the favor (a Harry Styles fanfic)

11. temptation

Harry's POV:

My hands find my face as I try to rub away the fatigue I am feeling from the last five hour's previous studying. Exams have always been my weakness- I'm absolute shit at test-taking- and the idea of having my third midterm this week leaves me feeling breathless as I quickly scurry from the silent section of the Athena Student Library. No matter how much studying I put into a test, I feel like I never do as well as I know I should have. My mind blanks, and it takes me at least fifteen minutes before I come back to normalcy, and then I'm forced to rush through the rest of the test.

I just pray I can get through these next two weeks without any major bumps in the road. I just have to set a certain time frame out for myself each night so I can sit down and just focus-

Fuck.

I inwardly smack myself as I remember my date with Mandy tonight. I'll have to clean my car, pick out decent clothing, (decent meaning won't make me look like absolute trash, or won't also make me look like a tool), wash up and style my hair so-

Wait. What am I getting so worked up about? Is this even a date?

We haven't exactly clarified what we are to each other, and I shouldn't be jumping to conclusions. For all I know, she might see me as that nice guy who gave her clean clothes and watched Doctor Who with her. She may not even find my physically attractive, (at least in the same way I find her), in which in that case, she would only want to see me, as most, a friend.

But then again, what if she does see me as more? I wonder if Mandy had ever even been out on an actual date with a guy before. She's told me she's only slept with two people, but she never said she's never dated anyone.

Am I her first? Will she be losing her dating virginity to me?

My palms begin to sweat instinctively and I have to physically stop myself, leaning down against the railing of the staircase leading to the student parking lot. I set my bag down and collapse onto the unclean concrete ground below. My head falls to my hands and I force myself to take some much needed deep breathes, attempting to stop the uncontrollable shaking and choking as I gasp for air. I can feel the heat from the sudden tears streaming down my cheeks. I force myself to find my inner breath, or ujjayi breathing, as I recall the lady in the yoga DVD referencing it this morning. Trying hard to clear my mind, to steady myself once again, I close my eyes and let the breath roll over me.

Why can't I be normal? Why am I so prone to panic attacks? I remember my therapist telling me that after the divorce, when I went through my first severe set of them, that I should consider finding another alternative for relieving stress, instead of burning myself like I had been doing at the time. He told me to do something positive, so the guilt of burning wouldn't make me feel that much worse, only encouraging the cycle.
That was when I joined my friend's band, and shifted my classical piano training skills to pop music, and became the main vocalist and pianist for the group. We would do small events together, such as weddings, sweet-sixteens, bar mitzvah, whatever we could find. And that helped for a while, until I graduated school and they boys all left for uni. I was suddenly alone again, feeling helpless, stuck up inside my bedroom with no way to relieve the pain. That's when I found yoga. After a bad fall while descending a flight of stairs while rushing out of class one day in uni, my doctor suggested that I do something light to not only heal my now injured knee, but to help deal with my stress. He saw that I would anger easily, snap quickly at people if my mood was sour enough and I wasn't getting my way, and he thought it would be best for my overall health to find something to calm my nerves.

He gave me a list of possible classes and health courses I could take, all which I hated the idea of. They ranged from football classes, to ballet. I mean, why would a boy want to do ballet? I'm all for gender equality, but to a certain extent. And besides, the idea of looking up a girl's skirt and having to avoid it? I would consider myself a pretty controlled man when it comes to sex, but that is one thing I wouldn't allow myself to endure, especially at such a young age. The mere thought of a girl was enough to turn me on at that age.
The only option on that damned list that didn't seem half bad, was yoga. He had written down a couple of classes nearby, as well as DVD's and online programs I could look into. I rushed to Amazon that night and ordered a couple of DVD's. I've been doing them ever since. That is why, as I continue to try to find myself again with the breathing technique I have learned, I can't help but feel frustrated as the overwhelming feeling still lingers. Usually, I would be past this by now. I wouldn't feel so aggravated.