while her own heart raced in her chest.
“I’m sure you will,” he replied simply, his tone polite, neutral.
And just like that, the moment passed. Whatever she thought she might have seen in his gaze was gone, leaving her feeling foolish for reading too much into it. He turned his attention back to the papers, clearly dismissing her, and she let out a quiet breath, relieved and yet disappointed at the same time.
“Thank you, Professor,” she said softly before turning to leave, feeling his presence like a shadow behind her.
As she walked out of the room, her mind raced with questions. Had she misread him all along? Or was there something hidden beneath his calm exterior, something darker that he kept carefully veiled? She couldn’t be sure.
All she knew was that whatever it was between them—it was far from over.
Y/N’s footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, her mind buzzing with the memory of Harry’s gaze. She should have felt relieved that he hadn’t called her out for anything too specific, yet that brief exchange had left her unsettled.
Her phone buzzed, breaking her thoughts. She fished it out of her pocket, glancing at the screen: a message from her best friend, Liv.
"How was class? Any more moments with Mr. Unattainable?" Liv had a knack for teasing her about Harry, ever since Y/N had once, in a moment of weakness, mentioned how attractive he was.
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "Class was fine. No, stop exaggerating," she typed back quickly, though her fingers hesitated. There was no way she was about to confess how his voice had almost made her heart stop when he’d called her name.
The truth was, she didn’t understand it herself. She had no reason to be so affected by him—he was her professor, after all. Yet, ever since that first class, there had been something about Harry Styles that lingered with her long after the lecture ended. The quiet control he exuded, the way his words dripped with intellect and confidence, how he seemed perfectly oblivious to how his presence could command a room without effort.
She let out a frustrated sigh, tucking her phone away. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t some schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher. But she couldn’t deny the fact that when she thought about Harry, it wasn’t just admiration for his mind or his teaching methods. There was a physical awareness too, something magnetic that made her pulse quicken whenever he was near.
By the time Y/N made it to the campus café, her mind was still spinning with thoughts she shouldn’t be having. She grabbed a coffee, needing the warmth and caffeine to shake the lingering unease from her bones.
As she settled into a corner booth, opening her laptop to review her notes, her gaze kept drifting toward the window. She didn’t expect to see anyone familiar, but every once in a while, her thoughts circled back to him.
Was it wrong? Was it really just in her head? That gaze earlier—it had felt like something. Or was she reading too much into it, twisting normal interactions into something they weren’t? It didn’t help that Liv’s constant teasing about “Professor Dreamy” had planted ideas in her head she couldn’t quite shake.
Just then, a shadow moved across her table, and Y/N’s heart lurched into her throat. She looked up, eyes widening slightly in surprise.
Harry Styles stood before her, his expression unreadable.
"Mind if I join you?" His voice was smooth, yet his tone made it sound like more of a statement than a question.
Y/N’s pulse stuttered as she nodded, forcing herself to appear calm, even as her mind raced. What was he doing here? It was a large campus—he could’ve gone anywhere—but here he was, sliding into the seat across from her with an ease that both unsettled and intrigued her.
Harry set his coffee down and leaned back in the chair, his presence overwhelming even in this casual setting. His eyes, a deep shade of green, flicked to her laptop briefly before returning to hers, as if assessing something.
“You looked like you were in deep thought,” he remarked, a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips. It was a subtle observation, but his gaze lingered a fraction longer than necessary, making her feel exposed.
Y/N cleared her throat, trying to gather her thoughts. “Just catching up on notes,” she said, forcing a smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Harry’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but there was something about the way he leaned forward slightly that made her heart skip. “I frequent this place often,” he said simply. “Though I don’t usually run into my students outside of class.”
There it was again—that carefully controlled neutrality in his tone. She couldn’t tell if he was making small talk or implying something deeper. It was maddening.
“I guess it’s a coincidence,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice steady. But she could feel it—the undercurrent of tension pulling them closer, threading through the seemingly innocent conversation.
Harry raised an eyebrow, watching her with a quiet intensity. “Do you believe in coincidences?”
His question hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. There was something about the way he was looking at her—like he was testing her, challenging her to acknowledge the unspoken tension that had been simmering ever since that first glance in class.
Before she could formulate an answer, Harry’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it briefly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he stood.
“Another time, perhaps,” he said smoothly, gathering his things. “I’ll see you in class, Miss Y/L/N.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N sitting alone, her heart pounding and her mind whirling with questions. The conversation had been brief, but it was enough to set her on edge.
What did he mean by coincidences? Was there more to that question than she realized?
Y/N stared at the empty seat across from her, frustration and curiosity churning inside her. She had no idea what game Harry Styles was playing, or if there was even a game at all.
But something told her this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross outside the lecture hall.
Y/N sat in her apartment that evening, nervously adjusting her costume in front of the mirror. She and Liv had been planning to attend a Halloween party on campus for weeks, and Y/N had finally settled on a daring outfit: a sleek, black cat costume that hugged her curves in all the right places. The fitted bodysuit clung to her figure, the fabric shimmering slightly under the light, with a daringly low neckline that accentuated her collarbone and added a touch of allure.
The suit left her legs bare, the material stopping just below her hips, showcasing her smooth, toned thighs. She wore black heels that elongated her legs, making them appear endless and adding a sultry confidence to her stride. Each step felt powerful, her high heels clicking against the floor, a stark contrast to the soft fabric of her costume.
To complete the look, she adorned herself with a pair of playful cat ears and a thin tail that swayed behind her, giving her a playful edge. Y/N could see herself in the mirror, her reflection bold and unashamed. She felt good in her skin, caught up in the thrill of the night ahead—one filled with dancing, laughter, and maybe a little mischief.
The thought of running into Harry flickered briefly in her mind, but she brushed it aside, determined to enjoy the party without overthinking her attire. Tonight was about having fun and celebrating, not getting tangled up in complicated feelings.
“Are you ready yet?” Liv called from the living room, her voice slightly slurred from the pre-party drinks. “We’re going to be late!”
“Almost!” Y/N called back, taking one last look at herself. She felt powerful and fierce, ready to own the night.
“C’mon, I need you to approve of my costume!” Liv barged into the room, wearing a bright, revealing witch outfit complete with a feathered hat. She spun around dramatically, her long hair swaying. “What do you think? Am I hot or what?”
Y/N laughed, the tension easing a bit. “You look amazing! Just don’t make me drag you home” Referring to the multiple times that she had to carry her across campus back to their apartment.
Liv winked, grabbing her bag and tossing Y/N a mischievous grin. “No promises! Now let’s go, I want to dance!”
As they made their way to the party, the campus buzzed with excitement. Halloween decorations adorned the buildings, and students in various costumes milled about, laughter and music echoing in the cool night air. Y/N felt a thrill run through her as they approached the venue, a popular fraternity house that was known for its raucous parties.
On the way, they decided to take a shortcut through a quieter part of campus. That’s when Y/N spotted him.
Harry Styles emerged from the gym, a towel draped around his neck and wearing a loose fitted tank top that showcased his toned arms. His hair was slightly damp, and he looked effortlessly handsome—exuding the same confidence that had captivated her in class. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her earlier bravado instantly replaced by embarrassment.
“Shit, is that—?” Liv started, her voice slurring slightly as she squinted in the dim light.
Before Y/N could stop her, Liv straightened, her playful demeanor shining through the haze of her tipsiness. “Hey, Professor Styles!” she called out, a cheeky grin plastered on her face.
Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as Harry turned his gaze toward them, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Liv, Y/N,” he greeted, his tone friendly yet laced with curiosity. His eyes flickered over their costumes, and Y/N couldn’t tell if he was amused or shocked.
“Looks like you two are ready for a big night,” he said, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.
Y/N could feel her stomach twist with embarrassment, acutely aware of the way she was dressed. She glanced at Liv, who was practically bouncing on her feet, clearly emboldened by the drinks she’d had. “Yeah, just heading to the party! You should come by and join us!” Liv said, her words spilling out a little too quickly.
“Liv!” Y/N hissed, mortified. This was not the conversation she had envisioned. The last thing she wanted was for Harry to see her friend flirting like this.
Harry chuckled, the sound low and rich, and Y/N felt a mix of relief and frustration at the way it sent warmth through her. “I appreciate the invite, but I think I’ll pass,” he replied, his gaze still locked on Y/N, as if trying to gauge her reaction.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun! You could let loose for one night,” Liv pressed, tilting her head with a playful smile, completely oblivious to Y/N’s discomfort. “Besides, we’d love to see you in a costume!”
Harry shook his head, laughter dancing in his eyes. “I think I’m better off here, thanks. Maybe next year?”
Y/N felt like she might combust. Next year? As if they’d still be in the same orbit then. “Uh, right. Maybe,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, you should really think about it,” Liv chimed in, clearly enjoying the banter. She nudged Y/N, a teasing sparkle in her eyes. “I mean, we’re all just trying to have a little fun, right?”
Harry’s gaze flicked back to Y/N, his expression softening slightly. “You’re right, fun is important. Just make sure you’re safe tonight.”
Y/N swallowed hard, struggling to keep her composure. The concern in his voice felt personal, like he genuinely cared about their well-being. “We will,” she promised, forcing a smile despite the heat flooding her cheeks.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your night. Enjoy yourselves,” he said, taking a step back.
As he turned to walk away, Liv leaned into Y/N, her eyes wide with excitement. “Did you see that? He was totally checking you out!”
“What? No!” Y/N protested, though her heart raced at the thought. “He was just being polite.”
“Polite? He was practically undressing you with his eyes! Come on, don’t act like you didn’t feel that!” Liv giggled, already pulling Y/N toward the party.
Y/N tried to shake off the feeling, but as they walked away, she glanced back at Harry, who was now disappearing into the shadows of the campus. The look he had given her lingered in her mind, an intoxicating blend of desire and danger.
The party loomed ahead, pulsing with music and laughter, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was just the beginning.
As Y/N and Liv stepped into the party, the pulse of music hit them like a wave, vibrant and intoxicating. The room was filled with bodies dancing under dim, flickering lights, laughter and cheers blending into a thrilling cacophony. The atmosphere buzzed with energy, and Y/N felt herself being swept away, the earlier embarrassment fading as she embraced the night.
“Let’s get some drinks!” Liv shouted over the music, her eyes sparkling with excitement. They made their way to the makeshift bar, where red solo cups overflowed with punch and various alcoholic concoctions.
Y/N poured herself a drink, the sweet taste sliding down her throat with a comforting burn. She felt the warmth of the alcohol spreading through her, loosening her nerves. Maybe this was what she needed—a distraction, a chance to dance, to forget for a while.
As they moved through the crowd, Liv grabbed Y/N's hand and led her to the center of the room, where bodies swayed and mingled. The rhythm of the music thrummed through Y/N, and she found herself letting go, the beat pulling her into the moment.
But even as she danced, her mind kept drifting back to Harry. The way he had looked at her, the flicker of interest in his eyes—it made her heart race and her skin tingle in ways she didn’t fully understand. The tension between them was electric, but the reality of their roles—the professor and the student—loomed over her like a dark cloud.
She needed to shake off those thoughts. Just for tonight.
As if the universe was listening, a guy approached her, a confident grin spreading across his face. He wore a pirate costume, complete with a ruffled shirt and an eye patch that gave him a playful charm. “What’s a pretty cat like you doing here all alone?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his voice a low drawl.
Y/N raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Not alone, I’m with my friend,” she gestured to Liv, who was laughing with a group nearby, completely engrossed in her own conversation.
“Well, I’m glad you’re not alone,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m Shawn, by the way.”
“Y/N,” she replied, a hint of flirtation in her voice. “So, you’re a pirate, huh? Got any treasure to share?”
Shawn chuckled, stepping closer, the heat between them palpable. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of treasure. Just depends on what you’re looking for.” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “What are you in the mood for tonight?”
Y/N felt a spark of excitement, a welcome distraction from her thoughts of Harry. She wanted to forget the lingering glances and the magnetic pull she felt toward him. “I’m looking for something fun,” she replied, her confidence bolstered by the drink.
“Fun, huh? I can definitely help with that,” Shawn said, his gaze lingering on her legs, appreciation evident in his eyes. “Why don’t we grab a drink and see where the night takes us?”
Y/N hesitated for just a moment, then nodded, eager for the distraction. She needed to step away from her complex feelings and embrace the night. “Sure, let’s do it.”
They made their way back to the bar, Shawn’s easy charm making her laugh as he recounted silly stories about past Halloween parties. She found herself genuinely enjoying his company, the flirtation light and carefree, a pleasant contrast to the weight of her feelings for Harry.
As the night went on, they danced and shared drinks, the music enveloping them in a cocoon of excitement. Y/N allowed herself to get lost in the moment, to revel in the attention Shawn offered her. It was fun, thrilling even, to flirt with someone who wasn’t complicated or off-limits.
Yet, even in the midst of the revelry, she felt that familiar twinge in her chest, a reminder of Harry's presence and the tension that crackled between them. The deeper she got into her flirtation with Shawn, the more she realized she was trying to fill a void that Harry had created—one that was proving harder to ignore than she had anticipated
Harry, a private billionaire and devoted father, hires Y/N as his son's nanny. Her kindness stirs unexpected feelings. Will love overcome his guarded life, a jealous girlfriend, and the mystery of Oliver's mother?
Author's note: If you’ve been waiting to binge this story in one go… now’s your chance. Enticing is a finished series, filled with all the slow-burn tension, forbidden chemistry, and emotional twists I love writing most. Every chapter is now up and waiting for you — all fully unlocked on my Patreon.
For just $3, you get instant access to the entire story (plus more exclusives you won’t find anywhere else 👀). Thank you for all the love and support on this series — it means the world. 💌
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Harry's frustration had reached its peak during the carefully planned trip. The purpose behind the getaway was more significant than anyone could fathom. Before Y/N entered his life, settling down was a notion he rarely entertained. The carefree days of bachelorhood had held their charm, but they were now distant memories. The separation from Y/N during those months felt like a prolonged agony, each day an ache for her voice, her vibrant personality, and the comforting texture of her skin.
Their future together held the promise of endless possibilities, and Harry had envisioned the perfect moment to ask the most important question of his life. Yet, every attempt was thwarted by the incessant interference of the bothersome couple. Frustration and disappointment mingled in Harry's gaze as he looked at Y/N.
"Seems like it's getting late," Harry declared abruptly, interrupting the tiresome, trivial conversations with the couple. The desire for some intimate, uninterrupted time alone with Y/N in the sanctuary of their room was becoming irresistible.
The resort room welcomed Harry and Y/N back with a soft glow from the bedside lamps. The rhythmic sound of the waves outside created a serene ambiance, a stark contrast to the frustration simmering within Harry. He needed a moment to collect himself.
“I am going to have a bath” Harry admitted, running a hand through his tousled hair. The night, initially filled with anticipation, had been repeatedly hijacked, leaving him on edge.
“Can I join you?” Y/N said, sensing his agitation, gave him a reassuring smile.
Harry nodded appreciatively and disappeared into the bathroom. Once inside, he decided that a relaxing bath might help him shake off the irritation that clung to him like a persistent shadow.
As the water filled the tub, Harry glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He was a mix of emotions — frustration, anticipation, and a touch of disappointment. The sparkle of the engagement ring nestled in his pocket seemed to mock him, a reminder of the proposal that kept slipping away.
The warm water embraced him as he eased into the bath, closing his eyes to block out the world outside. The subtle aroma of bath salts filled the air, creating a sanctuary within the confines of the bathroom.
The gentle lull of the waves failed to drown out the intrusive thoughts that swirled in Harry's mind. He replayed the moments when he had attempted to ask the life-altering question, only to be thwarted by Paige and David's unwelcome appearances.
As Harry soaked in the warmth, the tension began to dissolve. He thought about Y/N waiting just beyond the bathroom door, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Determination flickered in his eyes.
As the warm water embraced him, Harry found solace in the soothing confines of the bathtub. The flickering candlelight added a soft glow to the bathroom, creating an intimate atmosphere. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Y/N quietly entering the room until she stood at the edge of the bathtub.
“Hi” She smiled as she took off her clothes and slip into the hot water on the other side of the bathtub.
Y/N gracefully slipped into the water, settling in front of him. The warmth of the bath and the closeness of their bodies created an unspoken connection. Harry welcomed the comfort of her presence, feeling the tension melt away.
Y/N traced circles on the water's surface with her fingertips. "What's been bothering you, honey? You seemed a bit off tonight.”
Harry sighed, grateful for the understanding in her eyes. "I had plans for tonight, plans that kept getting interrupted. I wanted everything to be perfect, especially for you.”
Y/N's gaze softened. "Everything is perfect. We're here, together, and that's what matters.” She caressed his leg under the water.
He nodded, appreciating her perspective. "You're right, love. It's just... I wanted tonight to be special, and it felt like every time I tried, something got in the way.”
In the soft glow of candlelight, Harry's eyes locked with Y/N's, and a tender smile graced his lips. The warm water enveloped them, creating a cocoon of intimacy. As he reached out for her hand, his voice, filled with emotion, began to paint a scene of love.
"Y/N," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of all the love he felt. "From the moment I met you, my life changed. You brought colors to my world that I didn't know existed. You're my anchor, my partner in every adventure, and the love of my life.”
Y/N's eyes shimmered with understanding and affection as she held his gaze, captivated by the sincerity in his voice.
"And, well, I had this whole grand plan for tonight," Harry continued, a touch of vulnerability in his tone. "I wanted it to be perfect, because you deserve nothing less.”
He took a deep breath, his fingers gently caressing hers. "Y/N, will you make every day brighter, every moment richer, and every future better by being my wife? Will you marry me?"
As Harry spoke the question that had been lingering in his heart, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Y/N's response. A tear slid down her cheek, carrying with it the depth of her emotions.
"Yes, Harry," she whispered, her voice a symphony of love. "A thousand times, yes."
Harry's hand reached out of the water, grabbing his pants. He fumbled for a moment before pulling out a small red box. The Cartier logo adorned the elegant packaging, and Y/N's eyes widened with surprise.
Y/N's breath caught, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Harry..."
He looked at her with a hopeful smile. "Say you'll be mine forever?"
Y/N's heart swelled with emotion. "Yes”
The room was filled with the warmth of their love as Harry slid the ring onto Y/N's finger, sealing their promise in the intimate glow of the candlelit bathroom. The imperfections of the night faded away, leaving only the perfect moment they had created together.
Once the sun-kissed days in Anguilla had faded into cherished memories, Harry and Y/N returned to the States, hand in hand, ready to embark on the next chapter of their journey. The warmth of the Caribbean sun may have been replaced by the crisp air of their hometown, but the glow of their shared experiences lingered.
The townhouse, a charming abode with a history of its own, stood welcomingly as they approached. With keys in hand, they stepped inside, greeted by the echoes of empty rooms and the promise of turning this space into a home.
Over the next few days, Harry and Y/N dove into the process of making the townhouse their own. Boxes were unpacked, revealing memories and mementos from their time in Anguilla—a seashell collected on a morning walk, a framed photo capturing a sunset, and the scent of ocean air lingering in their clothes.
In between arranging furniture and choosing color schemes, the couple found moments to steal kisses in the midst of chaos, laughter bubbling up as they navigated the unfamiliar terrain of assembling furniture.
"I never thought I'd be packing up and moving once more," Y/N sighed, meticulously cleaning the picture frames before carefully arranging them on the mantle above the fireplace in the living room.
Harry, carrying yet another box into the kitchen, flashed a reassuring smile. "This truly is the last time, love. I promise." The process had begun upstairs in the bedrooms and gradually made its way to the ground floor. The rhythmic tasks of unpacking and settling into a new home felt both familiar and promising, a shared endeavor for the couple embarking on this final move.
"Do you think our collection is enough to fill the shelves in the office library?" Y/N questioned, securing the last unpacked box in the living room.
Harry grinned, glancing at the myriad of books around them. "I hope so. But if not, I know you won't hesitate to fill them up with more from the bookstore for your own pleasure." He had embraced her love for reading, gradually turning into a reader himself.
"Feeling hungry?" Harry sprawled on the couch. "I'm starving."
"Thai?" Y/N suggested with a chuckle as Harry reached for his phone. "What's so funny?"
Harry grinned, dialing the restaurant. "Nothing. I just know you've been on a Thai kick since you got pregnant."
The doorbell rang, drawing Y/N's attention. She swung the door wide open, and there stood Michael, Violet, and Alessandro.
"Well, what are you doing here?" Y/N exclaimed, her face lighting up. She pulled them into a group hug.
Alessandro's eyes fell on Y/N's pregnant belly. "You're glowing, really suits you," he said with a warm smile, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
"Come in!" Y/N ushered them inside, the atmosphere instantly filling with laughter and the comfort of cherished friends. “Welcome to our new home”.
"This place is gorgeous," Violet commented as they admired the townhouse. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright. Very tired, but happy."
"No way!" Violet's exclamation caught the attention of both men, and she grabbed Y/N's hand to get a better look at the ring.
"Harry proposed?!" Alessandro's disbelief resonated in his voice. He never imagined Harry settling down and creating a family. "Styles!" he called out, making his way toward the back of the house where the living room was situated. "Congratulations, stronzo!" Alessandro grinned, pulling him into a tight hug.
"What brings you here?" Harry asked, still processing the engagement.
"A baby on the way, a new house, and now you're engaged?! Who are you!" Alessandro chuckled, teasingly expressing his shock at the whirlwind of changes in Harry's life.
"Harry, I didn't know you had it in you," he teased, Michael joined the conversation.
"Well, it seems life has its surprises," Harry replied, glancing at Y/N with a fond smile.
"Let's celebrate!" Violet suggested. "I brought a bottle of champagne. This calls for a toast!"
As they gathered in the living room, Alessandro couldn't help but express his genuine happiness for the couple. "You know, Y/N, I always knew Harry was head over heels for you. It was just a matter of time."
Y/N blushed, appreciating the kind words. "I'm lucky to have him and to have all of you”
The champagne cork popped, and they all raised their glasses for a toast. "To love, happiness, and the future Mr. and Mrs. Styles!" Violet exclaimed.
The clinking of glasses filled the room, marking a joyous moment in the midst of unpacked boxes and the promise of a new chapter in their lives.
Later that evening, as they enjoyed their Thai takeout, Alessandro turned to Harry. "So, when's the big day, mate?"
Harry exchanged a glance with Y/N, and a smile played on his lips. "We haven't decided yet, but we'll let you know. You might have to travel across the ocean for a wedding."
Alessandro chuckled. "I'd cross the ocean for you, Styles. Just let me know when and where."
As the night unfolded with laughter, stories, and shared memories, the new townhouse echoed with the warmth of friendship and the anticipation of a bright future.
Hazel was pretending to be busy in the kitchen while subtly listening in to Mia’s phone call. Her roommate was pacing around the living room, one hand holding the black phone to her ear, the other mindlessly fiddling with a loose thread of her jumper that she was only making worse.
Hazel already knew Mia would feel bad about that one later on, and she’d probably assist as they attempted to sow the jumper back together. It was a soft green one and Hazel knew it was one of Mia’s favourites. Somehow it stood out how Mia always reached for it on days she felt a little under the weather, or on days where she was extra tired and sleepy.
Living with a roommate was new for the both of them, and even if they looked like polar opposites to the outside world, it had been working in their favour so far. Mia and Hazel had been living together for all of two months, and surprisingly last night hadn’t been the first time Mia had stood by the edge of Hazel’s bed, desperately trying to push her tears back before she politely asked if she could get into Hazel’s bed with her to cry her little heart out.
It had shocked Hazel the first time, Mia blatantly asking if she was allowed to show emotion and her needing Hazel’s approval for it. It never went further than this. Hazel never tried to coax anything out of Mia, she never tried to hold her or she never tried to console her. Mia didn’t need any of that, Hazel thought. Just the comforting presence of another silent person near her seemed enough.
It did give Hazel quite a clear view of what Mia’s upbringing had been like.
She stored away some clean dishes silently as Mia hummed and nodded on the phone, her lip nervously tucked into her teeth and her hair in its usual braid, although slightly more messy from being in that hairstyle all day. Mia paced around, sighing and humming, hardly getting a word in between what her parents were talking about. Hazel wasn’t sure if it was her mum or her dad, neither of them really left room for Mia to say much.
The start of the call had been hard to hear, where Mia carefully tried to explain her slipping grades. She was still a great student, Hazel felt. Above average even, but there was just so much pressure from her parents and from Mia herself, that it was never really good enough.
What a life, Hazel thought. She felt sorry for Mia. They lived in a fun apartment, close to campus and they were two young girls leaving home for the first time. They lived close to the nightlife of their student neighbourhood, yet Mia hardly left the apartment. Hazel had known since the beginning that Mia was shy and suffered from some social anxiety, but this was making it worse.
Her friends questioned her mysterious roommate and Hazel defended Mia for not meeting them because they eventually thought she just didn’t want to meet them. Which wasn’t the case.
On the other side of the living room, Mia was on a call with her mother. She was listening to a rant about how she had to pick up her slacking grades or else they’d pull her from the apartment and she’d have to study from home so they could keep an eye on her.
Mia was desperately holding onto the small amount of freedom she had just received weeks ago and definitely was not ready to give it up yet.
“So you’ll get a tutor?” Her mother concluded. Mia sighed out, rubbing her forehead tiredly as she swallowed away the lump in her throat. She had no clue where to even find the time to get tutoring lessons, but she did need it if she wanted to keep living her life this way.
“Yes.” Mia eventually answered and her mother hummed, “Good. And you’re still doing those counselling sessions?”
“Yes.”
The thought alone made Mia’s stomach knot. She had said counselling sessions tomorrow before noon. She had three of them and she had no idea if the first would show up. She hadn’t seen or heard from Harry since he ran out of room two on Monday afternoon. It was a Wednesday evening now and Mia was downright exhausted after meeting a deadline at midnight last night, hardly having time to proofread her work for the fourth time before she had to hand it in.
She got slightly scolded in school today for being so tired during her classes and she sipped more coffee to stay up before tiredly dragging herself home and then receiving a call from her mother.
Hazel had been kind to her, being more mindful around the apartment. Living with Hazel had been fun, but Mia had a hard time letting go of some structural rules she had set for herself. She preferred the dishes to always be done and she couldn’t stand crumbs on the counter. Hazel usually didn’t mind either of those, but Mia noticed how she tried to clean up neatly after herself in the past few days.
It was cute, Mia thought, the small acts of care. She was sure that when she felt a little better about herself, she’d drop the neurotic little traits and be more tolerant to Hazel’s chaos. Hazel had managed to get through some of her own routines into Mia’s life, but with difficulty.
So far, Hazel had coaxed Mia into dropping the pre-chosen week menus. Rather, they chose what to eat on the night itself, an act of spontaneity that Mia was unfamiliar with. She had never gone grocery shopping without a list. And while it was chaotic, it was also fun to load up the cart with whatever they felt like.
So now, every night was a surprise. She had also let go in wanting to cook every night. Rather, Mia opened herself up to whatever Hazel came up with. She was a mess in the kitchen, and while Mia’s fingers itched to clean up the drops of sauce on the cabinets, she refrained herself from doing so.
She was letting go.
But on days like these, where she had a hard time being kind to herself, those old habits resurfaced and she couldn’t help but give into them, tiring herself even more by cleaning neurotically.
“Are you okay?” Hazel asked from behind her as Mia had finished up her phone call. Her lip was red from biting on it so hard all day and she braced herself, putting on a forced smile before turning around and facing her roommate, “Yeah. My mother came up with the idea to get tutoring lessons.”
Hazel’s brow turned into a frown as she waited for the water to boil to make her and Mia some tea, “Tutoring lessons? Mia, you’re a better student than everyone I know.”
Mia ran a nervous hand through her hair, “I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right? For me to understand the material a little better. My grades have been slipping.”
“They really have not.” Hazel sighed, shooting her roommate a sympathetic look, “But if you feel like you have to, you should. I think there’s a link on the school website where you can book tutoring sessions online.”
“Really?” Mia’s head lifted, a slight bounce of anxiety in her chest. She had somehow hoped it was impossible to find a tutor and that she didn’t have to do these lessons, but if the road to tutoring sessions was that easy, there was no way she could skip it.
Hazel nodded, “Yeah. Here, I’ll show you.” She opened up her laptop which sat at the end of the counter and Mia padded over, stifling a yawn while looking over Hazel’s shoulder to follow along. She slowly nodded as Hazel put in some of her information.
“Here,” She pointed to the screen, “there’s a session on neuropsychology tomorrow morning.”
Mia bit her bitten lip again and winced under her breath, “Tomorrow morning?”
“Mhm.” Hazel nodded, “At nine. It’s pretty early and you’re already so tired...” She tried but Mia exhaled a breath, “No, no, I’ll be fine. I think it’s good, it’s one of my most difficult subjects.” She leaned her elbows on the countertop and played with the end of her braid, “Can you sign me up?”
Hazel warily nodded, “I can. Are you sure? You can wait a week, maybe catch up on some sleep… Also, don’t you have those counselling sessions tomorrow?”
Mia palmed her forehead, “Yes, I do. I’ll – uh, I’ll send them an email to reschedule.” Mia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and mentally figure out her schedule. It was around nine in the evening and her and Hazel had dinner not too long ago after she managed to coax Mia out of her room.
She had been studying all evening and her brain felt like it might explode, but she had to do good for this. While Hazel booked Mia’s tutoring session for the next day, Mia pulled out her phone to send a polite and apologetic email to the three appointments she had set the following morning for therapy. She also emailed professor Dillon to let her know of the change in schedule.
She was sure that if she could still schedule them this week, he wouldn’t make an issue out of it. After all, the tutoring sessions were also to boost her study career, much like the therapy sessions.
“Thank you.” Mia sighed once Hazel showed her the confirmation of Mia’s submission into the tutoring session and Hazel shortly nodded, “It’s okay. D’you want some tea?”
“Yes, please.”
While Hazel poured the two of them a mug of hot tea, Mia rolled on the balls of her sore feet, back and forth to get some of the strain out of them. She had worn her new boots this morning and her feet weren’t all that grateful. She made it a point to wear her old ones again tomorrow to grant herself some comfort.
“So when are you going to schedule the three appointments then?” Hazel asked while passing Mia her cup. This one had little pink bows on it and Mia absently smiled at the funky mug from Hazel’s mug collection before clasping her fingers around the hot drink to keep warm.
She nibbled her lip at Hazel’s question, “Uh, maybe Friday after hours?”
“Ooof, on a Friday?”
Mia nodded, “I know. Maybe if it’s just after hours, they won’t mind that I’m picking some of their Friday. Or maybe on the weekend.”
“Mia.” Hazel frowned as if shocked by her words, “You’re not seriously thinking of doing school work like that on a weekend? You’re already doing so much and you study all throughout the weekends, at least grant yourself some time away from campus.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Mia murmured, dropping her eyes. Hazel leaned over the counter, “That dickhead who made you cry on Monday isn’t one of the three appointments, is he?”
“He is.” Mia sighed, remembering how emotional she had felt after her failed counselling session with Harry on Monday. How he stormed out, how he said she looked like she belonged in church, how he didn’t want to speak to her or even look at her. The thought alone made her stomach tight. She hadn’t said much to Hazel about him. First of all, she wasn’t allowed to speak his name because of the confidentiality and the informed consent. Second of all, she didn’t want to betray Harry like that, especially because the nature of the reason why he was in therapy to begin with, was rather… unconventional.
Mia got pink cheeks just remembering the words she had read over and over again. Him and a casual friend in the library, going at it and destroying furniture as they went.
Third of all, she felt like maybe Hazel might know Harry. He said he was still redoing some first year subjects and studied philosophy, so chances were big they at least had a couple of classes together. He didn’t exactly strike me as someone who always went to his classes, but the campus was rather small and most people knew the others in their study group.
“Thank you for the tea.” Mia mumbled, “I’m going to take a quick shower and then revise some more for neuropsychology before going to bed.”
Hazel shot her a look, shaking her head at Mia’s inability to leave work behind. She didn’t say anything though, and Mia took her cup of tea before disappearing into the bathroom. She stared at her puffy, tired eyes in the mirror while taking out her braid. Her long brown hair laid in waves over her shoulders and she used the strength her arms had left to put it all up in a high bun before she hopped into the warm shower.
With each passing second, she knew she wouldn’t be able to revise anymore before tomorrow’s tutoring session. Her brain was clouded and she felt a little shaken up after the phone call to her mum. Her parents weren’t the most understanding, and even if she knew she was above average in her grades and most people thought she was such a teacher’s pet, it never was really going to be enough.
She didn’t think her parents had ever really been proud of her.
The entire thing made her nervous and provided her with an anxiety she couldn’t shake, which was an indication that she wouldn’t be able to read anymore tonight. Feeling like this had great effects on her dyslexia. Another thing her parents were slightly in denial about. They couldn’t understand that being dyslexic also meant that she had more trouble processing information and that might be one of the reasons she was a bit slower than they had expected her to be.
Leaving the bathroom, she took the remainder of her tea and disappeared into her room, noticing that Hazel’s door was already closed and she was watching something on her laptop in bed. Flicking on the lights in her room, the busy cluttered desk with stacks of her books made Mia wince a little under her breath. It was a constant reminder of all the work she had yet to do.
They each had a small bedroom here, Hazel’s decorated a lot more nicely – Mia thought – than her own. She didn’t have a knack for it. Hazel’s was cluttered in a way that made it very cosy and even though the ‘mess’ gave Mia some anxiety, it also gave her a sense of comfort. Her own room was rather bland. She didn’t have too many knickknacks and when shopping with Hazel, Mia safely chose the plain white bedsheets rather than the floral pink ones that Hazel had picked out for herself.
Tomorrow was bound to be another long day. She didn’t have classes in the morning but they carried on through the afternoon until late in the evening. She’d only get home around seven thirty and she wanted to stay in the library for a bit before heading home. The free morning was usually filled up with therapy and from tomorrow on, those tutoring sessions.
She could only hope that the rescheduling didn’t make Harry more angry with her.
----------------------
Mia was wrong.
It was lunchtime when she sat with her eyes half closed and her breadbox in front of her. She chewed on some pieces of cucumber and carrots that she had sliced the evening before to make a quick getaway this morning.
Message from: Hazel
How did it go? Are you okay?
The care from her friend warmed Mia’s heart and she softly smiled at her phone, responding to Hazel that she was fine and that the tutoring session had gone alright.
The tutor – a girl a few years above her – had explained some of the course material. She was a little baffled upon finding out that Mia already knew quite a bit and then explained that she usually assisted students who struggled way more than her. Still, she went over some of the harder parts with Mia and let her do some questionnaires about neuropsychology to prepare her for exams.
So with one hour and a half of lunch time, Mia sat down at her usual table far in the back. She once more pushed away some dirty trays left there by students before cleaning up her area a little. Hazel was studying at a friend’s house today but it still warmed Mia’s heart that she checked up on her like this.
“Are you serious?!”
The sharp, angry tone of Harry’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Mia jumped up in surprise, near dropping her phone as she quickly lifted her head to see Harry standing over her table with a scowl on his face.
Mia noticed the deep green of his eyes again, tendrils of floppy chestnut hair laid over his forehead with little drops falling from them. He had been caught in today’s drizzle recently, that was obvious. If not by his hair, then by his wet overcoat. It resembled the colour of his eyes, Mia noticed, and covered up a thick black cable jumper he wore underneath.
“I’m sorry.” Mia instantly peeped, unsure of where this conversation was going but she could sense Harry’s annoyance and she felt the immediate need to apologise. Harry frowned down at her, letting his own eyes rack over her appearance as she so unsubtly did to him.
Beneath his bubbling anger, he did notice how tired her dark blue eyes were and how shadowy the bags underneath them were. She stared up at him with a rounded gaze, shock written all over her pale face at his little outburst.
Harry had woken up nicely on time to try and give his counselling sessions with Mia a second shot. He truly could not afford to pay for that stupid ancient bookcase and hyped himself up, telling himself he could get through eight hours of talking about his sex life to a stranger. He didn’t see any issue in what had happened. Sex was human and it was natural, maybe the location of it had been unconventional, but he didn’t understand why he was punished like this.
Punished by putting him in the same room as Mia Brown, who looked at him like she was scared of him even upon opening that door to room two the first moment they met. She looked fragile, even more now that she was clearly sleep-deprived.
The second Harry saw the guilt on her face, his features softened a little bit.
Skipping out on an evening with his friends to meet Mia on time – nine in the morning was the earliest he had been anywhere recently so that was a challenge on its own – only to read her email from late last night telling him she couldn’t make it. And then the email had a bunch of typos in it too, something Harry just found plain impolite from her part.
He felt the wet droplets of his hair dripping down onto his shoulders after he made a run through campus to grab some lunch. He had been unable to fall back asleep after his early alarm and had been sulking and angry the entire morning before getting ready for class.
And then he saw her. At the far end table, by herself, her eyes on her phone as she slowly nibbled on some carrots.
He exhaled a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down a little, “When can we reschedule?”
Mia swallowed the piece of carrot in her mouth, surprised to find him in front of her. She blushed at just how shocked she felt, casting her eyes down as she laid her phone on the table and then flicked them back up to Harry.
She was just about to speak when someone walked by and dropped an empty bag with food scraps on the table, making Mia jolt up once more at the unexpected noise. Harry glanced at it too, frowning harder at the filth being dropped on the table where Mia was eating.
“Hey.” He bit at the guy who had dropped the garbage. He turned around with raised brows and Harry shot him an angry look, “Can you just put your garbage in the trash can? She’s eating here, it’s disrespectful.”
Mia didn’t say anything, near feeling the need to apologise in his name. If there was one thing she hated the most in the world, it was confrontation. She had never been good at it.
The guy didn’t seem very intimidated by Harry’s words as he just shrugged and continued walking. Harry sighed and used the side of his hand to brush the trash to the side before he slid back the chair opposite Mia, surprising her more when he sat down.
Mia fidgeted on her seat a little uncomfortably before clearing her throat, “You don’t have to sit down, you know?” She timidly spoke.
Harry frowned, “What?”
“W-With me.” She clarified, trying to make her voice sound heard instead of the usual mumbling and whispering she did. She shifted again, “You don’t have to sit with me.”
Harry stared at her for a moment, noticing how she uncomfortably looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was staring at this interaction. He wanted to tell her that this was university and that people honestly didn’t care, but he just kept my mouth closed and stared at her a little more. She refused to look into Harry’s eyes, something he had noticed on Monday as well.
“I don’t mind sitting with you. Why are you sitting here anyway? Everyone knows this is the trash table.”
Mia played with the end of her braid and crossed her legs the other side, shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t know. There wasn’t room anywhere else.”
Harry shrugged off his wet coat and rolled up the sleeves of his cable jumper a little, just enough to expose his forearms. Mia’s eyes curiously dragged up the exposed piece of tan skin, her shock only rising when she saw the tattoos littering his skin. She hadn’t expected those to be there, her head tilting to the side as she tried to read an ink around his wrist but the way his arm was laying down, prevented her from seeing the final few letters.
Harry had never attempted a conversation with someone who just refused to… talk. Like Mia did. She just left so much silence and it made him so uncomfortable. He clasped his fingers together, breaking her spell of staring at his tattoos and she lifted her eyes, nibbling on her lip which Harry noticed was swollen and raw.
“I-I’m sorry about the cancellation. Something just came up.” Mia explained and Harry exhaled a breath, “I understand, but we don’t all have a fluid schedule like you do.” He couldn’t help the little dig, still feeling angry about her need to reschedule right after he decided to give it another go.
Mia felt a pang to her chest at Harry’s harsh words. He hadn’t liked her since the first second, and she had no idea why.
“I signed up for tutoring at the last moment. This morning was the only available time slot this week.” She murmured, keeping her eyes low. Harry took notice of the raspiness of her voice and at the explanation she gave him, his shoulders deflated, “Oh.”
Harry knew what it was like to struggle with the course materials better than most people. He struggled last year and eventually kind of gave up, meaning he had to redo some of his subjects from the first year and was behind already even if he had just started. Mia, explaining to him that she needed tutoring, actually pulled on a heartstring because he had thought often about signing up for tutoring.
“Psychology, right? I heard the first year is the toughest.” He spoke. Mia lifted her eyes in surprise at his words, seeing how he stared at his fingers. Much like last time, he wore a few silver rings on some of them. She had been too busy staring at the tattoos earlier that she hadn’t even properly noticed the rings.
Harry was broad-shouldered and his form kind of shielded her from the rest of the cafeteria, a feeling she quite liked. Mia felt like a lot of times she preferred to hide.
“So about the rescheduling, how about tomorrow after class? I’m free after four.” Mia spoke, glancing at her calendar on her phone. Harry gave it a look too, seeing it only upside down but the array of appointments and colours in there made him frown, “You have a busy schedule.” He remarked.
“Oh.” Mia tucked a strand of loose brown hair behind her ear, “I-I gave each subject a different colour.” She explained and Harry frowned deeper, “Wait, that’s all for studying?”
Mia flicked her eyes up at him and blushed a little in embarrassment at how much of a nerd she seemed to be, “Yes.”
Harry scratched the back of his neck, “Well – uh… Tomorrow at four is not the best time. How about next week? You seem tired, maybe you should use tomorrow after school to just relax or hang out with friends.” He suggested.
Mia shot him a small smile, grateful for his suggestion and the care for how she spent her time, “That’s alright. I need the extra credit.”
“W- oh.” Harry blurted in sheer realisation before his eyes widened, “You… you give therapy for extra credit?”
Mia took a slow sip of her water bottle and nodded slowly, “Yes.”
“Shit.” He mumbled, rubbing his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it away from his forehead which Mia felt like suited him a lot. Harry shamefully looked down, “I’m sorry I gave you such a shit time before. About volunteering and not needing the money. It was a dick move.” He apologised, now realising Mia only volunteered to lift up her grades, much like she took tutoring sessions for that same reason. Once more, he felt kind of connected in how he used to try everything to attempt and keep his grades up. He never went this far in spending all his time on school, but he couldn’t hold it against Mia that she kept trying. He should’ve done the same thing last year.
“It’s okay,” Mia shook her head, “you don’t have to apologise, I know how it looked.” She tried not to focus on the swear words he used so easily while they felt so foreign to her, even just hearing them. Harry shook his head too, “No, it’s not okay. I made a judgement while you were only trying to help.”
Mia fiddled with her earlobe, unsure of how to take his words. It sounded like a compliment, but then again it would seem foreign of Harry to just compliment her after being very distant the entire time. She felt like they just weren’t compatible as two people. So much so that even a conversation was difficult. She hoped Harry could feel that she was trying.
“Speaking of that,” Harry cleared his throat, deciding to use this to steer the conversation into another thing he wanted to talk to her about. He pulled a sheet out of his backpack and straightened it a little before laying it on the table, “you never signed off on the first session.”
Mia stared at the copy of the informed consent form that both her and Harry signed at the beginning of the first session. She saw her name and signature on there, as well as his, before there was a grid with eight rows. She was supposed to fill in the date and put down a stamp and her signature to sign off on each of the eight sessions that would put Harry in the clear of having to pay for the broken bookcase.
She nibbled her lip, immediately feeling uncomfortable again by having to turn him down, “You – uh… you didn’t follow the session. So I can’t sign off.” She mumbled carefully.
Harry frowned, “I was there, wasn’t I?”
“You were.” Mia nodded slowly while trying to stand her ground, “For about fifteen minutes. The sessions are an hour.” Everything inside of her was itching to just put her signature down and get this conversation over with.
“Fuck.” Harry breathed, leaning back into his seat and harshly grabbing the sheet again before folding it completely crookedly and stuffing it back into his backpack, “So we have to start over again?” He sounded disappointed and frustrated all over again.
Mia hardly dared looking at him but eventually did lift her eyes, “Yes.” Her voice cracked slightly and she knew it wasn’t doing any good to show how self-conscious she was about standing up to someone like this. Harry sighed and crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge out.
Even with Harry’s anger directed towards her, Mia couldn’t deny that he was very beautiful to look at. She felt like every pair of eyes in the room was immediately glued to him when he walked in. He had this aura, this magnetism about him. She found it hard to focus on whatever she was thinking about when he was in front of her. Especially when he was this close and she could feel the warmth of his knee radiating to hers underneath the table, and she could inhale the subtle lingering scent of perfume around him.
She could see the little birthmark by the left corner of his mouth, and once again found herself mesmerised by his imperfections. He made them look so effortless and if anything, they only made him more gorgeous. Little smile wrinkles by the corners of his eyes, the drops falling from his dark hair, the remainder of chipped nail polish on some of his nails and Mia swore she could see a faint scar of a piercing that once decorated the right side of his nostril. She instantly imagined what he would look like with a little silver hoop pierced through his nose.
“Well,” Harry sighed, leaning his elbows on the table and shrugging, “can we just do that first session now? How long do you have?”
Mia raised her brows, “Now? Like, h-here? We’re in a cafeteria."
“So?” He shrugged again, “Didn’t seem like you were busy. First one now, second one tomorrow at four?”
“I’ve…” She let out a shaky breath, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to do them so quickly in a row.”
“Mia.” He rolled his eyes and she shuddered slightly just from the way her name sounded rolling off of his pink lips. Like he had been saying it all his life, like it was so natural, “It’s just talking. I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Mia was almost too busy staring at the way his lips moved to even properly hear anything he said. Harry caught on, narrowing his eyes, “Hello?”
“Oh.” She straightened up, “I-I’m sorry, what?” Her neck turned red from embarrassment but Harry didn’t seem to notice, simply reaching into his bag to pick out a pen and a little notebook, “I said it’s just talking so I’ll manage.” He slid the notebook and pen over to her side of the table, bumping into the tray that held the remainder of her food, “Here. To take your notes.”
Mia curled her lips inside of her mouth, staring at the pen he pulled out. It was pink and sparkly and she loved it immediately. The notebook was plain black and the edges had been a bit roughed up. It looked like something he had used a lot.
The second Mia sighed and opened up the notebook, Harry smiled slightly upon realising she was giving in. He drummed his fingers on the table in victory as she skimmed through the pages to find the first fully empty one. Mia’s brows knitted into a small frown, “Are you sure I can write in this? Don’t you need that?”
“Nah, it’s just old stuff.” Harry waved it away. Mia paused on one of the pages to study his scribbly handwriting, wondering if he wrote all of this while paying attention in class and if so, did he use his pink sparkly pen to do so? She could hardly read the words and eventually just settled on an empty page.
She straightened up and then gently pushed her tray to the side to make room for the notebook. She hardly dared lifting her eyes to stare into his, knowing full well the effect his green irises had on the feeling of her limbs. Harry rummaged his bag again before taking out a little jar, opening it up to pick out a piece of gum. He popped it in his mouth, the air immediately lingering in fresh spearmint before he held out the jar for her, “Gum?”
Mia blinked twice before managing to shake her head, “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”
Harry nodded and chucked the jar of gum away again while Mia fully swooned over the way his jaw sharpened with each chew on the piece in his mouth. He sat up again and exhaled a breath, “So, how does this work?”
Mia had to force herself out of her daydreams about the student in front of her, unsure of what to do with all these hot and inappropriate thoughts. She cleared her throat, trying to seem as if she had her act together, “Well, usually I have some sort of file with a little bit of information about you and why you’re here.” She explained.
He huffed humorously, “We’ve established that, no? I fucked someone in the library and defiled school property.” He shrugged. Mia’s eyes widened at the use of his blunt vocabulary and she shifted in her seat, “R-Right.” Her throat sounded dry.
“So, you’re going to like heal me? Make me do abstinence?” He teased, “Should I call you Dr. Phil?”
It was Mia’s turn to huff out a chuckle, keeping her eyes on the open notebook in front of her while fiddling with the earring in her lobe again, “Definitely not. And ‘m not here to heal you in any way. This is just talking.”
“You’re going to lurk around my soul, aren’t you?” He continued his teasing, “Isn’t that what psychology is?”
“You know a lot about psychology?” Mia questioned and Harry shrugged, “I know I usually don’t agree with it.”
Mia clicked open her pen, “How do you mean?”
Harry leaned back into his seat and pressed his lips together with a shrug, “It’s really uptight to me. It’s why I prefer my field, philosophy. The purpose is to solve things that occur in real life, like real problems. Not people following their human urges and having sex, that’s not a problem.”
Mia puckered her lips in thought, “It might be when it’s in a public space.”
“You psychologists and your need for intervention.” Harry sighed with a shake of his head, “I’ll never understand. Did you know psychology stems from philosophy?”
“I do.” Mia nodded and Harry hummed, “First psychology student I know who can admit defeat that easily.”
She chuckled and shrugged, “It’s not defeat, it’s not a race. It’s just history and the truth. Both can coexist.”
“Yeah, but… I don’t know, psychology is so biological.” Harry spoke in thought and Mia tilted her head to the side, “Says the person who studies morality. Aren’t philosophers the ones telling people what’s right and wrong behaviour?”
“Some maybe.” Harry nodded, “But not me. I’m all for the free spirit. Let people live their lives and let them do what they want. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Is that why you slept with that girl in the library?” Mia bravely asked.
Harry smiled and his dimple popped, making Mia’s heart beat twice as fast at the toothy grin he shot her. She saw a sliver of the piece of gum in his mouth as he shook his head, “I guess. I just did it because I felt like it.”
Mia wrote something down and nodded, “So I assume you like the field you’re studying, right?”
“I do.” Harry nodded, “I take a big interest in sexual philosophy. Had a class on it last year.”
Mia nodded distantly, knowing full well that Hazel studied that subject this year. She had seen the books lying around the apartment, sometimes with ancient erotic art on the cover. It made Mia blush either way.
“Sexuality is super ambivalent in philosophy,” Harry said, “like on one hand it’s godly and spiritual. Socrates called it the ‘pure and true’. On the other hand, it’s feared. Because it’s animalistic, irrational and selfish. But I mean, who’s to say what’s good and bad sex, right? I mean, except for the obvious,” Harry mumbled, almost more to himself as if lost in thought, “I mean, who’s to say what’s a good or bad way to have sex?”
Mia didn’t say much, but wrote stuff down as Harry spoke passionately about his studies.
“I definitely follow the idea of metaphysical optimism.” He continued, “That sex connects and adds to one’s happiness. So it’s morally good. It’s liberal and free and tolerant and an autonomous choice.”
“Okay.” Mia slowly found herself nodding, “But what about the transdisciplinary approach? That it causes power and a shift in it? That’s a way to suppress someone? It’s not always as safe as you say it is. It’d be nice if it was, but then there wouldn’t be all these stories about people not enjoying it.”
Harry smirked, “Foucault, right? Such a psychologist.” He tutted before shaking his head, “You lot think too much.”
“I don’t think it’s thinking. It’s an experience. And sure you can say everyone is free and liberal and makes the choice to be… active.” She carefully jumped around the words before taking a breath, “But it’s epistemological, right? It’s still a science.”
“But why does it have to be a science? Can’t it just be a feeling?”
“Sure, b-“
“Haven’t you ever wanted to have sex so bad that you didn’t even care when or where? Have you never felt that primal, animalistic need to just… have someone?” Harry used his hands to bring his words extra power.
Mia stared at him and tried to stop the deep flush from rising up her cheeks, but Harry had seen. He tilted his head to the side with a small smirk, as if silently telling her that he knew her secret or something. Mia avoided his gaze and shifted on her chair, clearing her throat and leaving a silence.
“You have, haven’t you?” Harry pushed softly. Mia kept her eyes down while writing down a few things to keep herself from crumpling under his gaze.
“Mia.” Harry tried to get her attention, “You have, haven’t you?”
She exhaled a sharp breath, “I have.” She lied. Harry didn’t respond, and she didn’t have to lift her head to know the curious smirk he had on his lips, as if waiting for her to look up so he could pry the truth from her embarrassed gaze.
“Have you?”
“Yes.” She shortly answered.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
She huffed out a shaky breath, “This isn’t about me.” She murmured, digging the pen harder into the paper while writing down complete nonsense. Harry didn’t respond for a moment, “Okay, but we’re having a conversation, right? And I asked you a question?”
“This is not a conversation.” She spoke, “This is therapy.” She remembered professor Dillon teaching her about boundaries and Mia straightened up, “I don’t feel comfortable sharing things about that topic with you, or anyone. It’s a private matter.”
“It is for you, but not for me?” He frowned when she finally raised her eyes.
“I-I’m not asking for details here, Harry.” She tried to reason, “These talks are just to get to the root of why you did what you did, hoping it’s sufficient enough for the school to drop the fine and just let you get off with a warning.”
“God,” Harry exhaled in a whine, dropping his head back, “Why am I being treated like some sort of A-class criminal? I was horny, I was hard and she was wet and we fucked. It’s not that hard to understand. It’s simple biology, I thought you were so good at that?”
The bite in his tone was back and Mia flinched ever so slightly at his raised voice. She tried her best to not break the eye-contact, but his intense eyes quickly made her cast hers down.
A coping mechanism of his, apparently, the snarling. She got close to something he didn’t want to share with her or talk about, so he bit at her. Mia realised this, and hoped that she could get through or it would be eight very long sessions with Harry.
She cleared her throat, trying hard not to let it get to her. She turned a page of her notebook and drew a breath, “Let’s move on.”
