Love Always, Olive.

3

3. (Harry's POV)

"Hi." I said stupidly, I sounded like a fucking wanker.

"Hi." Olive replied, her blue eyes soaking into mine. Her voice rushed into my ears sounding even more wonderful this close. My breath caught in my throat as she turned her pixie like figure to me entirely. Her heart shaped face seemed to brighten while she looked me up and down, waiting to hear what I was going to say. Her dark brown hair was the color of Hershey Kisses. It fell below her shoulders and had a lustrous sheen in the dim school light. Her pale eyes were almond shaped and a striking misty blue in color. But it was her smile that was utterly mesmerizing. It wasn't exactly a smile, her lips turned up into something more like a smirk that read 'I know something you don't.' So that was how it was done, I thought: effortlessly, instinctively, and somehow utterly human. As I watched, I felt drawn to her, almost by some magnetic force.

"You don't mind if I take this locker?" I asked, gesturing to the locker beside her. Olive turned and raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow.

"You can take anything if you want it enough." She shrugged, leaning against hers.

"Great," I nodded slowly, "Um, I know you're new so everything here is probably a bit different."

"No. No, not really." Her 'I know something you don't know' smile reappeared, "I mean everyone is pretty predictable here. Even in school uniform, it's not difficult to distinguish the particular social groups."

I laughed and nodded, "Like how the music posse is made up of those guys with shoulder-length hair and guitar cases attached at their hips?"

Olive finally cracked a regular smile and added, "There's the goths who always set themselves apart with heavy eye makeup and spiky hairdos." Her finger pointed to the group in all black smoking on the park benches out the window.

"Artistic people who wear their uniforms with berets or hats and colorful scarves." Olive followed my long finger to see the the group of kids settled around a locked that I think belonged to Betty- a girl who loved wearing bright pink lipstick.

Olive's smile grew before it faded. She didn't even comment on the academic types who were easily identified; they wore pristine uniforms with no alterations and carried the official school backpack. They tended to walk with a missionary zeal, heads down, eager to reach the sanctity of the library- example: right now.

"So what group are you?" I asked her with a smile playing on my lips, realizing she was growing bored of this little I Spy game.

"What group are you?" She countered her eyes glinted deviously as she hopped around the question. I just laughed.

Olive sighed dramatically and finally answered, "I don't know what group I'm in. But, I'm bound to find out."

"Ah, well let me know when you do."

"You'll be the first." Her smirk was like fire, but I was more than willing to take the burn.

"In that case we should probably get to know each other."

"Why?" Her answer was short and snappy, a quick shift in moods. I stood there watching her, puzzled as to why she was turning me down so quickly. No one ever turned me down.

"I just figured I could help you find a group, maybe mine, after all I caught you staring at me this morning three times." I played it off cool. Nice one, Harry. I praised myself, silently cheering.

"I look at lots of people." She smirked, her lip doing that really hot tug up at the corner thing, "But that doesn't mean I get to know them." She got up and started walking away but then suddenly turned around a puzzled look on her face, "Do you want me to get to know you?"

She had taken a comment meant to be slick and turned it into something that a frazzled starstruck kid would say.  

"Dunno." I sighed, scratching the back of my head, "I wouldn't mind if you did."

Olive smiled slightly, showing a tad bit of teeth, but then her face went straight again. "The problem is, they want to get to know me too." She nodded towards Niall and Zayn who were a few meters away watching us like hawks. Fuck them.

"They're just wankers." I rolled my eyes, leaning closer to her.

"They're your best friends." She argued with a laugh. Her laugh was sweet- her eyes crinkle around the edges and she flashed all her teeth.

"OK," I nodded slowly, "So maybe they're my best friends."

"That makes it complicated, doesn't it?" Olive said, her voice came out very slow and rather sultry.

"I, um, I was hoping not." I frowned, "I'm Harry, by the way." I held out my hand in an attempt to shake hers, but she just eyed me up and down before walking back to her locker and opening it.

"Tell you what, Harry." She licked her lips and looked me up and down again. I was practically in. Come on. She gave me the 'I want to fuck you' look! Then she continued, "Fill in a form."

"What's this?" I asked, puzzled as she handed me a handwritten checklist.

"A list of things we're not allowed to do. I was gonna see if I could tick 'em all before the end of the day." She sighed. Fit and rebellious, just my type. "But this is much more interesting. First one to fill that out gets to, uh, get to know me." She clarified.

I stood up straighter and read this list up and down, smoking, alcohol, drugs, arson, porn, teacher abuse, sex in school, glue.

"And no cheating." She added cheekily as she began to walk away, "I'll need evidence."

"OK." I agreed. I would do this. I would do this and get to know this Olive Mackenzie.

"Cos I wouldn't fuck a cheat." Olive added with a laugh then rounded the corner.

"What?" I called to her. She spun around one final time, a glow surrounding her.

Her general state of pure confidence was almost enough to distract me from her face. This girl- if she could be called that, looking like she belonged at Uni, not boarding school- wore anything but the required uniform. A devilishly short purple-grey dress paired with mouthwatering fishnet tights covered her lean frame. Her neck adorned with at least seven golden or beaded necklaces, her wrists were bare, and her hair was still perfect as she lazily looked over her shoulder.

Her face was soft, but her eyes were sharp, and now appeared more gray in the shade.

She could be considered tan in comparison to everyone else I'd observed at school thus far, which is to say she had been in contact with the sun over holiday.

She was beautiful. And she was smiling at me.