Carmen's POV

Twelve minutes. That's how long I've been standing in front of the boys' house building the courage to go inside or knock or do something. I don't even know if anyone is here. Louis' car is in the driveway so someone has to be here. I was hoping Harry would be...

I finally lift my hand to the wood and knock three times. Can a knock sound nervous? I hope not. No one answers and I almost turn around to leave, but then the door swings open.

"Carmen?"

Harry. And not Harry as I've always seen him, but Harry in sweatpants with no shirt on. Not even a little covered. All the tattoos I found so attractive the first night I met him are on full display and when my eyes finally go back up to his face I realize I've been staring and that he definitely knows it. His lips twitch up on one side and I hope my face isn't as red as it feels.

"What's up?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

"I know this is random, but I was hoping you could help me with stats." He raises his eyebrows in surprise, I assume, and it makes me nervous. This was a dumb idea. "If you're busy that's fine. I should have texted you or something. You know what, I'll just go-"

"No, no it's fine," he says, standing up again. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting you. Come on in."

"Thanks." I step past him and into the house. The TV is on and there's a bowl of popcorn on the table.

"Sorry, it's kind of a mess in here." he says, walking past me. He takes the remote and shuts off the television, but before the picture fades to black I see a familiar face.

"What were you watching? Was that 24?" I ask. He nods.

"Yeah, I saw an old episode on TV like two weeks ago and I started watching it from the beginning. Do you know it?"

"It's my favourite show," I admit, laughing a little. "My Dad and I always used to have marathons of it together. It's amazing, Jack Bauer is a legend."

"He does seem pretty good at what he does," he agrees. "I'm going to grab a shirt, I'll be right back."

I nod and watch him go. I wonder if he's the only one here. A tiny part of me hopes that we're alone, but that could be problematic at some point. Maybe. Fuck, I don't even know what's going on anymore. I haven't seen Harry since Sunday and I fucking kissed him on the cheek. Who does that? I felt like such a loser, but he looked pleased enough. I hope it made up for the way I've treated him.

He comes bouncing back down the steps, a black t-shirt pulled over his head.

"So...where should we sit?" he asks.

"Umm..doesn't matter. The couch is fine I guess." Is it? Maybe we should sit at the table...I'm not really sure. This is a lot more awkward than I thought it would be.

He walks to the couch and I follow, my bag brought down from my shoulders. He sits on one end and I sit in the middle of the other two cushions, so there's a bit of room between us. I'm not really sure how to act right now and he is giving no indication as to what he wants from me. I take out my textbook and notepad in a room full of complete silence.

"So, what are you having a hard time with?" he asks.

"It's just the last few weeks. The first month was easy enough, just central tendency and that kind of stuff, but now we're doing actual hypothesis testing and I have no idea what's going on."

He smiles and I open my textbook. "Which one are you doing?"

"The z-test, I think?" He laughs. "I honestly don't even know."

He lifts himself on his arms and sits himself right beside me, his arm against mine while he pulls the textbook so it's half on my leg and half on his. I'm not going to lie, all the proximity makes me a little jittery or nervous or something. How am I supposed to learn when the way he smells, which is amazing, makes my head fuzzy?

"This one is pretty basic," he says. "You have to turn the raw scores into z-scores and then you use this formula to test their significance in the study."

"Umm...what?"

He laughs gently, not mocking or cruel, just a little amusement. "Do you know how to make a score a z-score?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay." He hands me a pencil. "Start with that."

---

"There you go," he says patronizingly, patting my leg. "You got it."

"I did it once, Harry. We've been doing this for an hour and I got it right one time. I'm hopeless, there's no way I'm going to pass."

"The good news is that after this there's only four other tests you have to learn," he says. It's a weak attempt at comforting me at best.

"That is not good news."

He laughs. "I'll help you, don't worry. You'll be a pro by the end of the semester."

"I really appreciate this, Harry." I smile at him and lean my head back against the cushion. We have both slouched down a lot in the last hour, both of us with our feet up on the table.

"It's not a problem," he says. He turns his head towards me and smiles. "Wouldn't want you to fail and lose your eligibility for volleyball. I'm not sure what you'd do with yourself."

I laugh. "You're right, I really wouldn't know what to do."

"You're really incredible," he says. My eyes go wide. "At volleyball, I mean. Playing. It's great to watch."

I laugh nervously and fiddle with my pencil. Like I've said, I don't do well with compliments and someone like Harry with the little history we have makes me feel even more weird about it.

"You can say thank you," he says, nudging me gently with his elbow. "It doesn't mean you're saying you think you're amazing."

I laugh again and look over at him. "Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"Okay, let me try one more." I sigh and look down at my book again, trying to focus on the numbers but instead very much aware of Harry's leg against mine. I don't want to care. I don't want to admit that he makes me nervous, but I don't think there's any avoiding that any longer.

I can feel him watching me while I work on the next one and I feel like I have to prove to him that I'm not dumb. I don't think he thinks I'm stupid, but all the same something inside me wants him to be impressed. I love that he enjoyed watching me play the other day. I hope he comes to my games more often, because seeing him excited me and motivated me more than Liam does. Liam relaxes me, makes me eve. Harry watching me made me try harder. I wanted to impress him without even realizing it. When I saw how impressed he actually was after I realized that I went the extra mile because I wanted him to see it. And he did and it felt amazing.

"Ummm...." I look up at him and he smiles. "What do I do next again?"

He points to the formula and I hit my palm against my forehead. "Don't stress out, Carmen. You have another week to learn all of this, right?"

"Yeah, my midterm is a week from today."

"Then by next Thursday. you're going to be an expert."

"I don't know about that, but passing would be fantastic."

"Oh come on," he says, putting an arm around my shoulders. "You're going to do great."

Bright green eyes blaze into mine when I look at Harry. He seems a little alarmed at how close we are now, and to be honest I'm not completely comfortable either. Harry seems to be doing all these things he's comfortable with, probably things he's done a thousand times with other girls that he doesn't think twice about. With me, after he does them he seems to realize that I could react any way and he tries to take it back. But this time he doesn't.

"I'm kind of tired of stats," I say quietly. He nods and reaches across my lap to close my books.

"Then we should do something else," he says. He takes the textbook and notebook and drops them on the floor beside him, then resets himself next to me.

"Like what?" I ask nervously, my heart hammering. He opens his mouth to respond but then the front door opens and he whips around to see who it is, his arm removed from around me. My body relaxes a little, but I can't help the twinge of disappointment that I feel as a result.

"The car drives nice, Harold," I hear Louis say. Keys clang onto the counter.

"What the hell?" Harry exclaims. "You drove my car?"

"Mine's out of gas and we were hungry," he says simply. I sit up finally and turn around, Louis and Niall both standing in the entryway. They look at each other, then at Harry, then back at me.

"Carmen," Louis says, "What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey guys."

"What are you two up to?" Niall asks, crossing his arms and walking towards the back out of the couch. He looks at Harry again with a sly smile.

"Just studying," Harry says pointedly. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling; I know he's trying to tell Niall not to make a scene or embarrass him, but Niall seems to get a kick out of that.

"Oh yeah? Studying what?"

"Statistics," I say. Niall looks at Harry again.

"Looks like you're studying something else," he says.

"All right," Harry huffs, getting up from the couch. He walks around and spins Niall by his shoulders. "I'm sure you both of something to do. Upstairs. Away from us."

"Bye Carmen!" Niall shouts. I wave and Harry turns to Louis, who also walks to the stairs.

"Have fun you two," he says, walking out of sight as well. Harry covers his face with his hands and I just laugh quietly from the couch. He turns after a minute and runs his hand through his hair.

"Great friends, aren't they?" he asks. I just laugh. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure."

"What do you want?"

"Whatever you're having is fine."

I sit back against the couch again and push my book and my bag away from me so this doesn't feel so school-like. Harry comes back and hands me a can, and when I look at the label I see that it's beer. He laughs at my facial expression.

"I thought that might be funny."

"You have a weird sense of humour," I say as he takes it back. He sets it on the table and hands me a can of iced tea instead, and when he sits down he sits just as close as before. I don't want that to be exciting, but it still is.

"So, do you want to watch a movie or something?" he asks. He picks up the remote and turns on netflix. "We can watch one of those ridiculous Nathan Sparks movies you love."

"Nicholas. His name is Nicholas Sparks, how many times would you like me to tell you that?"

"It's so easy to get you going," he says smugly, smirking as he looks through the list. I narrow my eyes at him and for once I can't think of something clever to respond with. "So, which one?"

"We could watch 24 if you want," I suggest.

"No, I want to watch you cry again."

"Hey!" I whack his chest lightly and he laughs. "I did not cry last time."

"You did a little bit. I almost didn't notice, but your eyes were definitely leaking."

"Leaking?" I laugh. He nods and looks over at me. "You are so weird."

"I'm not the one that watches the saddest romance movies ever. Why are you trying to cry on purpose?" he asks. "It doesn't really make sense."

"That one," I suggest. "The Notebook."

"Is it any good?"

"You've honestly never heard of it? No girl has ever made you watch it?"

He shakes his head and sets the remote down while the move loads. "It's pretty hard for anyone to make me do something. I'm pretty manly that way."

I laugh and shake my head, his adorable smile letting me know that he's not as arrogant as he makes himself sound sometimes. It's a part of his charm I guess. He works that angle well.

"What?" he asks, his dimple distracting me. I shake my head and look at the screen.

"Nothing."

"I'll be right back, okay?"

I nod and watch him walk around the couch. I wish he would stop getting up, but whatever. I never planned on coming here to watch a movie, but I don't mind spending a little more time with Harry. I hear footsteps and turn to tell Harry it's starting, but Louis comes over instead and leans against the back of the couch with his forearms.

"Yes, Louis?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. He smiles.

"You two are getting quite...comfortable," he says. I roll my eyes. "No need to deny it, we aren't stupid. Plus, Harry talks about you a lot so one can only assume he'd take his chance."

"There's no chance," I retort. He laughs and I smile. "Well, maybe. But don't make it weird."

"Oh, it's not weird. It's fantastic."

"And why is that?"

"Because we actually like you," Louis says.

"It's cute how you say we."

He rolls his eyes. "Seriously, Harry has a habit of going out with the worst girls. more often than not they're annoying as hell."

I laugh. "Well we aren't dating, but it's good that I'm not annoying."

"Yeah. What are you watching?"

"Oh, it's-"

"Louis!" Harry exclaims. Louis and I both look at Harry and I bite by lip to keep from laughing again. "What are you doing?"

"I just came down for a drink, calm down."

Harry rolls his eyes and Louis winks at me before walking into the kitchen. Harry is now carrying a blanket in his hands. When he sits down he sets it over both our legs.

"Movies require blankets," he explains.

"Ah," I say, nodding my head. He slouches down next to me and puts his hands on top of the blanket. "It's soft."

"It's the best blanket ever."

"Oh, really? How do you test that theory?"

"Well, you don't. That's why no one can prove me wrong," he says proudly. I laugh and the proud smile that grows on his face makes my stomach flutter. Just a little.

"Well you missed the beginning," I tell him. "With the old people. Basically, an old man is reading a story to a lady with Alzheimer's."

"That's not predictable." He rolls his eyes. "Classic Nicholas."

I laugh and swat at his leg under the blanket. "Don't make fun."

"Sorry, sorry." He settles more into the couch, shrinking as low as I am with his shoulder overlapping mine. "Alright, I think I'm ready."

I just laugh and shush him so we can hear what's happening. I don't know what it is about this movie, but it's impossible not to like it. If you don't like The Notebook, you can't be my friend. That's a make or break, I think.

Part of the way though the movie I find myself staring at Harry's hands for some reason. I'm not sure when I started noticing hands or when that became something attractive about a person, but there's something about Harry's hands. First of all, they're huge. After that, I'm not sure how to describe them or how to explain why they're so nice, but they are.

"What's this?" I ask, picking up his left one. I lift it up a little and run my fingers over a scar that runs along the length of the side of his palm under his pinky finger. It's so faint that you can barely see it.

"That," he says with a sigh, "Is the result of having a sister."

"You have a sister?" I ask, looking at his face. He nods.

"Gemma. She's older than I am."

"How'd she give you this?"

"Well, she didn't really give it to me," he says. "We had this treehouse in our backyard when we were kids. She went up there with her friend one day and rolled up the ladder so I couldn't get up. So naturally, I tried everything. Eventually I took to climbing the tree and I almost made it, too. But then I slipped and my hand scraped against the end of a branch that had snapped, and I had a massive cut from it."

"That probably felt good," I say sarcastically. He laughs a little.

"Yeah, it was a good time. I had seven stitches and my mum made Gem be my servant for a week." He smiles. "It was quite fun."

"You tortured her didn't you?" I ask, laughing. He shrugs, a mischievous smile etched on his face.

"Torture is a strong word. I simply gave her what she deserved. At least hers only lasted a week, I have this hideous thing for life."

I look at his hand again, realizing that I'm still holding onto it. I slide my right hand under it. "It's not so bad. Hardly noticeable."

"You noticed," he says quietly. Something tells me he's not really self-concious about it at all, but he's taking pleasure in this.

"Only because-" I stop short and look over at him, his eyebrows raised to prompt me to finish the sentence. Only because I was staring.

"I guess I get to inspect your hands too," he says, lacing our fingers and bringing my hand towards his face. he looks all around it, two inches from his face. When he looks at the side of my wrist he asks what they're from.

"Volleyball," I explain. "From diving, sometimes I get like rug-burn kind of things from the floor. I have them on my knees and my hips too."

"Oh, well I have to look at those too," he says, reaching with his free hand under the blanket. I laugh and put my hand over his, his body leaning towards mine. "What? Just let me see." He's still got that mischevious grin.

"No," I laugh. His hand gets to my hip and I feel my skin burning where he touched me. "Harry!"

He laughs and retracts his hand. "Okay, okay fine." He sits back again and looks at the screen, and my eyes are drawn to our hands. They're still connected and resting on his stomach, his thumb moving lightly along the back of my hand. This feels quite middle-school, to be honest, but I love it. It's a simple gesture that tells me what I want to know but doesn't push too far. I guess he knows me better than I thought.

Notes

progress? cute harry :) i love it when he jokes. its adorbs.

sooo ive been paying more attentiont o my other story. first, because i get more readers on that one, and second because the beginning of this one is very important to me. i know its slow, but thats how i wanted it to be and so far its working just the way i want it to so im happy with it :) i hope you guys are too!

thanks so much for reading :) keep commenting, theyve been great so far :)

any suggestions? predictions??

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