content: mentions of oral sex [f receiving], unprotected sex and cockwarming [very brief]
[just a little something i wrote. pretty much all smut with little to no plot.]
With the side of her face pressed down into the mattress and hips snapping against her ass - all that flooded her ears were his deep grunts, the sound of skin clashing and her lewd moans. He had woken her up in the middle of the night, but she didn’t mind. She had given him permission to wake her up whenever he needed it. More specifically, she had even given him permission to wake her up by kissing her right between her plush thighs. It was one of her favorite things - waking up to her boyfriend eating her out. She didn’t understand how he could be so good at it. All her previous boyfriends had complained when she asked for it. They would say it made their jaw hurt. That they didn’t like the thought of putting their tongue down there, but they never did complain when she would put her tongue on them.
Harry was unlike any other man she had met. He doted on her. He took care of her. He provided for her. If it were up to him, (Y/N) would never have to lift a finger, but he knew that his girl also liked being self-sufficient. He both admired and loathed how independent she could be sometimes. He loved how strong she was, but sometimes it scared him. He couldn’t help but wonder every now and then what would happen if (Y/N) realized she didn’t need him anymore - didn’t want to be his anymore. Harry was sure that his heart would never be mended if that happened.
(Y/N) was his everything. He never had a love like her before, and he had no intention of having another love ever. He was going to marry her. That was a cold hard fact.
“Harry,” she whimpered as she brought one of her hands back and behind her.
He knew what she wanted, and he gave it to her. Placing his large hand in hers, he intertwined their fingers - flexing his to give hers a soft squeeze.
“Feeling good, baby?” Harry’s chin rested against his chest as he looked down at where his thick cock entered his girlfriend.
(Y/N) just hummed in response, but that wasn’t enough for Harry. Propping one foot up on the mattress, he brought his freehand down and swatted at one of her ass cheeks. “You know that’s not going to cut it.”
Stopping his thrusts, he pulled out which caused (Y/N) to gasp, and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. She was flipped onto her back faster than she could blink.
Harry’s hands came down to her thighs, and he pushed them apart before plunging back inside of her with one fluid roll of his hips.
“Oh my god,” (Y/N) moaned with her eyes screwed shut. “You’re so fucking deep, H.”
Smirking to himself, Harry leaned down and scraped his teeth against his beautiful girlfriend’s jawline. “Do you like that, (Y/N)? Feeling me so deep in there?”
“Yes, yes,” she panted as he started pounding into her once more. “I love it when you’re this deep. I feel you all the way…all the way in here.”
Placing a hand over her lower stomach, (Y/N) pressed down - eliciting a groan from Harry and another mewl of pleasure from her with just how good that felt.
(Y/N) was never properly fucked before, and Harry caught onto that by the first time they slept together. She made him work for it, something he didn’t mind doing by any means, but when the time actually came, he was seething at her past lovers at what he had seen. Sexy and confident (Y/N) had retreated into a shell of herself the moment he had her laid out on his mattress. She had asked him to turn almost all the lights off, and the ones that were left on had been turned down. She had asked that he not remove her bra, and that he just pull her panties to the side. It pained him to realize that she didn’t want him to see her fully naked.
That changed before Harry entered her that night. He took his time to kiss over every inch of her skin. To compliment every piece of her that he could see. He let her know that she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen in the world. The most beautiful woman to ever be in his bed. He made it clear that no one before her ever compared, and that no one ever would.
By the time he took her home the next morning, (Y/N) had allowed Harry to take her in four different positions, resulting in six orgasms total. It was obvious to both of them that they’d never get enough of each other just after that one night.
“Squeezin’ my cock so tight. You’re gonna have me coming sooner than I want to,” Harry huffed out a laugh at himself, and it caused (Y/N) to also giggle. “But, fuck, honey, you just feel too damn good. Such a snug little thing.”
His words had (Y/N)’s cunt pulsing around him even more, and he could tell she was right on the edge of her orgasm.
Sucking on the pad of his thumb, Harry brought it down to start rubbing precise circles against his girlfriend’s clit, and that had her arching her back off the bed.
“Holy shit,” she gasped - toes curling and fists clenching against the pale pink sheets surrounding them. “I’m about to cum.”
Harry watched as (Y/N) threw her head back which resulted in her pretty neck being completely exposed to him. He could feel her walls beginning to clamp down around him, and with one more deep thrust, her orgasm gushed around his length.
“Good girl,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss over (Y/N)’s collarbone. “Such a good girl f’me.”
Once she felt like the air had properly returned to her lungs, (Y/N) blinked her eyes open to stare at the gorgeous man above her.
“Fill me up, please,” she pouted her lips at him as she tapped her fingertips against the spot on her stomach that she had pressed down on earlier. “Right in here.”
“Yeah?” Harry smirked as he gripped onto her hips and angled them up just a little more. “Want it tucked up in there?”
“Mhmm,” (Y/N) hummed with a nod of her head. “I like it when it’s up there that far. It takes longer to drip out of me, and I like feeling it for as long as I can.”
(Y/N) could be dirty when she wanted to be, but he had never heard her say something like that to him before. Choking out a moan, Harry felt the warmth in his lower abdomen boil over, and before he could process it, he was shooting his load inside her slick pussy.
Biting down on her bottom lip, (Y/N) reeled from the feeling of Harry pumping his cum into her. He didn’t stop until he felt like he couldn’t hold himself up with his shaky arms anymore. He collapsed against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him as they both continued to come down from their highs.
“I love when you wake me up in the middle of the night like that,” (Y/N) played with Harry’s curls as she spoke. “Can we fall back asleep like this?”
“Sure, baby,” Harry puckered a kiss to the top of one of her breasts. “And then when we wake up in a few hours, I’ll continue fucking that same load into you before giving you another."
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.
Noise, a live fast, die young, wild child living in the Chelsea Hotel, meets Harry, a newly immigrated, struggling, young poet in search of inspiration.
This is a story about life. A life so loud it’s quiet, and so quiet it’s silent. Fast and fleeting. It's about music and poetry and art in the filthy dwellings of its creators in New York City.
Rated: M (for language)
Word Count: 5.3K
Themes: AU, angst, 80s!Harry, Poetrry, love at first sight???
Pairing: Harry Styles x OFC
Warnings: drug use + addiction, smoking
masterlist read on wattpad edits
Harry remembers the exact date and time that he first saw her.
June 30th, 1985.
10:34pm.
Although it could've been 10:36 as he was still unsure if his wristwatch was still running two minutes too slow. He does, however, vividly remember the weather.
The last remnants of spring were being washed away with the droplets that cascaded from the heavens that night. He'd thought he'd been lucky enough to leave the rain behind when he moved to New York, but like his writer's block, it seems the heavy clouds followed him across the pond as well. He was in search of inspiration and his small English county could no longer provide that for him. He'd only been in the city for a week but had still yet to find his footing, his place. It was the very words of Ginsberg that brought him to the seedy, down-at-the-heels boroughs of New York City, that propelled him to get on that plane, that brought him to her. Whatever the poets of Gotham were smoking, he wanted in.
He'd been walking down Canal Street that night, the rain lightly kissing the tops of his cheeks, puddles flooding around the soles of his loafers. Why he'd decided to wear the dark leather footwear on a night like that night was beyond him. It was his first official night out in the city, so it could be said that he subconsciously wanted to look his best. He'd spent his first week in the city holed up in his apartment. A corner walk up in an old hotel that rented rooms by the month.
The Hotel Chelsea.
The heartbeat of the city located in its underbelly.
He knew it from literature, from music, from art. He was told it was where artists are conceived, born, and died in a never ending forest fire of pathos, ethos, and on very rare occasions, logos. Swimming in a pool of their own shit and only their own shit, and then somehow making it glitter like gold. He was told it was where the muses lived. Every single one, from every myth and every legend. He was just waiting to meet his own.
He ducks into a dimly lit concrete stairwell when the rain begins to pick up. Soaking through the unbuttoned-at-the-top shirt he'd been gifted by a friend before leaving home. He stands under the small coverage provided by the building above him. Watching as bright yellow taxi cabs wiz by, distorting the already distorted refraction of soft warm light that spilled from the street lamps above. He watches a couple kiss in the rain before departing and going their separate ways and yet, although he was in the presence of such a magnificent amount of pulchritude, Harry was still unable to string words together into a verse that would do it justice.
A muffled cheer sounds from behind a door he hadn't realized led to anything, catching his attention. He turns, peaking into the frosted glass window located in the center of the old wooden door, leaning so close his nose flattens against it and his breath fogs the glass beyond its frost. He squints, trying to get a peek inside when the door swings open. He steps back swiftly, heart pounding, lungs heaving for air, hand pressed to his chest. The culprit, standing in the doorway eyeing him. Platinum blonde hair is the first thing he sees, then a sharply arched eyebrow over icy blue irises, and a cigarette, pressed between two lips painted in a maraschino cherry hue.
Harry struggles to collects himself when she side steps and gestures for him to enter or leave, either way, the purpose was to get him out of her way. His eyes are still locked on hers, swimming the in whirlpool of her energy, feet about to touch the sandy bottom of the frozen ocean within her eyes.
A snap of her fingers in the space between them pulls him out of his liquid dream like a buoy pulling a drowning boy to safety.
"Move it or lose it, I haven't got all day."
Her voice is unlike anything Harry had ever heard before. Although she looked lithe and delicate, her voice held grit and power. With an edge Harry could only imagine the sharpness of.
He squeezes past her through the door, their chest brushing as he scuttles. He dwindles when he catches a whiff of her. Whiskey and cigarettes and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. Vanilla? Sandalwood? Whatever it was, he wanted more of it.
She scoffs as she pushes past him into the evening downpour, forcing him further than he'd planned on going. He turns quickly and watches her ascend the drenched concrete steps as the door closes, her tall, chunky heeled boots slapping against them like duck wings on water.
He stands there, staring through the small rectangular window at her blurred silhouette. It isn't until he's shoved lightly to the side, and then back, further into the bar by people trying to exit, that he realizes just how long he'd been standing there. In the process he loses sight of her.
The door opens again and Harry is pulled further into the small bar by a wayward group of people. He concedes in that moment, walking through the dive on at his own accord. His mind still spinning with a looped triptych of the encounter.
This was a new experience for Harry, the momentary loss of self in a stranger, specifically supernal, a particularly peculiar case of sonder. He'd had the luxury of knowing everyone in his small town and therefore had not been afforded the company of fresh faces and anomalous auras for the majority of his adult years of life. This was a feeling Harry wanted to relish in, to drink and be drunk on and its catalyst had just walked out the door to indulge in her nicotine laced vice, and in all probability, to not to be seen by him again. New York is a big city. All big, blinding lights and an even bigger populace.
That, however, didn't stop him from nursing an inaudible prayer on his lips as he ambles carefully through the bar, hoping, while trying to keep hold of realistic expectations, to catch a glimpse of the fair-haired sparkler one more time before he, himself, burned out.
The room, puzzlingly humid, dimly lit, and thick with people, carried the stench of old beer and rotting wood. A heavy cloud of cigarette smoke floats up from the crowd and threads through the dank wooden beams of the ceiling. The walls, covered in a deep red, are peeling and fading into a grimy brown, reminding Harry of the rust that sat on his neighbour's old chevy back in Cheshire. The floor, beer soaked wood that Harry was sure could give out at any moment if they weren't below street level.
Everyone in the room was gathered around a small stage made of old skids in the middle of the small space. A woman, small in stature with tousled brown hair tucked under a dark gray pageboy cap and black, thick rimmed glasses, stands on the stage in front of a microphone.
Harry heads to what he assumes could only be the bar. As if the rows of liquor bottles located behind a very well groomed young man hadn't been a clear enough indicator. His look, a stark contrast to the dwellers in the bar. A crisp white short sleeve button up, tucked into a pair of sharp black trousers, held in place with a black belt, silver buckle.
"What can I get you?"
Harry looks up at the bartender, then over to the bottles of liquor on the wall. A decent sized plank of driftwood sits snug in the center of the middle row of bottles. 'The Sick Rose' it read in a delicate, hand-painted cursive, the same red that dressed the walls.
He looks back over at the bartender who is watching him, waiting patiently for his answer.
"Whiskey, neat."
The bartender smiles before turning to grab the bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind him. He grabs a glass from under the bar top and place it in front of Harry before pouring.
Harry watches him intently, taking in every detail. From the way his brows furrow when the liquor splashes up against the side of the cup and onto the bar to the 'nectar of the gods' glisten of the liquid in the glass.
With a tight but genuine smile, the bartender pushes the glass towards him. Harry reaches into his pants and takes out a balled up fiver. He flattens it out on the bar top, a light, embarrassed chuckle leaves his lips before he hands it over, returning the smile with a curt nod.
Feedback bleeds momentarily over the sound of soft conversation drawing Harry's attention. He picks up his drink and turns his attention to the stage.
She's seated on a high stool, the woman on stage, and has a cigarette pressed between her middle and index fingers, the smoke cascading up to join the rest of the crowd's. In her other hand, an old, black and white school jotter with several coloured post-it notes sticking out of every side.
She gets off the stool and steps towards the mic, poised with her book open and resting on her forearm, against her chest. She speaks with candor. Her tone rhythmic, almost musical.
She pauses and the verse rings in Harry's ears. A dull ache pulses through his chest. The tips of his fingers tingle. There's an itch trickling up from under his skin that grows with every word, every pause, every breath.
This is what he'd been looking for. What he had come to New York for. To live and exist as the wordsmiths before him. In a dark dingy basement bar, last legs, glass of whiskey in hand, cigarette smoke clinging to every space. No more thicker than the voltaic energy that has the hair on his arms standing at attention. The baring of souls in stanza, in verse, in caesura, in rhyme. A chorus of pain and lust and life, oh to live a life like this. And now it was his.
He rubs his arm but knows that that isn't what will satiate his craving.
That the only cure lies within the keys of his typewriter and alabaster sheet of 8 ½ by 11.
Harry takes another generous sip of his drink with peeled ears and attentive heart. Hoping that the ability to write something, anything, would strike him like the lightning that had been streaking the sky that night.
He'd almost forgotten about her in the hurricane of poems and poets that swept on and off stage throughout the night. But when he sees her again, hours later, the initial rush of titillation he had felt returns like an unexpected punch to the gut.
He's three glasses of cheap whiskey deep, leaning against the small bar top. The crowd in the bar had gotten boisterous, rowdier, and now instead of poets baring their souls to the patrons, there's a louder than hell band on stage. He's sure they have no idea how to play their instruments but the magnanimity of their outrageous on stage antics made them entertaining enough to watch. The lead singer had broken a bottle over his head and made out with three different women on stage within the span of ten minutes and yet, once Harry had caught sight of the platinum stick of dynamite, he couldn't take his eyes off her.
She's seated in a worn leather booth at the far end of the room. And although there were copious amounts of intoxicated people standing between them, Harry had managed to maintain a clear and direct line of view.
The first thing he noticed was the smug smirk that never seemed to leave her lips. It was as if she was holding onto a secret that no one, not even herself, knew. The second was that she wasn't alone.
Next to her in the booth sat two people, a man, neck full of tattoos and decked out in leather. His dark, shoulder length hair looked as if it hadn't seen a wash in weeks but Harry could admit that the man was quite handsome, in a dangerous, "I'd steal your car" kind of way. The other, a woman, wild curly hair, tucked under a black beret. Her dark skin shown against the dim lighting in the bar and was a stark contrast to the bright red, latex dress she had on. The outfit was soaked in intimidation but the smile she had affixed on her face as she whispered to the object of Harry's full attention, was soft and genuine.
The blonde head of hair whipped around in Harry's direction and their eyes catch each other's.
In a movement too swift for him to register himself, he turns to face the bar, an embarrassing warmth making its way up his neck. He orders another drink even though he already has a full one in his hand. He throws it back, finishing it before the bartender could put the new one in front of him. Harry takes in a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves before turning back to catch one more glimpse of the blonde matchstick before calling it a night, but just like before she'd disappeared. In fact, the only person sitting there was her female friend, the male compatriot had disappeared as well.
Harry can't help but wonder. Had she gone out for a cigarette, or had she decided to take the brooding tattooed man back to hers. Maybe she'll be back. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe she was still here.
He scans the room before his body propels him forward, a heart over head start of an active search, removing him from the bar and into the crowd on people. Popping up every now and then to see over the sea of heads.
When he finally does spot her again, she and neck tattoos are wedged in the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms. Their chests pressed together as they speak in hushed, harsh voices.
"Neck Tattoos" holds a small plastic bag above her head, a frown etched deeply in the curve of his brow and the edges of his lips. Harry watches as she attempts to grab the bag back from the man but fails, falling into him, her head turning and immediate locking eyes with Harry's curiously impeding stare. Her eyebrows furrow and her lips pucker. Her gaze is intense, hard but it sends a neon jolt of electricity through Harry's body.
She looks away, pushing herself away from "Neck Tattoos'" chest, as she makes another attempt to grab the baggy from him by propping herself up onto her toes. His large tattooed hand wraps itself around her wrist tightly and her eyebrows furrow in pain as he leans closer to her. Harry's body jerks forward as her eyes drift back over to his. His legs move to carry him closer but halts momentarily to size up the situation.
He'd always been someone who thought about actions and their consequences before making rash decisions. Logical and reliable were words that could be said to be synonymous with Harry Styles.
Heck! The most impulsive thing he'd ever done was what had brought him into this very situation. He didn't think a bar fight would be in the cards for him, ever. But he figures there's a first time for everything.
Harry makes his way over to them as quickly as he can, bobbing and weaving through the crowd, trying to keep an eye on the situation all the while trying to figure out how he was going to incapacitate "Neck Tattoos", who looked to be about a whole head taller than him.
The crowd seems to be fighting against him, trying to keep him away but he fights against it anyway. In that moment, Harry likens himself to salmon swimming upstream in the frigid autumn waters. A dangerous journey but to give up would go against their nature. Fight, however, was not in his nature but he thought himself fiercely passionate and empathetic which could be the same, he thinks. Harry finally breaks through the crowd and is within spitting distance of the two just as the snowy haired firecracker winds up and socks "Neck Tattoos" square in the nose.
Harry's eyes widen as "Neck Tattoos" falls, landing at his feet. He stares at the man on the floor before trailing his sights up to the woman who'd mystified him the short time they had been aware of the other's existence.
Her hand whips up and down as if shaking it will rid it of the throbbing that had begun to consume the limb. She bends down over "Neck Tattoos", retrieving the reason for the abruptly violent situation that oddly enough, no one else in the small bar acknowledged. She pats him on the shoulder comfortingly, her smirk returning to its place between her lips.
"Probably should get that checked out John. Broken nose wouldn't do that pretty face any favours."
Her words are firm but underneath it, there was a hint of something that told Harry that she actually was friends with "Neck Tattoos". That she cared about him, although her actions seemed to say otherwise.
She stands, and in the process notices one of her bruised knuckles bleeding. She brings it to her mouth, and it's all Harry can stare at, eyes still as wide as a deer in headlights.
Her icy blue orbs move up from the floor to Harry's face and he melts.
"Thanks for all the help man."
Her blood stained lips spit the sarcastic benediction with the prick of a sharp dagger.
Harry blinks. He opens his mouth and finds it hard to form words with the amount of indescribable feelings rushing through his blood stream, or maybe it was just the alcohol.
She sighs, rolling her eyes, and pushes past him, stepping over "Neck Tattoos", to a door adjacent to them. Harry twists his head to follow her, in a daze. It isn't until a loud clang sounds, the door closing, that he snaps out of it.
The spinning in his head comes to a standstill but the bubbling in his veins is far from subsiding.
His body is moving towards the door before his head can even fathom it. The pull is so magnetic. It's as if his soul had left his body and is pulling him along by hand, it's celestial.
He moves quickly, almost a blur, as he jogs out of the bar and into a dark lit alley. The rain had stopped and had left behind tiny reflective orbs of liquid on every surface that sparkled even in the darkness. He spins to his left, then his right in search of a halo of bleached tresses but comes up short.
A weight lands on his chest and trickles down to the pit of his stomach.
Regret, maybe. Nausea, definitely.
Should've said something.
He spins on the heels of his now drenched loafers with the intention of heading back inside to grab one more drink and quell his overstimulated mind and heart. He reaches for the large metal handle, when something catches his eye. A spark, several. Flickering and flashing to an off kilter beat. Small but bright in the darkness of the alley.
He closes his eyes and takes in a breath before letting go of the door handle. He takes a step away from the door, relieving his filled lungs with an aggressive puff. He's already been reckless thus far tonight, what's one more ill informed decision.
He opens his eyes and takes a few cautious steps towards the continuous tiny combustion. Slowly, hands curled in tight fists in case something or someone jumped out at him. In case he met one of those colossal rodents that New York was so famous for.
When he gets closer and his eyes adjust to the low light, he sees her. Leaning up against the grimy, graffiti filled, brick wall of the bar, cigarette between her lips, lighter in her bruised hand, pint glass filled with beer in the other. A brisk breeze flows through the wind tunnel alley way as she struggles with the lighter. A slick curse passes her lips every time the lighter goes out without lighting the cigarette.
Harry walks up to her, still cautious but fists unclenched.
"Need help?"
Harry chokes out the words but it's enough to cause her eyes to flick up, landing on the smile he struggles to keep soft. He doesn't wait for an answer, instead he steps forwards, cupping his hands around the lighter when she tries to flick it again. This time, the cigarette lights and she breathes out an audible sigh that dances around the smoke as it leaves her lips and Harry finally finds his voice.
"Y'alright?"
His eyes trace the lines of her face that are faintly illuminated by the end of her cigarette. Her soft lines a stark contrast to her hard glare. The corner of her lips fixed in a subtle scowl.
"Could be better."
Harry nods. He racks his brain for something to say. Anything to hold her attention for just a little while. Anything to keep this energy, au courant, from fizzling out.
If words came easier to him he wouldn't be in this alley. He'd be back in Holmes Chapel, in his makeshift cave of books and trinkets and old wood. With candles that smelt of Christmas and full body warmth, and his family would be just a quick jaunt away.
"You like poetry?"
Idiot.
He mentally curses his inability to come up with something less benign but stops when she lets out a loud, choking laugh. Her head tossed back in sweet amusement.
"Do I like poetry?"
She forces out through her chuckles.
"Is that a line?"
Her eyebrow peaks as she takes another drag of her cigarette then blows the smoke in Harry's direction. He blinks rapidly, the smoke causing his eyes to gloss over.
"You don't have to try so hard. If you wanted to take me home then all you had to do is ask. You're pretty and honestly I'm not picky."
Harry's eyes widen as he shakes his head, his eyes darting to a piece of soaked garbage on the cement, a candy wrapper.
Never had he met a woman so forward, so unapologetically crass and yet, still so enthralling.
"S'not what I want," he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. His front teeth press down so heavily he thinks he might've drawn blood.
"Really?"
She flicks the ash of her cigarette and brings it back up to her lips. A crooked smile cause the smoke to exit her mouth from the side rather than in Harry's face. He nods, it's subtle, but she acknowledges his answer.
"Doesn't seem like it. You've been watching me all night and when people do that it usually means one of two things. One, you want to fuck them or two," she take another drag, "you're a perverted stalker."
Harry's attention snaps back at her.
"M'not a stalker."
She steps closer to him, her body flush with his.
"I believe you," her voice is soft as her hand runs down Harry's shirt collar, fingers hovering just above where his exposed skin starts and not stopping its descent, "and that's sad because I'm sure we would've had a good time. Never done it with one of the Queen's sons before. Guess I won't be crossing that off my bucket list tonight."
She steps away from him and flicks her cigarette. It hits the wall causing the cherry to burst and glowing ash to trickle down like fireworks on the fourth of July. She walks past him towards the door but pauses before opening it. Looking over her shoulder at him, she shakes her head and laughs before disappearing into the building.
Harry stands alone in the alley. His body quivers with shock, with fear, with sheer excitement.
His heart was beating in his ears. His head, a spinny, dizzying top, unrelenting in its momentum.
He attempts to steady his breathing as he leaves the alley, stepping onto the sidewalk. The streets no longer bare as the patrons of bars and clubs alike pour out, where they'd follow the call of the rest of their night. An after party here, a quick, regrettable in the morning fuck there.
Harry bobs and weaves through people, still high off of the sheer aura of the woman. Missing a step and nearly eating shit as he descends down the stairs into Canal Street station.
He dawdles through the station, stopping to take a look at some of the musings of urban philosophers in permanent marker on the walls. Declarations of love and lust, names of places and people, numbers if you're in need of a good time.
"I'm sure we would've had a good time."
He checks his pockets for his wallet or some change when he gets to the pay toll but comes up short. He throws his head back and sends a curse out to the universe.
A chime sounds and Harry double times his pace, looking left and right before hopping over the turnstile. All but flying down the steps, he glides into the train just as the doors begin to close, narrowly missing his torso.
He catches his breath as he looks around the near empty train car for a seat. An elderly woman with a small buggy filled to the brim with groceries offers him a soft smile to which he returns as her makes his way to the far end of the car.
He takes a seat, his back to the window. He clasps his hands together as the train enters the tunnel. His body shakes and rumbles with the movements of the vehicle as a loud, low whistle fills the space around him.
He leans back, resting his head against the glass with eyes closed. Words bloom behind his eyelids like spring flowers but refusing to link together like a daisy chain to create anything worth writing down. His lips part as a heavy sigh floats past them. The train comes to a halt as his eyes open with the door.
His eyes shift to the doors as the elderly woman makes her way slowly off the train.
She passes and when she's clear of his line of view, a glimmer of pale blonde catches his eye.
A few blinks and a double take help clear his vision.
There she is. Sitting at the other end of the train, head bobbing back and forth to the tempo of whatever tune is floating through the headphones that are snug around her ears. A bright red portable cassette player rests on her lap, legs clad in houndstooth.
Although she was quite a distance away from him, he could see her now. Really see her. Her hair glows in the fluorescent subway lights and Harry is like a moth to a flame.
When she stands to get off the train, he does as well. Stepping out of the train a few doors down from her. On the wall, in mosaic tile is the name of the station, his stop. He heads towards the stairs, staggering his pace to stay a few feet behind her.
She walks with purpose, with power. A strut that says stay the fuck out of my way.
When they make all the same turns Harry chalks it up to more than coincidence.
Divine intervention maybe? Not likely.
As they both close in on the hotel, Harry decides that he's going to say something. But when she stops abruptly in her tracks, it throws him for a loop. His legs, not quite registering what was happening, continue to bring him forward and closer to her than he'd planned. She spins around quickly, her eyes landing directly on his as he stops a few steps away from her.
"Are you following me?"
She points a sharply manicured finger at him. Harry steps back, shaking his head. He holds up his hands in surrender.
"M'not. I swear, it's just a-"
"Pervy stalker," a sing-song lilt carries the accusation from her mouth to Harry's ears.
Harry's eyebrows furrow.
"I live here?" It's a question more than a statement. He points to the building.
"You sure? You don't seem so sure."
Harry clears his throat as his hands fall to his sides.
"I do, I live here."
She raises an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Where's your key?"
Harry sighs, defeated.
"Was in my wallet, but I lost it."
"Your key?"
"My wallet."
She hums, nodding slowly. Her eyes narrow as she leans forward. She steps back and turns on her heel.
"Sucks."
She approaches the front door of the hotel, putting her key in the lock. She pulls it open with brute force before looking over at Harry, who's standing in the middle of the sidewalk, alone.
"Well are you coming or what?"
He nods quickly as he breaks into a light jog. Slipping past her through the door she'd holding open with her back.
As they begin their ascent up the main square spiral staircase Harry can't help but let his mind wander. Questions bounce around his mind and on to his tongue like a diving board. A deep dive, cannonball wave pool displaces his quietness.
"What's your name?"
It's soft but she hears him.
"Noise."
Her voice echoes off the walls, stinging like a sour note.
"Noise? Your parents couldn't have possibly-"
"They didn't," she cuts him off with an over shoulder smirk so devious Harry could swear for a split second he'd seen the devil himself. Afraid to ask anymore questions he stays quiet.
They reach the 4th floor and she stops, turning around the face him.
"This is me," she points to a bright teal door, the number 412 affixed to the center in bold brass.
Harry nods.
"Where're you headed?" She asks.
"512," his answer is curt as he keeps his eyes on the ground.
"Not sure how you're gonna get in without a key. You might just have to sleep in the hallway until maintenance comes in the next few hours."
Harry groans but nods, wishing her a goodnight, frustrated that he wouldn't he able to sleep in his own bed tonight.
He turns and begins to continue up the stairs.
"Hey 512," Noise calls out. Harry stops mid step and turns around to a mound of black leather being tossed in his direction. He fumbles when it hits his chest but catches it, his wallet.
"Welcome to New York."
Harry watches as she slides through her front door. His eyes narrow but the corner of his mouth lifts as he jogs the rest of the way to his apartment.
Mia found herself hunched over her desk early morning on Friday. After her first tutoring session the previous day, she was set on making the best out of neuropsychology and she was revising last week’s lesson in order to be able to catch up today.
A soft knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts and she turned around, taking her glasses off of the bridge of her nose, “Come in.”
She knew it was going to be Hazel, so the sight of her friend in her night robe and her hair all messy didn’t exactly surprise her. Hazel pushed open the door softly, her hands full with a cup of coffee and a plate filled with fruit and toast. Mia’s heart about grew twice its size when she gasped, “Oh my god, Hazel!”
“Shh, not too loud, it’s early.” Hazel croaked as she padded over to Mia’s desk to put everything down. Mia stared widely at the food and coffee on the table, on top of some of her books and notes and she pressed her hand to her chest, “This is so nice, thank you so much.”
“Ah,” Hazel waved it away, “don’t worry about it. You’ve been having a tough week.” She leaned over Mia to look at her notes, scrunching up her nose, “Neuropsychology again?”
“Yeah.” Mia nodded, taking the clip out of her messy hair before she was about to braid it later for class, “I’m trying to be up to date for class today.”
Hazel nodded, “Hmm. What time will you be home tonight? Do you want to go out maybe?”
“Oh.” Mia immediately felt herself blushing a little bit, wondering if she’d have to come up with an excuse as to why she’d rather stay home. She awkwardly scratched behind her neck, “I-I don’t know.”
Hazel softly smiled, “You don’t have to. ‘S just a suggestion. Once again, I’d think you’d really like my friends. And actually… I was thinking of inviting them over here tonight for pre-drinks.”
“Here?” Mia asked with raised brows, “Oh my god, I haven’t cleaned all week, you can’t invite people over to a house this messy.”
Hazel chuckled, “Mia, we’re uni students. It’s pretty normal to be living in a mess and I’m sure our apartment’s still cleaner than all of theirs combined.”
“Still…” Mia found herself immediately nervous about the prospect of people in her home. It took a while for the apartment to feel like home, and she had to give the most credit to Hazel for making her comfortable here. Her chaotic, homely clutter just warmed up the entire apartment.
But having strangers over was one hurdle Mia felt anxious about, and them being in her personal space was another. She couldn’t just leave if she felt like it was too much, she’d have to wait it out. Also, she couldn’t hide in her room and there was nowhere to go. The library closed at eight and she was sure pre-drinks didn’t end before that hour.
“Look, we can go to a bar if it makes you more comfortable. It’s only like four people but Cass and Lynn are fighting with their third roommate and she kind of kicked them out of the apartment – which is crazy – and Renan lives in a shoebox and has only two chairs.” Hazel chuckled.
Mia’s lips slightly curled up at the words Hazel chose and she nibbled her lip in thought, “I-I guess. I don’t want to kick you out of your own apartment, you have a say in here too. I-I’ll try to be social but it’s really hard for me.” She spoke in a small voice before tapping her fingers on her forehead, “I might have some medicine left for my anxiety.”
“What?” Hazel frowned immediately, “Mia, no, no, no. I don’t want you to have to take pills in order to feel comfortable. Look, just think about it today and you can let me know around four, good? See how you feel about it during the day.”
Mia felt a headache coming up just at the thought of tonight, but forced a smile and nodded, “I will. Thanks again for the food, Hazel. It’s really nice of you to do that.”
“You do it for me all the time, Mia.” Her friend laughed in return, eyes briefly glancing at Mia's phone when it buzzed on the desk with a message. Hazel didn’t mean to, but she saw the name coming up on the screen and instantly frowned, “H. Sinclair?”
Mia quickly reached for her phone, opening it up to see the message from Harry as Hazel stared at her with wide eyes, “As in Harry Sinclair?”
“Yes. He’s one of my therapy students.” Mia explained, frowning a little at her screen when she saw that Harry sent her a reminder for today’s session.
Message to: H. Sinclair
Thank you for the reminder, I hadn’t forgotten :)
She locked her phone and put it back down before carefully glancing up at Hazel, “You know him?”
Hazel’s shocked expression gave it all away and she huffed out again, “Yeah, of course. He’s in some of my classes. Oh fuck, the broken bookcase, of course!” She spoke more to herself as if it suddenly all made sense.
“Hazel.” Mia scolded slightly, “It’s too early for cursing.”
Hazel put her hands on her hips and looked at Mia, “Wait, don’t tell me he’s the dickhead who made you cry this week.”
“Oh.” Mia chuckled softly, “He was, yeah. B-But I saw him yesterday during lunch and we actually redid Tuesday’s session and he was polite. Do you know him well?”
Hazel shrugged, “No, not at all. I’ve never spoken to him. He’s always late and sits in the back.. He always hangs out with the second years and does most classes with them too so I don’t see him that often, to be honest.”
Mia’s attention was back on her phone when it buzzed again.
Message from: H. Sinclair
Just checking :). Good morning, by the way. Also, I named you Dr. Phil in my phone.
Mia burst out into a cackle at that, quickly shutting up when she realised how ridiculous it sounded and she bit her lip before putting her phone down again. Hazel had her brow up as she stared at her, “Something funny?”
“H-He just, uh – “ Mia stuttered with a flush to her cheeks, “he said something funny, yes.”
“Mia.” Hazel narrowed her eyes and Mia blushed harder before sighing out with slumped shoulders, “He’s so beautiful!”
“Oh my god!” Hazel exclaimed with a wide grin, “You have a crush on him!”
Mia blushed even deeper and hastily took a sip of scorching hot coffee in an attempt to hide her face, “I do not.” She spoke with a wince, her tongue burned on the coffee but it was worth it as she just wanted to hide away from Hazel’s curious eyes, “Yes, you do! How cute! I mean, I have to admit he’s hot. I didn’t think he’d be your type though. Who was the guy you’re practically married to already?”
“Daniel? Oh, yeah, he’s completely different.” Mia shrugged, her stomach dropping a little when she remembered the deal her parents had made at a young age for her to marry Daniel.
Hazel sat down on the edge of Mia’s bed, “So what actually happens when you get a boyfriend and don’t want to date that Daniel guy anymore?”
Mia puckered her lips in thought, “I suppose I’ve never really thought of that. Why are you assuming I’d have a boyfriend? You’re not talking about Harry, right?”
“Who knows.” She smirked and Mia blushed deeper before shaking her head, “No, you’re right. I’m not his type.”
Hazel tilted her head to the side, “I never said that, I said I didn’t think he was your type.”
“I don’t know what my type is.” Mia shrugged and Hazel exhaled a laugh, “Right, but I just wouldn’t have assumed a guy with tattoos all over his body would do it for you.”
“All over his body?” Mia gasped and Hazel threw her head back in a laugh, “Oh my god, fun! We can finally talk about our crushes together!”
Mia huffed humorlessly, “Nothing to talk about. He’s just a client and we’re doing eight sessions.”
“…and you’re texting.”
“We’re not! Some of them have my number in case they need to reschedule.” Mia defended and Hazel smiled suspiciously, “Some of them? How many?”
Mia blushed deeper and Hazel smiled wider until Mia rolled her eyes, “Fine, just him. He asked, said he hardly checks his emails!”
“That’s such bullshit!” Hazel laughed, “He just wanted your number, Mia!” She snatched Mia’s phone from the table and smiled at the screen, “He texted you good morning. That’s not just about rescheduling.”
“Give me that.” Mia mumbled, grabbing her phone again before shaking her head, “It’s nothing, I swear.”
“Alright.” Hazel grinned,
Mia finished revising for neuropsychology while enjoying the breakfast that Hazel had brought her. Her eyes scanned her notes, brain fresh and awake this early in the morning. She was always more productive in the mornings, Mia had noticed, so she usually used that time to study or get stuff done for school before her fatigue or anxiety kicked in and the letters floated together.
Dressed in winter attire, she exited the apartment about an hour later. Hazel said goodbye to her from the couch, deciding to skip out on her classes today and lounge around the apartment. Mia almost felt anxious in her place, skipping a class sounded horrifying to her. She knew teachers didn’t really mind and it was the student’s own responsibility to make sure they were up to date with everything and met their deadlines, but still… Mia could never be that chill.
She nearly slipped on some ice when her phone buzzed on the way, and she pulled it out to reveal another message from Harry even if she never answered the previous one.
Message from: H. Sinclair
Interesting classes today?
Mia bit her lip, wondering if he truly did ask for her number for the schedule or if he maybe… liked her a little bit? The idea on its own was stupid. Someone like him could never like someone like her. He was so free-spirited and bold and blunt, while she was so shy and timid and hardly dared looking him in the eye. He was two years older than her too, which felt like a decade away in how mature they were.
But then again, why would he ask her such a silly, non-important question at such a random time in the day? She nibbled her lip and typed back.
Message to: H. Sinclair
It’s alright. One now and then two this afternoon. How about you?
She hesitated before typing the last bit, opening up the conversation. She had never really texted with a boy, no one had ever asked her for her number. Mia felt like if she went through her contact list, the information there was pretty sparse on itself, let alone any information on boys.
But if that had been Harry’s intention, he had been smooth about it. Mia had no idea he intended to ask her for her number.
A few buildings away, Harry was seated in class in the back row with a huge thermos of coffee in front of him. Even that couldn’t help him staying awake on a Friday morning. What could help him stay awake, was receiving a message from Mia.
Harry wasn’t sure what it was, why she was interesting to him. She was pretty, for sure, but she was someone who flew under the radar and who he’d have never noticed in any other occasion besides the forced therapy the school made him do.
He still felt bad about snapping at her during that first session. He had seen it in her eyes that it had hurt her and had taken her aback, but he was too caught up in his frustration and rage at that point to really care. It only sunk in when he saw her a few days later, sitting on her own at the trash table and nibbling on some carrots.
She was jumpy and shy and blushy, which Harry just found completely endearing. He had to admit that he liked talking to her about school, about psychology and philosophy, about their different views. They were nice discussions. Until she started about the reason he had to get therapy in the first place, his public slip-up in the library.
Harry still didn’t understand why he was being punished for something like that. Everyone in school had sex in the public areas, he was just the one being caught. And not even them together, just him. Lexie had gotten away before the guard caught them and he wasn’t about to rat her out, but it did mean that the entire 4K fine the school made him pay, was on his shoulders.
He had told her about it, and not once had she suggested paying for half of it. That he could do, pay the two thousand dollars to get the school off his back, but four thousand was too much. His parents would know and that’d be a whole other thing. They were nice and open-minded, but perhaps this was pushing it.
He had dreaded the therapy sessions but somehow hoped he’d end up with some cool, open-minded therapist who would let him off the hook and they’d use the time to just chat about random stuff. Instead, he had been sitting in that office waiting for her and he saw a timid young girl with her hands full and her eyes bulging while staring at him.
Mia honestly looked like she could be blown away with a little puff of air coming from Harry’s mouth.
The second time seeing her, he felt for her. She was clearly overworked and he remembered his own early university days where he struggled to keep up with it all. He didn’t think she did the therapy sessions for extra credit, he just assumed she was some rich girl who had time to spare and decided to volunteer so she could judge about other’s mistakes.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
And now he found himself at a point where he even…. maybe…. Looked forward a little bit to seeing her.
Message to: Dr. Phil
I’m in class right now and then I’m headed home again until the therapy session. What time again?
Message from: Dr. Phil
You’re the first one on the schedule :) So four if that’s alright. That way you have most of your evening still, it’s Friday night after all.
Harry huffed out a chuckle and cleared his throat, trying to mask his laughter from the professor up front who raised a brow at him before continuing. He was in a class that he had taken last year already and even if he had failed it – twice – he felt like he almost knew it by heart and this was a complete waste of time.
Message to: Dr. Phil
That’s considerate, thank you :). And it is a Friday indeed, any plans tonight?
His leg bobbed nervously as he waited for her response, which took a little while. He assumed she had still been walking to campus, which also meant she didn’t live in the student housing on campus. Unlike him.
Message from: Dr. Phil
Not really. I think my roommate is going to invite some people. You?
Message to: Dr. Phil
I usually go out on a Friday sooo…
Harry didn’t know why he typed that and he groaned under his breath and rolled his eyes at himself, staring at the sent message. It could mean a lot of things and he wasn’t sure how Mia was going to take it.
I usually go out on a Friday sooo… I’ll end up in someone’s bed tonight.
I usually go out on a Friday sooo… it’s the same this week and I’m going to get blind drunk with my idiot roommates.
I usually go out on a Friday sooo… if you’d like to join?
He locked his phone and put it down, not feeling better about himself when Mia didn’t answer for at least an hour. Deep down he knew she was in class and that she had to be paying attention. She didn’t seem like the type to be on her phone during class, but still – she left him hanging after sending such a stupid text.
Stupid enough that he did something even more stupid, which was sending another one an hour later after lack of response.
Message to: Dr. Phil
Sorry, that sounded weird. I meant that I’m also going out tonight, as I do most Fridays.
Harry dropped his head on the table momentarily, wanting to pull his own brains out until the teacher scolded him again and gave him a warning. He pressed his lips together and placed his phone upside down, trying to pay attention and actually take notes.
The efforts Mia put in for school were very different from Harry, but he had to admit it was inspiring.
All was forgotten though when his phone buzzed.
Message from: Dr. Phil
Hahah, yes, that’s what I assumed!! Sounds fun. Sorry I didn’t respond, neuropsychology is no joke.
He grinned at the message, his heart lighter than before and the nerves in his tummy had settled down.
It was hours later – hours that Harry had spent playing video games with his roommates instead of doing school work – that he went back into campus to meet up with Mia. His mates had nagged him for it a little as they wanted to get their Friday drink in early – as early as one in the afternoon.
Harry declined every beverage pushed his way, claiming he had responsibilities at four and that he’d join them afterwards. They asked him to skip the session, but he had said no.
So he was braving the cold winter weather while walking up to the psychology building, the North building, where he took the stairs up to the fourth floor. His teeth were chattering slightly from the biting November cold which wasn’t being very kind on England this year.
“Hi,” He spoke to the woman who sat at reception there, “I have a meeting with Mia?”
She narrowed her eyes at her computer screen and clicked a few times, “Right, she rescheduled some sessions. She’s in room number two.”
Harry raised his brows, “She’s already here? I thought I was early.”
“Mia’s always early.” The woman chuckled simply yet Harry hardly heard her, a skip in his step as he made his way to room number two, near bursting through the door just to see Mia.
She looked over her shoulder when the door opened, seeing Harry entering with his thick winter coat on as she had just shrugged hers off.
Harry could already tell she had a guilty look on her face from sending him walking through this weather for a rescheduled session, but he offered her a smile to ease her nerves, “Hey.”
“Hi.” She breathed as he unzipped his coat. Mia shifted on her seat, “I’m sorry that you had to come all the way here through this rain.” She apologised for something she had no control over and Harry hung up his coat besides hers, “No problem. I live on campus in the student housing so ‘m not far.”
“Oh.” She nodded, following his silhouette as he moved through the room to sit down on the other couch opposite her. He immediately looked more relaxed than earlier this week, when he avoided her stare and constantly poked his fingers into the rip of the seat. Whereas now, his eyes were curiously on her and on her only.
Mia fiddled with her fingers and reached for her cup of tea, “Do you want some tea? To warm up?”
Harry rubbed his hands together and nodded, “Actually, yeah. Sounds good. Is there a vending machine in this building?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay.” Mia smiled, getting up to reach one of the cupboards that lined the side of the little room, opening it up to pull out a mug, “This used to be a kitchen on this floor. And I’ve got a thermos and some tea bags.”
Harry huffed out a chuckle, “You just carry that around in your bag?”
Mia blushed a little as she sat back down and put the mug down on the table between them before reaching for her thermos, “I do. The tea here doesn’t taste that good, I prefer to bring my own.” She kept her eyes on the movement of her hand as she carefully poured the hot water into the mug with her lip between her teeth.
Harry used the opportunity to scan her, noticing the same braid in her hair as the other two times he had seen her. She wore a dark green knitted jumper with some flowers embroidered on it, a little oversized on her but it looked cosy. The black flares on her legs made her look taller, as did the blocked heel on the boots she wore.
“Here you go.” She smiled shyly when putting the teabag in his mug. Harry shot her a toothy grin, “Thank you.”
His lips twitched up into a wider smile when he saw her pulling out his old notebook and the pink pen. He had completely forgotten to get it back yesterday when their session ended rather abruptly when they had to get to their next class all of a sudden, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t use the notebook much anymore and they were mostly his old notes.
“I meant to give this back.” Mia started as if reading his mind. She had felt terrible about taking his personal belongings home with her, uncertain if Harry would get angry at her or not for doing so. She had carefully placed the notebook and the pen on her bedside table to make sure nothing happened to it, and that she could give it back today.
Harry waved it away and shook his head, “Keep it. I don’t use it anymore and I think it’s a handy little thing for you to keep around and… write in.”
Mia tilted her head to the side, “Write in?”
“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, “Y’know, random thoughts. Or just notes for school, whatever.”
She practically bounced in her chair from beaming so much before she nodded, “Okay. Thank you so much, Harry.”
He nodded back with a smile and Mia got more comfortable on the chair, going as far as tucking her leg underneath her. A clear sign of her comfort here, Harry noticed. She would’ve never done that during their first session. She tucked an invisible strand of hair behind her ear out of habit and nibbled her lip, “So, how did you feel after yesterday’s session?”
Mia meant it professionally, asking him how he had experienced going to therapy for the first time even if it was mandated and with another student. But she meant how he felt about talking about the topic of him having sex in the library. His mind, though, went somewhere completely else.
Because after yesterday’s session, he felt confused. Confused, frustrated, annoyed. All with himself. Confused because of how he couldn’t get her out of his mind even for a second, how she occupied every little bit of his brain for at least twenty-four hours now. Frustrated and annoyed because he wanted to hold her hand, he wanted to hold her entirely and he wanted to kiss her. Actually, he wanted to do many, many more unspeakable things to her that he was certain Mia’s mind was much too pure for.
That was the vibe she gave off, purity. Like something that had never been broken or even scratched before. She was fragile but protected. She didn’t seem like she had ever felt a little nudge before in her life to bring her out of balance.
“Good. Fine.” He settled on answering and she nodded, “Okay, that’s good. So today, I’d like to go more in depth about what happened prior to…” She uncomfortably cleared her throat, “having intercourse in the library. Like what led up to it.” Mia explained.
Harry nodded and she continued, “Then for the next session, I’d like to take you to the actual library.”
His brows shot up, “To the library? Like some sort of exposure therapy?”
“Exactly.” Mia nodded, “I get the feeling you’re still rather closed off about the entire topic, so it might be helpful.” She offered. Harry sighed out and shrugged, “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think we should do.”
Mia felt relieved at Harry’s quick giving into her idea. She had never done it before, taking a student out of this environment to head to the place where their incident happened that caused them to end up in therapy. But Harry wasn’t all that talkative and chatty, so she had to change directions here and branch out.
“But I have a proposition too.” Harry interrupted her thought process and held up his finger as Mia looked at him, “You do?” She asked unsurely. He smiled softly and nodded, “I do. Whenever I’m bored I get to ask you a question.”
Mia frowned, “A question?”
“Mhm.” Harry nodded, “I get to ask you a question and we talk about that for a bit. Y’know, to break my thoughts and change it up a little bit. I won’t hold out for eight sessions talking about my sex life.”
Mia blushed a little at his blunt words and slowly nodded, “Okay.” She hadn’t assumed Harry to immediately want to ask his questions. She imagined it was just something he said now, but by the time they were deep in conversation about his reason for being here, he’d forget about it and never actually ask her a question.
But Mia thought wrong. By the glint in Harry’s eyes, she could already tell it was going to be a mischievous question. He tapped his ringed fingers together, dressed in another black large jumper that swallowed him whole but also made him look very cuddly – she had a hard time focussing on his words as she just wanted him to sit still so she could stare at him. His hands or his lips specifically.
Mia prepared herself for a question she’d have to decline. It’d be something about her dating life, or her – non-existent – sexual escapades. She’d have to turn down his question and Harry would get angry and storm out again and they’d be back to square one.
“What’s your earliest memory?” Harry questioned, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair as he got comfortable. His free hand reached for his tea and he blew a little bit of air into the hot liquid before taking a careful sip.
Mia leaned back into the chair and puckered her lips, “My earliest memory… I mean – I suppose…” She started, racking her brain and nibbling her lip – also subconsciously bringing Harry’s pink sparkly pen to her mouth to push against her bottom lip in thought, “I think when I was about five, my mother started teaching me French.”
Harry frowned at Mia’s answer, “Your earliest memory is of you learning something?”
“Yes.” She timidly answered, “Is that wrong?”
Harry took a breath and shook his head, “No, no, it’s not wrong. There’s no right or wrong answer for this question, I think.”
Mia hesitated for a moment before drawing a breath, “So what’s yours?”
“My first memory?”
“Mhm.” She nodded and Harry brought both hands behind his neck in a stretch, sighing out while leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Mia nearly didn’t care about his answer anymore. All she could focus on were his bulging biceps, the way his jumper rid up slightly with the raise of his arms and how she inappropriately glanced down to see a thin strip of pale skin showing up above the waistband of his boxers.
Hazel had been right, Harry seemingly was covered in tattoos and Mia had only seen scraps of him. She almost began hoping she put on the heating in the room too hot so he’d have to take that jumper off and she could take a look at his arms.
“Hello? Earth to Mia?” Harry snapped her out her thoughts and Mia parted her lips to apologise, a deep flush rising up her neck but Harry chuckled, “Y’really need to work on that, love. Dr. Phil never zones out like that.” He teased.
She chuckled softly under her breath and nibbled her lip, “Sorry, I was lost in thought. W-What did you say?”
There was a grin on Harry’s lips, lopsided, toothy, showing off a dimple and Mia swooned like no one else. There was a tinge of smugness in the smile too, as if he knew very well what he was doing. And Harry did know what he was doing. Not that he did it on purpose, he was just being himself, but he caught Mia staring at him without blinking every few minutes. She zoned out, entranced by him and taking in every little detail and inch of skin he gave her.
She looked like a lost puppy and Harry wanted to moan at her innocent, round eyes, slightly parted pink lips and lightly flushed cheeks. She was just so cute.
“I said my earliest memory is probably of me and my dad playing catch in the yard.” He repeated for Mia and she offered him a small smile while nodding, “That’s nice.”
“Yeah.” Harry breathed with a nod, “It is.”
They were left in a little bit of silence before Mia drew a breath, “So back to our original topic…”
Harry refrained from rolling his eyes at the deep dive into his personal life once more, somehow hoping he had distracted Mia enough to carry on a normal conversation instead of it being all about him, but he wasn’t that lucky.
“You mentioned you live on campus with roommates?” Mia asked. Harry nodded, “Yeah, I live in the student housing with two roommates. We each have our own small rooms and then a shared living space, kitchen and bathroom. Across the hall are two more of my friends. Well, I met them due to being paired up here in student housing. I didn’t know any of them before coming here.” Harry explained.
Mia wrote some things down in Harry’s notebook and nodded, “Can you tell me their names? Might be easier.”
“Sure.” He shrugged, “I live with Liam and Niall. Louis and Zayn are across the hall.”
“That sounds like fun, having your friends so close by.”
Harry chuckled, “Yeah, it’s alright. It can get a bit busy sometimes and it gets hard to say no to certain things. Our rooms are really tiny so I don’t spend much time there except for sleeping and sometimes studying, but I can hardly fit my legs under the desk so I try to do that at the kitchen table when they’re in class.”
Mia frowned a little, realising how hard it had to be to not really have a space for yourself. Her apartment was shared, but her room was of a decent size and she had never felt smothered in those four walls. She scribbled down some more stuff, “Have you ever tried going to the library to study? I do it all the time, I kind of have my set seat there that I know I like. It gets just enough light but the sun is never in my eyes, and I have a distant view of campus which means I’m not too distracted but there’s some movement around. It’s not close to the toilets so not too many people have to pass me by the entire time.” She listed in a ramble, thinking of her favourite place on campus. The library calmed her down so much.
Harry raised his brows and huffed out a snicker, “Right. I use the library for other activities.” He decided to make fun of himself and Mia stared at him in shock as she turned bright red again, “Oh my god, I-I’m sorry! I hadn’t even… oh.” She palmed her forehead, realising her mistake while Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shaking his head, “It’s okay.”
Mia tried to come to terms with her embarrassment, taking a few more sips of tea while Harry did the same. She noticed that the moment he finished his cup, his hand blindly reached into his bag and he pulled out that same packet of gum. Popping one out, he flicked his eyes up to her, “Gum?”
“No, thank you.” Mia exhaled, mentally preparing herself to be met with the view again of Harry chewing on gum as if time worked in slow motion. She had to be strong.
“So, anyway,” She cleared her throat, “that’s kind of what I wanted to get to, I suppose. If you live on campus, why didn’t you just bring the girl to your dorm?”
She could hear the sound of Harry’s jaws crunching the fresh piece of gum and dared lifting her eyes, seeing him staring right at her with a thoughtful look. His gaze was intense and she knew he’d notice if she dropped her eyes just a sliver to stare at the way his jaws moved, so she swallowed and kept staring into his green eyes.
Harry eventually shrugged, putting Mia out of her misery by breaking the eye contact and she felt like she could breathe again. These sessions were tiring for her when the student was so attractive she could hardly focus.
“Well, like I said, these rooms are tiny. I need… space.” He used his hands in a circular motion as if to put more force behind his words, “Space to move, y’know? In the dorms we have a single bed, it’s not easy to manoeuvre. And besides that, there’s not much privacy. I can hear Niall snoring at night, I can hear the bedsprings when Liam rolls over…” He listed.
Mia tried to imagine what that was like and took more notes, bringing Harry’s pen back to her lip without thought as she glanced over the words she wrote down. Harry’s eyes zeroed in on the contact of his pen against her plump pink lip and he exhaled shakily before crossing his legs over one another.
“So is privacy important to you, then?”
Harry tilted his head to the side, “In general?”
Mia paused and took a breath, “O-Or when… you know… doing stuff.”
“Doing stuff?” He feigned confusion, wanting her to say it. Mia took another breath and avoided eye contact, “W-When having… uh – intercourse.”
“Intercourse.” Harry repeated in a hushed huff, shaking his head to himself with a small smile, “When having sex?” He boldly spoke and Mia held her breath when nodding, “Yes.”
Harry couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on his lips, “Mia…” He tutted, not missing the way her shoulders tensed when he murmured her name, “you can say it, you know?”
She frowned a little and shrugged, “I know. Can you please answer the question?”
He smirked wider. He knew it was a dick move, but he suspected she was a virgin ever since meeting her for the first time. Harry didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, she was still eighteen after all. He didn’t have his first time until shortly before his nineteenth birthday either, that wasn’t the point. The point was that she was trying to hide the fact she was a virgin, and it was sort of amusing to him that she had to listen to him talking about having sex in a public library while she had no experience whatsoever.
“I’ll answer when you say it.”
Mia shot him a deadpanned look, “Harry…” She pleaded, and this time it was Harry’s turn to feel his tummy clenching together at the sound of his name falling from her lips. If he closed her eyes, he could imagine her whining it like that in her soft voice while sitting on his lap with her top off.
This was dangerous, dangerous territory. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, there was a thin line between his teasing and her feeling put on the spot, but he was exploring that line right now. He cleared his throat to get the dirty visual out of his brain, but he couldn’t help himself but wonder what she looked like underneath those warm clothes.
“Go on.” He pushed, deciding it was one last time and if she declined right now, he’d leave it at that. He could already see her pressing her lips together, her cheeks reddening and her eyes looking anywhere besides at him. The pen was tightly clenched between her fingers and she shifted on the couch – tucking her other leg underneath her this time – before inhaling a shaky breath, “Fine. When having s-sex.”
His brows raised up, feeling completely impressed with her. Mia tried to look at him sternly, like it wasn’t the first time she had said those words out loud to someone who was basically a stranger. She tried to hold the eye contact, but she was crumpling on the inside. Harry’s face was rather priceless though, Mia felt. She felt a little proud of herself, but also very uncomfortable and in unfamiliar territory.
Harry smiled to himself and hung his head a little lower to hide it, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t want everyone to see, I still think it’s something shared between you and your partner. Or partners, whatever.” He spoke, “But the idea of getting caught is a little thrilling, I have to admit.”
Mia’s cheeks had turned into a normal colour now that Harry answered her question. She could feel the feeling in her fingertips returning as she nodded, “So that’s why you did it? Because you like the feeling of maybe getting caught?” She guessed.
Harry rolled his head back into the couch with a sigh, “Not entirely. I-I don’t know. Why’s it matter?”
Mia relaxed in the seat again, “I’m not trying to give you advice or anything here.” Mia spoke, referring to what Harry assumed these sessions would be about the first time they met up earlier this week. Harry’s head lifted and he stared at her with guilt behind his green irises, lips twitching down a little, “I know.”
“I guess I’m just trying to understand.” Mia shrugged and Harry sighed, “But why do you have to understand? Isn’t it normal that you don’t always understand why or how other people do something? It’s such a… psychological thing.” He couldn’t help but turn it back towards their difference in education as he shrugged, “Can’t people just do things because they want to and feel like it? Why do you always have to understand, maybe sometimes you just won’t. Ever. And I think that’s okay?” He rambled.
Mia wrote down in the notebook, finding herself in agreement with Harry but it went against what she had to do in these sessions. She drew a breath, “I understand where you’re coming from. Listen, I-I don’t make the rules here, I’m just executing them.” She softly spoke in defeat, hoping Harry understood.
He looked at her for a few more seconds, because he did understand. And it just sort of clicked for him. He wasn’t looking at a girl who’s biggest dream was to become a therapist. He was looking at a girl who wanted to pass her classes and her exams, and who needed extra credit even if it meant spending time volunteering in a job she wasn’t all that passionate about and was trying to find herself in.
“Okay.” Harry eventually breathed, “But I think I’ve earned the right to ask you another question.”
Mia softly groaned under her breath, feeling discomfort rising in her body at whatever Harry would fire at her. She sighed and shrugged, “I guess.”
He smiled and rubbed his hands together, mindlessly chewing the piece of gum between his teeth as he thought of it and eventually cleared his throat, “Who’s your hero?”
Yet another question Mia had never seen coming, so it took her a moment to even realise his words before she thought about it. They were left in silence, Harry observing her as Mia was lost in thought until she eventually flicked her eyes at him, “Maya Angelou.”
“Wow.” Harry muttered out, nodding to himself and finding himself impressed, “That’s a really good answer. Did you read her book?”
“I know why the caged bird sings?” Mia asked before nodding, “Yes.”
Harry smiled wider, “That’s so cool.”
“Have you read it?” Mia asked and Harry shook his head, “No, but I really want to.”
Mia nibbled her lip, “I have my copy of it at the apartment, I could lend it to you if you want to.”
Harry’s face lit up as he eagerly nodded, “That’d be sick. Yeah.”
“Okay.” She smiled back widely, “I’ll bring it next week. It’s got some folded edges and I think I wrote down stuff in it and highlighted some paragraphs.” She began in the form of an apology but Harry shook his head, “Don’t worry, I like that. I want to know what you felt like reading it.”
Mia blinked a few times in shock at his words, shyly smiling down, “Alright.”
The rest of the session went by quickly, with Mia trying to explore Harry’s relationship with the school. Another reason she could think of why he would do something as provocative as sleeping with someone in the library. She knew Harry had a bit of a rough first year, so maybe he held some sort of grudge against the school, but Harry didn’t give her much of an answer to that and didn’t feel very strongly about the school in general.
He asked her another question in between, and this time it was what her favourite memory was. Mia didn’t have to think long about that one, immediately responding how she took a solo trip with her two best friends over summer. It was the first time she really went somewhere without her parents and she had never felt so free – she didn’t say it to Harry in those words but she did think fondly of those times with her friends.
Two friends, who took the leap and the opportunity to study abroad this year while Mia stayed behind. One was in Australia, the other in New York. Very far away and Mia missed them tremendously, but they kept in touch through facetime and Mia had even received a couple of postcards.
The pictures she received of Millie lying on a sunny beach in Australia while she was freezing her butt off here, made her jealous to say the least.
Mia wasn’t sure how Harry managed to get her so weak in the knees, but every little movement he did just caught her off guard and she’d need a minute to recompose herself. She wished his session was the last one, so one, he could maybe stay a little longer and they could chat, and two, she could just go home afterwards and faint on her bed.
But no, Harry’s hour was up and she had to see two others after that and stay here until seven before going home to a crowded apartment – which still sent her spiralling. She had given Hazel the green light to invite her friends over, something she already regretted tremendously but it was too late now to back down. Mia pushed herself out of her comfort zone but regretted it instantly and tried to crawl back, but she couldn’t do that to Hazel.
“So – uh, Tuesday at three?” Harry checked as he got up and put on his coat again. Mia stood up too, awkwardly fiddling with the sleeves of her jumper before nodding, “Yes, Tuesday at three.”
Harry opened up the door already to get out but looked over his shoulder, “Have a nice weekend, Mia."
“You t-“
“Harry!” The voice interrupted Mia as she was about to wish Harry a happy weekend, and she watched with a surprised look at the girl rushing up to Harry in the hallway. She had brown hair in a ponytail, cute bangs covering up her forehead and pink cheeks from the cold outside, “There you are!” She smiled widely.
“Oh. Hey.” He mumbled, a little taken aback to see this girl here. He scratched the back of his neck while I stared at her and how beautiful she was, and the knot in my stomach dropped when I took a step back. Was she the girl he had slept with? Or was she his girlfriend? She was very pretty and she just looked… cool. Fun. She looked like his type.
Mia wanted to curl into a ball at the sight or her waiting for him and Harry glanced over his shoulder again, “Bye.”
“Bye.” Mia murmured, receiving a gentle smile from the girl who picked him up before the door closed and they left together. Her stomach was in knots seeing him leave with her. She seemed nice, the girl with the bangs and the outstanding figure and the bubbly personality. It only made Mia shrink further away, wondering how she could ever think Harry would like her.
-----------------
The tightness in her stomach hadn’t left, and it only worsened when she realised she couldn’t just go home and cry to Hazel about whatever stupid thing had happened and then go to bed at an early hour. No, she had to open the door to multiple people being in her home.
Mia had never been a hostess, she had never really had people over. When she met up with her friends, she used to go to their houses. Her parents weren’t all that keen on having people over and disrupting their day-to-day lives. So Mia did the effort and always went over to their place instead.
She had stayed at the library for one more hour to go over her therapy notes, trying to fix all the writing mistakes she made while penning down so rapidly as people spoke to her. As much as she had tried to pay attention to the other two students who came after Harry, her mind was constantly on him.
And the pretty girl he left with.
By now, her stomach was growling and she dragged herself home, completely dreading the moment she’d open the door and be met with strange people and noises. Mia realised she sounded whiny, but the presence of crowds just dragged her down a little. She was definitely someone who gained energy and good vibes from being by herself or having individual contacts.
The moment she pushed her key into the lock of her flat, she plastered a warm smile on her face and opened up the door. Instead of being met with rowdy, partying people, she opened up the door to a lovely warm apartment to see Hazel and two other girls on the couch drinking some tea.
“Mia.” Hazel’s face lit up as she jumped to her feet, “Hi!”
“Hello.” Mia smiled as she put her bag down and nervously pushed off her coat. She glanced over Hazel’s shoulder to the two other girls who curiously looked at her and Hazel exhaled a breath while smiling, “You’re home, good. We waited on deciding for dinner until you were here. Are you hungry?”
Mia rubbed her hands together, an anxious trait before she also started fiddling with her earlobe. She nodded at Hazel’s question, “Quite hungry, yes.”
“Alright.” Hazel nodded, “Ready to meet my two friends? They’re my best friends, I’ve told you lots about them already.”
Mia nibbled her lip and nodded, “Okay.”
Hazel linked her arm in Mia’s and gently pulled her into the living room, “Guys, this is Mia, my angel of a roommate.” She introduced her and Mia immediately blushed while staring at the ground in shyness before lifting her head. The two girls seemed lovely and friendly as they offered Mia warm smiles, “Hi, we’ve heard so much about you.” One said and the other nodded, “It’s really nice to meet you.” She added.
“You too.” Mia murmured. Hazel then spoke again, “Mia, that’s Cassie.” She introduced Mia to a girl with strawberry blonde hair, styled into a wolf cut that looked incredible on her, before moving onto the next girl, “And Lynn. They live together.” She explained.
Mia nodded and took in the second girl, who had raven-coloured long hair and wore it in a high ponytail. She wore dark, smudgy eye make-up and it looked incredible on her. Both were dressed in outfits that signalled they were going to some sort of bar after this, because they weren’t really dressed for cold weather at all.
“Yeah, we live together with the spawn of Satan.” Lynn dramatically added, and before Mia knew it they were explaining to her the story of how they were fighting with their third roommate and hardly dared going home anymore since the third girl terrorised the place apparently. Mia listened with wide eyes and interesting nods. She had never been introduced to so much drama but it was quite fun to hear about.
Hazel stared at her roommate with proud eyes as she sat in between Cassie and Lynn. Mia only really turned pink and shy when they asked her a question, but Hazel had spoken to them about Mia and let them know to take it easy on her.
They eventually decided to order pizza, Mia even branching out by trying a few toppings. She had to admit she forgot all about Harry while hanging out with Hazel’s friends in such a non-expecting kind of way. Like these people were just genuinely nice and interested and they didn’t judge or want anything from her.
It was refreshing. She didn’t have to prove a thing to them.
“Alright, it’s nine in the evening, I think it’s time to start drinking.” Cassie eventually announced after finishing up her tea, “Who wants margarita’s?!”
Lynn and Hazel both cheered as Mia blinked at Cassie a few times, who softly smiled at Mia from her position next to her, “Do you want one, Mia? I can make it non-alcohol if you like.”
Mia let out a relieved breath and nodded, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”
“No problem.” Cassie assured before she got up her feet and made herself comfortable in Mia and Hazel’s kitchen. Mia’s fingers itched to go help her or clean up after her or tell her not to slam the drawers so hard – but she refrained herself. She was trying to let go.
Once the doorbell rang, everyone assumed it was the pizza delivery service, but the third friend showed up. Renan was a very gay eighteen year old who Hazel had known most of her life. His hair was dyed navy blue and he sported a nose ring – which made Mia think of Harry instantly. He was just as friendly as the other two yet Mia needed a little more time to warm up to him for the simple fact that he was a man and she hadn’t interacted with men all that much in such a casual setting.
The non-alcohol margarita tasted delicious and eventually, Cassie made her a second one when the pizza’s arrived. It was foreign for Mia, sitting on the carpet around the coffee table and sharing pizza while having drinks and casual chats with friends. She was mostly listening to what they talked about, observing a little bit and smiling along sometimes.
Hazel followed her gaze when Mia got a text from Harry, smirking knowingly but not saying anything to her friends. Mia was pretty sure Lynn was in philosophy too.
Message from: H. Sinclair
Today’s session was actually kind of fun! Still no plans for tonight?
Mia warily looked at the message, leaving it open for a bit as she turned her phone over again and contemplated on what to answer him. She could feel Hazel staring at her and avoided her eyes. She didn’t exactly want to discuss this with the entire group, it’d be something for her and Hazel to talk about when they were on their own.
“So Mia, do you want to go out with us tonight? We’re just going to this bar near campus.” Renan asked while chewing his pizza. Mia stopped mid-chew to stare at him and then flicked her eyes to Hazel, who was already looking back at her. Mia swallowed and cleared her throat, “Oh – uh… I don’t know.”
“Why not?” He pouted and Mia chuckled, “I-I wanted to revise a little bit.”
Cassie groaned in protest, “But it’s a Friday! Come on, it’ll be fun. It’s just a bar, nothing too crazy or loud or far. If you want to go home, you can.” She promised.
Mia felt put on the spot but eventually nodded, “Y-Yeah. Okay. I’ll come with you.” Her heart was beating a billion miles an hour as she agreed to do something she had never done before, and her anxiety was through the roof.
She stopped eating the pizza, her appetite fully gone and then she grabbed her phone, texting Harry back with shaky fingers.
Message to: H. Sinclair
I’m glad you liked it :). I’m going to a bar.
She sent it like that and locked her phone again before Hazel pulled her out of her thoughts, “Mia, can I talk to you for a minute?” She asked, nudging her head towards her bedroom. Mia nodded and followed her, blocking out the noise of the other three talking and laughing as she closed the door behind them when in Hazel’s bedroom.
“Are you okay?” Hazel checked immediately, “You don’t have to go out with us if you don’t want to. They won’t mind, I promise. They’re not like that. They just really like you and it would be fun if you’d join us. We’re just headed to that bar across the East building, it’s really mellow there and nothing rowdy.” She rambled.
“I-I’m fine. I think.” Mia stuttered, “Just a little nervous.”
Hazel pouted a little, “I know, I can tell.”
Mia fiddled with her fingers, “Can you… make me pretty then?”
“You’re already pretty.” Hazel frowned and Mia nibbled her lip, “Yeah, but… I don’t know, like my clothes and what make-up I should wear?”
“Of course,” Hazel rushed out, “but you don’t need any of that. Where’s this coming from?”
Mia pressed her lips together and shrugged and Hazel frowned deeper, “Is this because of Harry?”
“He just…” Mia sighed before shrugging again and diverting her eyes lower, “some girl picked him up after therapy and she was really pretty.”
“Is she his girlfriend, you think?”
“I don’t know.” Mia murmured, “I didn’t talk to her and I haven’t asked him. I-It’s stupid, right? That I’m feeling so down about that?”
“It’s not.” Hazel shook her head, “You like him a little, you have a crush. So it’s not a nice feeling to see him with someone else, even if she’s not his girlfriend. Have you spoken to him afterwards?”
Mia pulled out her phone, unlocked it and showed her screen with the messages. Hazel’s eyes flicked over the typed letters and she puffed out a loud huff, “Damn, Mia, you’re cold!”
“What?” Mia asked with raised brows and Hazel laughed softly, “You didn’t give him any room for an answer! You didn’t ask what he was doing, you didn’t say what bar you’re going to… it’s pretty obvious he asked you that because he wants to see you tonight.” She grinned.
Mia frowned, “It is? Obvious? I-I don’t know.”
Hazel playfully rolled her eyes, “You’re just so oblivious. Come on, let’s get you ready.”
“Yeah.” Mia ignored the heaviness in her tummy, somehow wanting to do this tonight but today had just already been a lot and she felt like she could use a nap. But she tried to be more spontaneous. If the bar really was that close, maybe she could just leave after like ten minutes of socialising and pushing her boundaries.
“D’you want a hug first?” Hazel offered and Mia sighed with low shoulders, “Yes, please.”
Hazel chuckled and pulled Mia into her, and the two hugged in the bedroom of the apartment which relaxed Mia to an extent she couldn’t explain. She pulled back with a soft smile, “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Hazel nodded, before pulling Mia into her own bedroom to pick out an outfit.
About twenty minutes later, the entire crew of five was in Mia’s bedroom, looking for outfits. Mia had felt uncomfortable at first with all these people in her space, but they didn’t make anything weird and they didn’t look at her strangely. They just looked at her clothes and gave her advice, eventually settling on a cute flowy top with little blue flowers on it. It was a little low shaped around her chest but nothing her loose hair wouldn’t cover up. She pulled out the braid for the first time in what felt like forever.
Along with black flares that nipped in at her waist to give her an outstanding figure – as Renan said it to make Mia blush – and some heeled boots, the observers deemed her ready to go out with them. Mia borrowed a leather blazer from Hazel and felt like an entirely new woman.
She was still fiddly and anxious, but also a little excited. She felt comfortable around these people and she hadn’t heard from Harry anymore. She hardly believed Hazel’s words. If Harry wanted to see her, he’d ask her, right?
Cassie offered her another non-alcohol margarita while Lynn did some magic on Mia’s eyes. With just some soft brown eyeshadow and a little blush, she looked very put together and was happy with the result.
“You have such good skin.” Lynn complimented while stroking the brush over Mia’s cheeks. The compliment made her smile and giddy inside, “Thank you. I have a pretty good routine down.”
“Yeah? You should let me have a look at those products.” She chuckled, “My skin’s a nightmare ever since going on birth control.”
Mia didn’t answer much, she couldn’t really talk about the topic of birth control. She wasn’t on any – her mother would absolutely kill her if she so much as mentioned it – and she didn’t feel like she truly needed it right now. Her periods weren’t all that bad and she wasn’t sexually active.
Once Mia put on her shoes, everyone was ready to leave a little bit before eleven. Mia couldn’t remember the last time she stayed up this late, her arm linked in Hazel’s as they braved the November cold in their thin – yet pretty – outfits.
A few streets over, Harry was in the very bar Mia was heading to. He sat next to Liam, drinking beer out of the bottle with his jumper on the chair next to him and his arms on display. He leaned back into the chair, watching as Niall and Louis played a game of pool and Zayn was at the bar ordering some more drinks.
His phone was on the table, staring at Mia’s message. He let out another sigh after swallowing his beer, “Seriously, what am I supposed to answer to that?” He groaned while showing Liam the screen. His friend had chuckled at his desperate attempts to get Mia to have a decent conversation with him through text. He shrugged, “She’s not a mind reader, Harry. I don’t think there’s any malicious intent in her text, she just doesn’t realise what you really want to ask.”
Harry rolled his eyes, nervously chewing on his lip. Today had been great with Mia – great enough that Harry could not get her out of his mind. The way her face fell when Sarah waited for him after the session, hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He didn’t understand it, but didn’t have time to ask her anything.
Harry shot Sarah a brief wave, who was on the other side of the bar with Mitch. They were also people Harry had gotten to know through student housing, and he actually set the two of them up. He was quite proud of his work as Cupid, he only hoped he could do it for himself once too.
As Zayn came back with the beers, the door opened with a little ding and Harry routinely checked to see who walked in and if it was someone he knew.
He froze completely when he did a double take, thinking he recognized Mia, only she looked completely different. Well, not completely different. Her hair was the same – only out of the braid – and he recognized the blue of her eyes as well as her soft pink lips, and the shape of her body in the flares she had worn all day.
But she looked confident, dressed in a cute floral top which was mostly hidden by the leather jacket she wore. She was surrounded by giddy girls which Harry recognized faintly from school. Mia had her arm linked in Hazel’s, someone Harry knew from certain classes.
“Liam.” He elbowed his buddy in the ribs harshly while keeping his eyes trained on Mia, who unsurely darted her eyes through the space to seize it up. Harry wondered if she had ever been here before.
“Ouch.” Liam complained, rubbing his sore rib as he frowned at Harry, “What?”
“That’s her.” He nudged his head in Mia’s direction who was now near the bar and standing close to Hazel while fiddling with her fingers. Liam chuckled, “Mia? She’s the one in the floral top?”
“Yes.” He nodded and Liam hummed, “She’s really cute.”
Harry turned around with a glare and Liam burst out into a cackle, “Fucking hell, you’ve got it bad. I mean she looks really sweet, H. Kind of too sweet for you.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “Too sweet for me.” He repeated in a low mumble and Liam chuckled again, “I don’t think it’s a bad thing, I think you can use someone to soften you up a little. You’re always so grumpy and uptight.”
“’M not uptight.” Harry retorted and Liam rolled his eyes, “It’s not because you fuck someone in a library and get caught doing so, that you’re not uptight. You’re just so… impatient and short-tempered. Like I said, someone to soften you up.”
Harry rolled his eyes too and snuck his eyes back to Mia, completely drawn to her and he knew other guys in the space were shooting her looks too. It was obviously someone new, someone no one had really seen before. She didn’t stand out much still in between her rather eclectic friends – including a guy with blue hair – but she was very easy on the eyes.
When she finally caught his eye, Mia’s face completely fell in pure shock. She paled and swallowed thickly, forcing him a tight-lipped smile, which Harry returned as he shot her a small wave. Mia’s heart was pounding and she turned around briskly, “Hazel.” She spoke in a right panic, eyes wide and heart thrashing violently in her chest.
Hazel frowned, “What’s wrong?”
“He’s here.” Mia squeaked in a shaky voice, “He’s here, he’s sitting right there! Oh my god.” She whispered while bringing her hand up to her mouth, “Oh my god, I’m gonna be sick.”
Hazel pressed her lips together, trying to keep a straight face when she really wanted to burst out laughing, “Mia,” She breathed, “he’s just a guy. Just… let him come to you and see what happens. You don’t need to be nervous. He’s just like you and me.”
Mia tried to level her breathing, tried to really listen to what Hazel was saying but her mind was clouded with anxiety, balancing on the edge of excitement but just tipping over into the truly scary side that made her spiral a little.
She felt Harry’s eyes burning into her back and she subconsciously immediately wondered if he liked the way she looked tonight. Hazel nudged her into a booth and Mia slid in, sitting in between Cassie and Hazel and right across from Renan and Lynn. Her hands anxiously rubbed together on her lap until Hazel took a hold of one of them to distract her.
Mia really couldn’t explain how eternally grateful she was for her friend and her endless patience.
Sitting down, she found herself calming down a little. Harry wasn’t in her direct sight, she’d have to near snap her neck to take a look at him. She slowly sipped on the non-alcohol drink Hazel ordered her. It tasted sweeter than the margarita from earlier and she found herself quite liking it. She listened in on conversation but no one really seemed to mind that she was more of a silent observer than a loud participant.
Letting her eyes scan the room, Mia began to appreciate the building they were in. It was cosy and nice. The music was rather soft and in the background, it was littered with booths and then some smaller, round tables. There were pool tables on one side, the ceilings were high and had some wooden beams on them and the bar was long and shiny. It really did give off a good vibe.
Her breath caught in her throat again though when she laid eyes on the girl she had seen Harry with earlier. Her hair was still in the ponytail and she smiled widely at something the guy opposite her said, and Mia’s eyes widened when she leaned over the table and planted a kiss to his lips.
Okay, so not Harry’s girlfriend.
Mia instantly felt silly for immediately assuming something like that and let out a sigh, wondering if she had been harsh in her messaging to Harry. With her lip between her teeth, she pulled out her phone.
Message to: H. Sinclair
Hi. :)
She left the page open, waiting for the three dots to appear in an answer from him, but minutes passed and nothing came on. Mia exhaled a breath and dared to sneak a glance over her shoulder, quickly seeing Harry leaned over the pool table with a stick in his hand and his lip between his teeth before he took his shot. She averted her eyes to the table behind him, seeing his phone on it.
He hadn’t seen. He hadn’t ignored her.
She felt relieved again, but hated the way she was so affected by this entire thing. She hadn’t really even known Harry for a week yet had seen him three times, and the receiving or not receiving a message from him really affected her mood. She didn’t like it, the power she had so willingly handed him because she was very certain it wasn’t the other way around.
She doubted he thought of her that much or that he waited for her text, or that he was this nervous to be in the same room as her.
Following along in conversation again, it was only a few minutes later that Mia wiggled herself out of the booth to get the next round. She had seen other people ordering and then the bartenders brought the drinks to the table, so she could do that. Order and pay, and then sit down again for them to be delivered. There was no way she could carry five drinks.
She had taken off the blazer and brushed her hair over her shoulder as she waited in line, subtly glancing to her left to see Harry again. She had been so shocked to see his face, that she hadn’t even noticed he was wearing a shirt and she could see his arms. He was too far away for her to decently see what tattoos he had, but he definitely had tattoos. His one arm looked like it was inked with lots of smaller doodles, while his other arm seemed mostly vacant apart from a few larger ones she couldn’t really see well.
He had a concentrated frown on his forehead, brown wavy chestnut hair swept away with one little floppy curl hanging down over the skin. He peeked through one eye before jamming his arm forward, bicep flexing as he harshly hit the white ball to collide with another.
Mia didn’t know much about the rules of pool, but in her mind, Harry had just won the entire game. He stared critically at his work, walking a slow circle around the table until she could see his casual jeans coming into sight. With the white t-shirt on, he looked so incredibly good she could drool if she opened her mouth.
“Hi.” Someone stood in front of her, blocking her view of Harry immediately and she blinked a couple of times to snap out of her thoughts. In front of her was a blonde man, smiling gently down at her to reveal one dimple in his cheek.
Harry had two.
She shifted on her other leg and politely smiled back, “Hi.”
“I haven’t seen you around here before, is it your first time here?” He questioned out of the blue and Mia swallowed, nodding softly, “It is.”
He took a swig of his beer and hummed, “Well, nice to meet you. I’m Tyler.” He extended his hand for her to shake and Mia hesitantly did, shaking it, “Mia.” She introduced herself.
The guy didn’t move away from her as she moved up a spot in the line for the bar. She snuck a glance over her shoulder, seeing Hazel and Cassie with their backs to her while Lynn and Renan were too busy in conversation to notice Mia talking to this stranger.
She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans awkwardly, not sure what else to do with them.
“So you’re a student, I suppose?” Tylerasked, shuffling along with her. Mia nodded, “I am. Psychology, first year.”
Tyler’s face lit up, “Really? No way! I’m in my third year of psychology.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” Mia smiled gently, feeling slightly more at ease now that it sounded like he was just being polite and moving up in the line with her. Maybe he attempted to strike up a conversation to cut the line a little, make people think they were together so he didn’t have to wait for drinks as long.
“First year’s quite hard, don’t let it demotivate you though.” Tyler advised, “Are you struggling with any subjects?”
All of them – Mia thought to herself, but she shrugged instead, “It’s alright.” She lied, “Neuropsychology is quite difficult.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Tyler groaned, “I hated that. Who’s the professor again?”
“Professor Sawyer.” Mia answered and he chuckled again, “Right. She was such a bitch to me in my first year.”
Mia felt a little taken aback by his blunt words and just pressed her lips together. Never did she think she’d ever call another woman a bitch. Nor did she think professor Sawyer was one. She was a strict professor, but a correct one. She brought the course materials in a very right way, only it was a difficult subject and Mia was already slightly behind due to her dyslexia.
“So – uh,” Mia cleared her throat, forcing herself to say something, “how did your first year go?”
Tyler chuckled while taking another sip, “Passed the entire thing, with flying colours actually.”
Even if he was cocky about it, Mia did find herself slightly impressed. Tyler caught onto the look of wonder in her eyes, “If you ever have any questions… I could tutor you.”
Mia’s stomach tightened and her hands balled into fists in the back pockets of her jeans, “Oh. T-That’s nice but I’m actually following tutoring sessions already.”
“Yeah, but you have to pay for those. You wouldn’t have to pay for them with me. Unless – I mean, if you wanted to buy me dinner or pay me back in some other way, I wouldn’t stop you.” He had a small smirk on his lips and Mia’s cheeks heated up, immediately wondering if he meant what she thought he meant, and she very much hoped not.
She offered him a tight-lipped smile and Lucas drew a breath, “I’ll put my number in your phone, y’know, in case you ever need it.”
Mia felt her throat going a little dry, “I-I don’t have my phone on me right now.” She mumbled. It was true, she had left it on the table. All she took was some cash. She looked at her table, realising no one had noticed yet that she was here with Tyler in a conversation that had turned unpleasant pretty quickly. Not even the people around her – who could listen in – seemed alarmed at how uncomfortable she got.
“Oh,” Tyler pulled out his phone, “you can put your number in mine then.”
Mia’s lips parted as she scanned her brain for the right words to say until she eventually found her voice, “I – uh… I don’t think I want that. I don’t need tutoring, thank you.”
“Mia.” He frowned, pushing his phone a little closer to her, “C’mon, put in your number.”
“She said no, just back off.” Harry’s voice sounded closer by then she could’ve anticipated, and Mia jumped up a little at his sudden interruption. She could see him behind Tyler, a concerned frown on his face before he glanced at Mia, “Hey. You alright?”
“Y-Yeah.” She shakily answered. Tyler stared Harry up and down, “What? Mate, I’m in conversation.”
“Not anymore.” Harry shrugged, “Get lost, leave her alone. She doesn’t want your number.”
Tyler frowned deeper at him and then stared at Mia, huffing out bitterly before he turned around and left. Mia felt like she could breathe decently and Harry took Tyler’s spot, taking in Mia’s trembling form.
“Mia.” He tried to get her attention, moving one hand to her arm to get her to look at him, “I need you to tell me if you’re okay.”
Mia felt electrified with him touching her for the first time, a warm palm that she could feel even through the fabric of her floral blouse with the long bell sleeves. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.” She murmured. Harry still looked worried as he nodded and then dropped his hand, “Good. I sent you like three texts asking you if I had to come and save you.”
She rubbed her forehead, “I left my phone on the table, I didn’t see.”
“Oh. Well, it’s always a good idea to bring your phone if you’re leaving your little group. Even in a bar like this, there are creeps everywhere.” His voice sounded gravelly and if Mia hadn’t been so flustered from her run-in with Tyler, she’d appreciate the way Harry stood in front of her in his effortless beauty. How someone could make a white shirt and blue jeans look so fashionable, was a mystery to her.
“Right.” She nodded at his words which were so obvious, “I-I’m sorry.” Mia felt stupid for not thinking of something so small as keeping her phone on her. Her arms were around herself and Harry shook his head, “Don’t apologise, ‘m just glad you’re okay.” He reassured her.
“And thank you for saving me.” She breathed, “He wanted my number, I-I didn’t want him to have it.”
Harry nodded, “I know.” He tried his best to keep his calm, but to see some guy blatantly flirting with an anxious Mia while he had to watch from across the bar as she forced him tight-lipped smiles and hardly dared to look at him, had been torture for Harry.
He didn’t want to overstep, but he didn’t want to leave her alone either. When he saw her visibly flinching at something he said, that’s where Harry drew the line and went to intervene. And he was glad he did, and he felt like he should’ve done it sooner.
“I was just trying to be polite.” Mia choked out, “I wasn’t flirting with him, I-I swear.”
“Hey,” He frowned, bringing his hand back to her bicep to gently rub in an attempt to calm her down, “I know, it’s okay. I didn’t think you were.”
Mia’s body flooded with relief at his words and Harry then shot her a reassuring smile, “I’m actually glad to run into you here. Didn’t think this was the bar you were referring to.”
“Oh.” Mia smiled softly, “I-I’ve never actually been here. I usually stay in on Fridays and enjoy some time by myself.”
Harry nodded, “Right. Well, I’m glad you’re here.” He repeated, feeling stupid about saying the same thing twice, but it was worth it when it caused Mia to shyly smile down at her feet. Harry decided to push it, feeling slightly more confident that maybe – just maybe – she had a crush on him too. “You look really pretty, Mia.”
“Stop.” She winced, bringing her hands out of the pockets of her jeans to hide her face with a giggle. Harry laughed at that, “What?” He pried and she shook her head, “You’re making me blush.” She admitted in a murmur.
They shuffled further into the line, only one person in front of them before she could place her order. “Because I’m giving you a compliment?” Harry asked and Mia nodded, still hiding her face until she spread her fingers so she could peek through them. Harry was still smiling at her and she eventually dropped her hands, revealing her pink cheeks and her soft grin.
Harry breathed out a chuckle and shook his head, “You’re also really cute.”
“Oh my god.” Mia winced, hiding her face again and Harry laughed a little louder this time, not stopping himself as he ghosted his hand over her lower back to nudge her forward. He did gently touch her to get her attention, “It’s your turn to order.”
Mia took a breath before removing her hands and clearing her throat in front of the waiter, “Hi. Uh – two beers, one red martini and one pink martini. And one alcohol free margarita, please.”
Harry’s lips twitched up in a soft smile, and he didn’t have to ask her to know which drink was for her. He also signalled the waiter, “Another beer for me. You can bring the drinks to that table,” He pointed to where Mia’s friends were, “and bring one of the beers and the margarita straight here.” He spoke.
The waiter nodded and when Mia went to pay for the drinks, Harry shook his head and instead offered his own card before Mia could protest. She stared at Harry with big wondrous eyes and he smiled down at her before urging her to sit down on one of the barstools off to the side. She did as he motioned for her to do before watching him as he grabbed another barstool and easily lifted it.
The sight of his muscles working just made her feel something she couldn’t really explain, and Harry was oblivious to her staring eyes as he placed the stool down right next to hers, their knees bumping together clumsily before he climbed on it.
“Thank you for the drink.” Mia broke the silence. Harry waved her sentiment away with a chuckle, “That’s alright.”
“How did you know the margarita was mine?” She asked curiously and Harry leaned his elbow on the bartop, shrugging, “Guessed it. You don’t strike me as the type to drink much.”
Mia’s smile fell a little and Harry caught on, quickly shaking his head, “No, no, I don’t mean in like a… I think you’re boring-way, because definitely not. I don’t know, you just seem careful.”
“I am.” She admitted, leaving out the part where she wondered sometimes if it was too careful. Mia always felt like careful was a nice way of saying that she was boring, and she had heard it all her life. Some said she was too careful and others – her parents – claimed she was never careful enough. Mia drew a breath, “I’ve never had an alcoholic drink.”
“That’s fine.” Harry shrugged, “I don’t drink much besides beer either."
Their drinks got placed in front of them before the waiter hurried away to serve the remainder of the people waiting in line. Harry lifted up his bottle, “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Mia softly smiled, “And thank you, again. For the drink, for stepping in, for… everything.”
“Now you’re going to make me blush.” He teased and Mia giggled, taking a sip of her drink as he took a sip of his. He swallowed it, “D’you want to try it? Beer?” He offered her his bottle.
“Oh.” Mia hesitated, nibbling her lip. Harry saw her stare, “It doesn’t have much alcohol in it. You definitely won’t feel it from one sip, I promise.”
She looked at him and eventually nodded, “Okay.” She took the bottle from him and carefully brought it to her lips. Harry wanted to shoot himself when he could only think unholy things as she tipped the bottle back and her lips folded around the crown of it. He wanted to throw it to the side and pull her on his lap and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.
Somehow it felt a little intimate, her drinking from his bottle. Her drinking where his lips had just been. Mia made a bit of a sour face at the taste and swallowed quickly, “I don’t think I like it.”
Harry chuckled and quickly reached for the bottle again, taking an urgent sip with the sole purpose of trying to taste some of her on it. And he did. The sweetness of her drink was covering up the crown of the bottle, and he licked his lips to savour it afterwards.
“You have so many tattoos.” Mia observed, deciding to state the obvious now that she could get a good look at his arms. Harry glanced down too and nodded, “I do. Kind of couldn’t stop once I started. I really only started getting them when I turned eighteen and it went on from there.” He simply explained.
Mia finally could see the full writing on his wrist, staring at the ink that decorated him so perfectly it seemed almost like he was born with it.
Her and Harry got lost in a conversation she couldn’t exactly remember. The green of his eyes was enough to block out all her senses, and Harry thought it was adorable how she had to often ask him to repeat a question because she was stuck staring at him. It turned into blushing cheeks for her and teasing grins from him.
Their knees bumped together more often now and Mia’s cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. She still felt some anxiety, but it was pure excitement now. Excitement to spend time with Harry, who had sort of been her knight in shining armour tonight. Mia hated to admit that she found that attractive, yet she had a feeling Harry didn’t mind being protective.
And she felt safe here, with him in a rather crowded bar.
Her smile faltered though when she noticed Tyler again in the corner of her eye, glaring at the pair as he mumbled something to one of his mates. They didn’t seem to pay much attention to his words, but Mia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Harry took notice of it, following her gaze before shooting her a sympathetic smile, “Are you okay?” He checked once more.
Mia exhaled a breath and contemplated her answer, but Harry beat her to it, “D’you want to go home?”
She lifted her eyes, apologising to him through them, “I think so, yes.”
He nodded understandingly, “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”
Mia’s brows raised, “What? You don’t have to do that. Your friends are all here.”
“I see them every day.” He chuckled, “I don’t mind, Mia. Really. It would make me feel a lot better to know you got home safe.”
She nibbled her lip in hesitation, “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.” He nodded with a confirming smile, “I suppose you don’t live far?”
“No, like ten minutes.”
“Perfect.” Harry smiled, “Come on, let me walk you home.”
She fought the grin on her lips but found herself nodding, “Okay.”
Hi Guys, been a long time (years) since I was on here. Yesterday evening I remembered agerman Harry Styles fanfic called „Phantom“ by Sveaska I think. There was an 8tracks playlist to it. DOES ANYONE STILL HAVE THE SONGS ON THAT PLAYLIST?!?!?! I need it to feel young again. Oh to be 16 again, and read Ff‘s all night
F I N E L I N E [h.s.] - F I N E L I N E (on Wattpad) https://my.w.tt/LGRQqzI1r4 «Puoi aiutarlo?» chiede Louis, gli occhi che mi fissano, correndo da una parte all'altra per cercare i miei. Deglutisco a vuoto, non riuscendo a pronunciare una parola mentre Harry è steso sul lettino, che sta correndo sempre più veloce verso di me. «Puoi aiutarlo?» ripete e stavolta mi sembra una supplica. Harry e Blair si conoscono in circostanze strane, mentre lui sta scrivendo “Fine Line” e si sente perso. Questa storia è un po’ un viaggio attraverso i sentimenti di ognuno tramite Harry e quello che racconta nelle sue nuove canzoni. Non è la solita storia d'amore.
SURVIVORS || Harry Styles (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/27p7m268GF "Il suo tocco sulla mia pelle bruciava di un calore confortante. Era guerra e pace allo stesso tempo, quiete e tempesta. Era la luce che mi avrebbe riportato sempre a casa."
