Chapter Eight: "His Little Crush."
Zayn rode the bus again; however, I didn't bother to talk to him. In fact, I didn't bother to talk to anybody. Not even Liam. I sat by myself and weeped alone, making sure to keep the tears in. I was crying nonstop last night.
When the bus stopped, I didn't get jerked forward. Instead I stayed still and waited for everyone to leave, before hauling myself off. Today was not an ordinary day to me. Nothing was going as it usually did.
The morning went by like a flash of lightning. I hadn't talked once and I was keeping my thoughts to myself for once. I was crawled into a corner and dreaming of a day when plans wouldn't go like this.
And eventually Design class arrived and I knew the silence wasn't going to last for much longer. Harry was off suspension and there was no doubt that he would get me to talk. He always did.
As I walked in, no one seemed to notice me. They were too busy spanning out their outfits and messing around. Everyone except... Harry.
He was slouched in his chair, lazily flipping through a book he probably wasn't even reading. I studied him for a split second, before taking a noticeable seat at the table. His eyes glanced over for a moment before going back to the book, then back to me.
"How've you been?" he inquired in a whisper.
I maintained my silence.
When I didn't respond, he sighed and turned his body until it was completely facing me. Harry's eyes lightened as he saw my flushed cheeks, quivering lips, and hollow eyes.
His fingers lingered on my knee. They were calloused, gentle, and comforting. My cheeks regained color, I could feel it. How could such a beautiful person be such a bad influence? What was Sierra seeing in him?
"Della," his raspy voice was tender, as if he didn't want to frighten me.
I finally found the will to glimpse up at him. His features were light-hearted. Eyes were concerned yet twinkling under the dim light of the classroom. Cheekbones were strong and defined. Hair starting to cascade across his acne-covered forehead and just barely tickling the ends of his ears. Lips were pursed into a frown, so close to mine I felt a tickle in the back of my throat.
"Zayn told me what happened with you and Sierra," he explained, fingers slowly dancing up my leg to my hipbone. I felt a soft finger rush past the fabric of my shirt just to touch the thick of my sides. "it wasn't your fault."
"He..." I whispered. "He told you everything?"
"Even the part about me," he faintly chuckled, his fingers dropping back down to my upper thigh. I finally exhaled from holding my breath for so long. "And I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me."
"It wasn't really about you being a bad person, Harry," I muttered. "It was just her telling me what to do. She was just mad because I talk to you."
"So you weren't standing up for me?"
"No, no," I reciprocated. "I just-"
I didn't know what to say. He was partly right. When I said what I said, it was mainly just lashing out on Sierra for her habit of bossing me around. But the more I thought about it; the more I realized it really was because of Harry.
He was starting to grow on me.
"Can we talk about this later?" I asked, sighing. I wanted to say this in private, where I could explain everything to him. And he wouldn't have to hold back. Neither would I.
"Come over after school," he blurted, almost as if it were an accident to say it.
I blinked. Of course he was only attempting to find a way to talk in private, but to me that was a bit too private. I'd never thought about where he went everyday after school. The place he called home. It almost... scared me. The idea of it, I mean.
"Sure," it was the first thing I thought of, and inched back to face my desk.
He merely smiled and copied my actions.
The cool air fanned my face like opening a freezer as I stepped from the building. For once I had a content mood and I was looking forward to going to Harry's. It was better than going home, and I needed to let a few things out.
I started walking down the walkway, hoping Harry would see me and show me the way to his flat. Although that wasn't the case, and I found myself walking next to a slick, black car. I knew it was him.
The window rolled down, and Harry's face came into view, "Coming or not?"
His arrogant grin caused me to smile and yank the car door open, throwing myself inside. The heat was blasting, and so was the radio. A familiar song played, although I couldn't recall the name.
It was quiet in the vehicle, the sound of steady air and music were the only things I could hear. I couldn't help but to play with my fingers, needing something to get me through the ride. Harry didn't seem to notice the awkwardness.
Suddenly my eye caught something from the rear-view mirror. I turned to the backseat and clutched the notebook sitting on it.
"Don't touch that," Harry abruptly pressed, hand grabbing at it fiercely.
He couldn't reach though, and had to watch me look at the contents inside. Although I didn't know why he was hiding it, what he had inside.
The first page had an image of a small pond with a few leaning trees beside it. The pond water was vividly drawn, the clear water just the lightest shade of grey. The trees were lazily resting in their roots, the green leaves hanging loosely over the water. The sky was a light blue, the most beautiful blue that I wish the sky really was. And the ground was the prettiest green, so fitting it just blended everything together.
The next page had a drawing of two people; a boy and a girl. The boy had brown locks that hung over his ears, gently tickling the beginning of his forehead. His eyes were a piercing shade of green and his lips were the color of a wild rose. He had the most delightful expression crossing his face, dimple popping and eyes crinkling at the ends. He could've been the happiest person in the world beside the woman, his hand interlocked with hers. The girl had a light shade of brown, nearly the color of yellow but just well enough to be a sandy color. Her expression remained the same as his, spilling over with excitement. The way she walked looked like she had a bounced in her step, hand a bit higher than the boy's and slightly larger in scale. Her eyes were a cold blue, yet heart-felt and suddenly kind. And in her hands was a pair of glasses, black and thin-framed. They hung from her fingertips like you'd hold a sheet of paper, delicate and loose. They seemed as if they could do anything, be anything they wanted. Just because they were together. It was so beautiful I couldn't take my eyes from it.
I hadn't realized the car had stopped until Harry snatched the book from me. I glanced up with my mouth slightly open, a look of fascination in-scripted on my face.
"You drew that?" I inquired in disbelief. He simply nodded. "It's... amazing."
He didn't thank me or anything, just opened his door and stomped his boots against the gravel. I trained my eyes on the house beside the car. It was yellow, very small, most likely one level. The shutters were green but a good kind of green, just as the front door was. Bushes were trimmed neatly, except for the occasional vine poking from the group.
Definitely not what I expected.
Suddenly I was being lugged from the leather seat and pulled against Harry, his hands tightly around my left arm. I sighed as he led me inside the house.
It immediately smelled like Harry. It was a weird thing, but every time I was near him I smelled this hospitable aroma and I fancied it. It reminded me of comfort.
I dropped my bag on the floor next to our feet, sliding from my shoes and taking in the place.
The walls were a soft blue color, like the sea. The sofa was pill-shaped and a darker color aqua, along with an identical loveseat and recliner. It attached to a massive dining room which reminded me of 'The Princess Diaries.' The walls were a tarnish color and pictures of family were strewn across every single wall. It was cute.
"Nice house," I complimented, taking a long, detailed look around.
"Well we aren't staying in here very long. Come on," he reattached our hands and pulled me across the hall. A hall I had no idea was there.
It was dim because of the lack of light bulbs but the sunlight made it gleam. He reached the end, to the farthest door from the right. His hands struggled to open the knob at first, but finally managed and dragged me into his bedroom.
It was shockingly neat. A dresser was on the far-side of the wall, dark and full of photo frames. The bed was opposite of it, so when you walk in it was on the same wall as your back was facing. It had a dark orange bedspread that did not match the white walls but made the duvets pop. And the one thing that pulled all of it together was the endless sprawl of drawings across the walls, lined up perfectly. They were all different and all looked just as flawless as the romantic one in his notebook.
Harry was sat on his bed, feet propped on the pillow as he lay there motionless. Then his head turned so his cheek was against the bed, "You gonna sit?"
I left my spot at the entrance to sit next to him. My eyes couldn't look away from the pictures, how meaningful and good they were. Eventually I faced him with an exhausted grin.
"You are an amazing artist, Harry," I breathed. "Genuinely."
Harry stared at me. Not like he was surprised, but in an adoring way. His lips had a slight curve to them that executed how attractive he really was, eyebrows curved so he looked quirky yet handsome.
"Thanks," he finally accepted a compliment and took a long exhale.
It was silent for a long while. We were both thinking deeply, mostly about what we were to talk about. So many things but neither of us wanted to start the conversation. I felt the rigidness.
"You saw the drawing in my notebook," he brusquely spoke.
"Didn't you know what it was?" he questioned softly, almost like it hurt him to release those words. I frowned and knitted my eyebrows together.
"A couple?" I mumbled, twirling my feet so they were sprawled over his legs.
He seemed relieved. It made me think and soon I had several theories in my head. The first had one thing in common; the drawing of me.
The lack of glasses threw me off. They were in her hands, not on her face. The girl was me, the cheerful girl with the beautiful face. I could never compare to it. However, that only meant one thing; Harry was the boy.
And it only took one more second to figure it out.
Harry Styles had a crush on me.
Thanks for reading! Haveanamazingsweetflawlessdazzlingcaptivatingday! x -Autumn