rosalie || harry styles

[three] a name to a face

Ally|POV

Harry Styles.

Putting a name to his face seemed weirder than I expected, it made me accept the fact that he was real, that this was real. This morning all came rushing back and I felt myself choke on air as the walls of the seemingly innocent classroom started to close in around me..

"Oi! Ally? Earth to Ally! " Mia said waving her hand in front of my face frantically.

"Sorry..." I frowned

"Anyway, as I was saying" Mia continued whispering so Harry couldn't hear us,"It's pretty weird that he ended up in your Creative Writing class after everything like that's the worst jinx ever".

I just nodded, I couldn't actually be bothered to sum up any words that described my bad luck and my situation with Harry.

Harry Styles.

The words feel so foreign and again I'm hit with a pang of I don't know the hell what emotion forcing it's way through my exterior.

I quickly peaked behind me to find Harry's hooded eyes glaring at the back of my chair, his pen was clenched tightly in his fist looking as if it would snap at any moment. I couldn't help but noticing the large vein that popped out of his neck while he fumed silently, damn this boy is scary.

I turned my attention back to the whiteboard as Mrs Crawford started rambling on about how her holidays were and how she got to spend it with her whole family and they all ate lunch and blah blah blah. I tuned out. I couldn't take it anymore, I love Mrs Crawford to bits but I can't handle her stories, they're so cringe worthy.

Eventually and unfortunately I was snapped back to reality when Mrs Crawford started scribbling notes on the board about what we were studying, but my attention didn't stay there for long.

I mindlessly copied down the notes, bullet point after bullet point, something about poems I think.

"I kind of feel sorry for him you know?" Mia whispered.

"Why?"

"Because he made a pretty bad start to his first day, he's basically set up a bad judgement of himself from day one. I mean he must of moved for a reason it must suck that he's made a bad start."

I hadn't even thought of that. I hadn't even really tried to consider that maybe he's just struggling on new ground, I shouldn't really be acting like this, I'm overreacting.

Mia peered around curiously, "He's just like sitting there glaring at you, what's with him?" she turned back puzzled.

I just shrugged. I didn't want to ponder on it anymore, I needed to let it go.

~~~

The rest of the class followed in a boring fashion. We took more notes, mainly about all the main types of poems, their structure and purpose and I unfortunately had a curly haired, brooding boy glaring at me.

The bell rang.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding in as I collected my stuff and shoved it in my bag, my binder held tightly to my chest.

I couldn't help but to take a sneaky glance at Harry as my eyes darted behind me, I was just too curious.

Holy shit....

His page was covered in what seemed to be a mass of scribble, did someone like kill his pen or something? On closer inspection I found that in fact his pen hadn't died and the 'scribble' was in fact the same word written over and over again, covering his page top to bottom, overlapping each other, big and small. Rosalie.