Book 1 || Finding Prince Charming || Harry Styles

Chapter 29

His view.

The rest of the weekend seems to drag on. All I can think about is Cassidy and the distraught look on her face as she fled the hotel room. I feel uncomfortable inside. It's not a feeling I appreciate. I go home and start preparing for the next week by looking at the applications I've received for my assistant position. My mood changes as I read the applications again. Cassidy's name stands out bright and shining. It has to be my Cassie. I have another chance to be with her. I need to have one more night with her. And the next time I'm going to get her out of my system. I smile to myself as I think about having her in my bed again. Maybe I'll give her a couple of days to rock my world this time.

Her view.

"Catch you for lunch?" Anna makes a face as we pause outside the door to my class. "I better go or I'll be late."
"Sounds good." I smile. "Have a great day."
"You too." I watch her hurry off and breathe a sigh of relief.

We're finally back on the right track. I know as soon as Niall comes up to me at the restaurant that we're going to have trouble. Even though Anna and I are best friends, she's still ridiculously insecure and slightly envious of me. I understand why, but it hurts me whenever she starts ignoring me because guys pay more attention to me than her. And it's not that I'm so much more gorgeous than she is. In fact, I think that Anna's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever known, with her long black hair and intelligent hazel eyes. I feel very boring with my light brown hair and brown eyes. I'm of average height and build, and I know that Anna's slightly self-conscious because she's recently lost a lot of weight.

I slowly walk into the classroom, wanting to take in my surroundings. Everything's so different in London. The building itself is supposedly an old residence of some Lord and everything seems so grand.
"Cassidy," a voice calls out to me, and I look up and see Louis grinning at me.
I walk over to him slowly but quite happily. He looks even more handsome than I remember. His blue eyes shine at me, and he's wearing a plaid shirt that seems to emphasize that slight twinkles of brown.
"How are you?" He stands up as I reach his seat and point to the seat next to him. "Please."
"Thanks." I sit down and unbutton my jacket. "I'm good. How are you?"
"I'm tired." He yawns slightly. "Excuse me. I was up all night going through the textbook."
"Not the entire textbook?" I look at him in amazement. He doesn't look like he's a nerd.
"My brother will expect no less of me," he sighs. "And some of these paintings I should know already."
"Oh, have you taken the class already?"
"No, we own some of them. Well, I don't own any of them, but my family does."
"Your family owns some of them?" I grin at him. "What do you mean? Like prints?"
"No." He shakes his head. "I mean we have some Cezannes and Monets in our dining room."
"Dining room?" My eyes widen. "You have world-class paintings in your dining room?"
"Well, really it's the great hall, not the dining room." He laughs. "And so I should really be top of this class. I'm sure I'm the only one who has grown up with art in their homes to this extent."
"Hey," I chid him, "We have some great paintings of dogs playing poker in my house."
"Well now, I correct myself." He smiles back at me. "You should tell my brother that you also are an art connoisseur."
"Your brother? He's not going to be checking up with you after the class, is he?"
"No, not after the class." He laughs. "My brother teaches the class."
"Oh good God. That's awful." I rub his shoulder lightly. "I'm sorry about that."
"What can I say?" He leans towards me and looks directly into my eyes. "It's not going to be the most fun of classes for me."
"I bet." I swallow hard as I stare at him. He's so good-looking and there's something so familiar about his features.
When I look at him, I feel like I'm connecting with someone wise. I don't feel a sexual chemistry with him exactly, but there's something about him that intrigues me greatly.
"But such is life. No one ever said it was going to be fun."
"That's true." I nod in agreement. "That's very true."

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to my art history class," a loud accented voice calls out, and I feel each individual hair on my back stand up. "I hope you are all ready for a term of surprises."
I slowly turn to the front of the class and freeze as I see who the professor is. "Fuck," I mumble under my breath, waiting for him to recognize me.
"I am your professor. You may call me Harry."