losing sleep » h.s.

four

I was almost asleep, leaning my head on Harry's shoulder as he babbled on and on of different stories about his and Niall's friendship. My eyelids felt heavier by every minute that went and his voice slowly started to fade.

"Natalie?" He softly spoke.

"Yeah?" I whispered, trying make myself not to fall asleep.

"Do many people only think of me as the stuck up head captain of the basketball team?"

The question almost took me out of my sleeping trance. I leaned up, supporting myself on my elbow and gave him a curious look. "What do you mean?"

"I don't really know what I mean. Sometimes I just wonder what people outside my group like you think of me," he said.

"If I'm going to be honest, I never had an opinion about you. To me, you were just the boy in my French class," I said, flashing a little smile.

"Oh."

"I think about all people at school like that if that's to any consolation."

"You don't seem to obsessed with who's popular and who's not," he smiled, looking down on me.

"I don't have time to obsess with stupid classification of social groups that divide us if I want to keep up with my good grades and part time job," I chuckled.

"I get you- I mean, my grades can always get a little better, but I'm alright for now," he shrugged.

I laid down on my back again, blowing out pieces of hair that fell in front of my face. He delicately tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and gave me a slightly smile.

"I don't think you're a stuck up head captain of the basketball team. These prejudices are just some stupid things."

"What?"

"I think people expect you to be a stuck up jerk since you are the team captain. Same goes to Niall and Maya. You got the looks, I'm not gonna lie, but you guys are nice people," I told him.

"Thanks," his smile brightened, his dimples became visible. "You're not too bad either."

And then there was a small silence before I decided to speak up. 

"... So how's French?" I mentally face palmed myself as soon as the words escaped my mouth. I was so awkward when it came to small talk.

"French? Really?" He laughed.

"I suck at small talk, I'm sorry."

"French is alright, I guess. I like Mrs. Heathers, she is like a grandma, but I am struggling with the pronunciation," he frowned.

"Pronunciation is the worst, but the language is sexy."

"Very true," he smirked. "Hey, do you wanna know what the first thing I learned in French?"

"Yeah, tell me," I leaned up on my elbow again, meeting his gaze.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?" He said with a playful grin.

"Would you like to sleep with me?" I laughed. "Who taught you that?"

"My sister, Gemma. She likes to mess with me. I was a freshman, I had no idea," he chuckled.

"To answer your question; Pardon, je ne me couche pas avec toi."

He gasped, putting his hand in his chest, pretending to be hurt. "Ouch, that hurt."

"Calm down, not that kind of sleep with you," I mocked him.

"You're lucky that you get to sleep with me," he said proudly.