Harry Styles, no matter how astounded he was by my question, agreed to date me. Even more, he said I could be his girlfriend, saying this with his lop-sided grin. I nodded in agreement, asking to shake on it.

When school came again on Monday, I was welcomed with warm smiles, knowing smiles, by people I recognized. Even at lunch, Harry made our relationship public by spending his lunchtime with me, instead of his friends.

I had no clue about what to do.

I felt his friends’ eyes intent on us as Harry and I sat cross-legged on the moss-patched ground. I set my sandwich down on the crook of my leg, balancing it there as I let my eyes fall downcast on my lap.

With cheeks colouring, I mulled over some possible moves I could put on. Harry sat innocently beside me, eating some type of lunch I couldn’t identify at the moment. I casually shifted closer to him, ignoring the sandwich that now toppled over and fell to the ground.

Casually moving my arm up, I said, “Oh, look, a shooting star.”

I pointed at sky, smoothly letting my arm wave across the above horizon until I reached Harry’s shoulder, wrapping my hands around there ever-so-casually.

The “oh-look-a-shooting-star-no-I’m-just-kidding-I’m-just-finding-an-excuse-to-wrap-my-arms-around-you-actually” move proved to be quite awkward, seeing as I didn’t know whether to let my arm fall or let it stay there for a while.

Trying to hide a grin, Harry decided to play along. He said, “It’s gorgeous.”

He shrugged off my arm and wrapped his around my shoulder instead. I whispered, “Oh, goodness, I’m being awkward, aren’t I?”

Harry’s dimples showed as he leaned down, pecked my cheek, and said, “No, stay that way, love.”

That was when I realized that Harry Styles might have truly liked me. But did I do something about it? No, because I was a hormone-lacking, handsome-challenged girl.



In my last period class, I was in deep sleep, head buried in my arms on top of my desk. Then a poke tore me from my nap.

Raising my head to the sight of an irritated teacher, I smiled and mumbled, "Good morning, sunshine."

My art teacher was shaking her head. She reprimanded, "Next time, I'm not gonna let you off the hook, Ms. Morel." She had an American/Canadian accent, unlike the remainder of my teachers.

I yawned, smiling still, "Sorry. I just find art class so beautiful that even my eyes had to close themselves from being blinded by the beauty of it all."

My art teacher, who I still didn't know the name of, said, "Mhm. Detention next time indeed, Ms. Morel."

"You love me that much?" I faked a giggle, pretending to gush about it. "Oh! I'm so flattered!"

I grinned all the way to the doorway, skipping and talking like Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz". I grinned, that was, until I stopped on my tracks in front of a blinking Harry.

"Hi," I said, peering up at him in curiosity. "Can I help you with something?"

He took my backpack from my grasp and carried it instead, putting an arm around my shoulders as we began walking. "I want you to meet my mom, properly."

I tilted my head to get a better view of his eyes, which were dim at the moment. "Sounds... interesting..."

"She won't be angry, I promise." He smirked. "We're innocent children."

I smiled weakly, almost wincing. "At least one of us is."

As I walked slightly faster than him, he was left behind me, trying to catch up and saying, "Wait, which one of us?"



I got a chance to meet Gemma Styles, Mrs. Styles and Harry's step-father. They were truly wonderful people, and it showed on the broad smiles on their faces. Their eyes were twinkling, too, which I assumed was a good thing. After all, Harry didn't even tell them that he and I were dating, but they seemed to have had a way of knowing without Harry announcing it.

Then Harry started leading me to their garage, where they treasured their motorcycles.

"They're real beauties," he said as he patted one of them.

I shifted around cautiously.

"... we're not gonna ride them, are we?" I bit my lip.

Harry glanced at me as if I was mad. "Of course we are."

I backed away. "But I don't know know how to—"

He was stepping closer to me, taking my hand, "I'll teach you. Do you trust me?"

"No," I blurted straight out, then tried to bite back my words. I hadn't meant to sound so rude...

"You'll have to."

He grabbed me by the waist and flung me over his shoulders. I cried in protest, but it was of no use. Seating me down on the dark leather seat of the vehicle, he kept his hands on my waist, as if I would fall if he let go.

"You put your hands here," he said, guiding my thin fingers to the rubbery grips of the bike.

I gasped softly, sarcastically, "No, really?"

He glimpsed at me. "Have you ever ridden a bicycle?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Well, then, you'll get used to this. But this will be slightly faster. Now, just..."

He taught me the basics of how to operate the vehicle, which was how to clutch on the brakes when times because desperate and to start the vehicle by stomping on the foot control. I nodded and blinked as new information filtered through my head. I was ready to start the bike in no time.

"You can do it," Harry whispered into my ear as he placed a helmet on my head.

I nodded, baring a grin. "Thank you."

For the three times that I made my attempts, I fell to the ground, but received no serious injuries, just little scratches and bruises. Some grimes also stained my clothing, but nothing too serious.

Harry was so nice as to help me up in each of those times and encouraged me further to ride it.

After a while, Harry decided that I've had enough practice for the day and wanted to show me around town. He stuffed on a helmet, straddled the bike and offered a hand with an assuring smile.

We drove around the town, probed through some corners and alleys that I hadn't seen in my few months' time in Mandeville. It was a wonderful ride, until I noticed that the trip was getting faster and faster.

My clasp around Harry's waistline had gotten tighter, and I curled my fingers in fear. The air was a cold blast against my face, and I panicked. "Oh, God, too fast! Too fast!"

I pounded on Harry's back. But Harry laughed aloud.

"That's what she said!" he shouted with a huge grin.

"Slow down, curly!" I yelled desperately. "Just, please!"

Once he slowed down and soon halted, I panted, trying to steady my trembling hands. "I'm not too tolerant of speed, as you can probably tell," I told Harry apologetically. "I also needed to adjust my bra straps 'cause they were falling down."

Harry shook his head, clapped and laughed simultaneously. "Best day ever."



I scrunched my key into the key hole and opened the door, revealing my mom and aunt inside.

My mom dropped the cupcake she was eating, letting it fall onto the table. She ran to me.

"Rose! Who raped you?!" She was very serious, too.

"... what?" I croaked.

"Your... arms! They're scratched and bruised up!"

"Oh yeah," I grinned. "Fun day today, mom. I was with Harry."

"Good Lord, what did the boy do to you? Actually, I should be asking about what you tried to do to him."

I smiled proudly. "I'm dating him, mom."

My momma's expression was a mixture of happiness, tearfulness and uncontrollable emotions. "No mashed potatoes today, my amazing daughter."

I hadn't realized how much pleasure it gave me to see my mom and aunt this ecstatic about the simple news. I felt so proud, warm and fuzzy inside, a feeling almost equivalent to knowing I had won the lottery.

However, I also felt something else knotting in my stomach—something that made me feel queasy. I ignored it.