the favor (a Harry Styles fanfic)

5. fear of fish

Mandy's POV:

There's a soft knock on the door at seven ten. Harry is twenty minutes early.

Should I let him in?

Rushing to pull my jeans up my legs, I swing open the door, my comb still stuck between my teeth as I am welcomed by a very suave Harry. He's wearing a baby-blue, short sleeved button-up, (with the top buttons undone- I'm inwardly swooning), a pair of black skinny jeans, a black fedora with a red band wrapped around the base, and those signature leather boots.

He looks stunning. Even with the kneecaps of his jeans completely torn.

Meanwhile, all I'm wearing are my best pair of skinny jeans, (which I got from Forever 21, so you clearly you know I'm not exactly wealthy), a loose, creme, baby t-shirt with a black long sleeved shirt underneath, and a olive-green jean vest over it that my step-sister gave me. My hair isn't very anything special, lying flat against my shoulders. I was planning on trying to curl it, but then Harry showed up. My five year-old converse don't add to the beauty, either.

Next to Harry, I'll be mistaken for homeless stalker that wants to try to speak to him. He looks like a model, and I look like, well- poor.

"Nice digs, Amanda." Harry greets as he takes the spot atop my raised twin bed. He folds his long legs, crosses them, and allows his hands to fold neatly atop his knee.

"My name isn't Amanda." I state as I venture back into my closet to make myself more presentable.

"What is it then? And, what are you looking for in there?"

"Anything but this." I mumble under my breath, hoping Harry doesn't hear me. Unfortunately, he doesn't skip a beat.

"You look lovely." Harry tells me and when I turn to glare back at him, his wide grin makes me regret the impulse.

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better. You said seven-thirty, and it's only seven-thirteen. I can pick out something better."

"I'm not lying. To me, at least, you truthfully look very appealing, and besides, it's a sushi place. It's not exactly upscale. Yes, it's four-and-a-half-star, but it's very chill. I'm friends with the owner. You're fine."

Friends with the owner? Damn...

"You really know how to court a girl when you want to." I sarcastically remark, and then Harry's brow rises.

"I wasn't aware I was courting anyone. I thought this was a friendly, 'thank you' dinner."

And then like clock work, I am praying that the foundation that I used is covering up my flushing face. This isn't a date?

"But if that's what you want from me, surely I can work something out. Would you like this to be more than a friendly 'thank you' dinner?, Amanda?" Harry smirks and I look down at my sweaty palms.

"I don't know."

"Well come up with an answer soon, because if that's what you want, I can try to make it happen. I've been told that I'm good with the ladies." Harry's brows wiggle and I roll my eyes.

"You don't think I am?" Harry mocks offence.

"Maybe we should keep it to a friendly dinner. Your flirting is horrendous."

Harry laughs out loud and I spin around, grinning to myself as I search for my purse. I suddenly feel embarrassed as I clamber through the cluttered floors of my dorm room. My dorm mate is rarely here, as she seems to spend every night with her boyfriend in his dorm. So because of that, it is not like I can blame the mess on her. Her side of the room is completely barren, except for the empty hamper in the corner of her closet. All of the dirty clothing and food wrappers are mine, and I wouldn't be surprised if Harry is gazing at me with disgust.