Harry Styles Imagines

Tutoring [part 2] +

A/N: not sure what some of you classify as smut, but I'm not in the mood to be yelled at, so warning. If ever there is a plus sign by the title there may be a bit of smut. I've never written smut before and there won't be a lot of it, in this book, in the future. Mostly in just a few stories. Not really sure of any of you read this, but if you did ... hi 🙋. All the love. K.
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"What are you doing tonight?" Anne asks me. It's the end of the school day and we are standing by my locker. I grab my homework and shove it into my bag.

"Oh um, Marcel is tutoring me," I answer with a blush.

Our little tutoring sessions have been going on for a month. The lesson after the first one, was just actual tutoring, him helping me with math. The one after that, we kissed a lot, and he touched me over my shirt. It was weird, and slightly awkward, but I kind of liked it.

The one after that one, the last one we had, last weekend, was pure tutoring. He said that that's what we're going to do each time, switch back and forth. Tonight is a lesson and I'm excited.

"Oh," she says, surprised. "You've been spending a lot of time with him."

"I can't fail math again," I groan, telling a half truth. "I'll kill someone if I do, and mum I'll ground me for life."

"Oh yeah," she snorts, making me glare at her. "Alright, well text me later then."

"Bye," I mutter as she walks away to find her brother for a ride home.

+

"Right on time," Marcel says with a smirk, opening the door wide.

He's standing in front of me in black skinny jeans and no shirt. His usually slicked back hair is a mess of curls on the bottom, but the top bit is pulled into a baby pony tail and his glasses are missing from their usual perch on his nose.

I gulp at the tattoos that litter his upper body. I've never seen them all, just the ones on his arms. They're so beautiful, and random. They make him look ten times hotter.

I walk in bashfully, and slip my shoes off at the door. I set my backpack down next to them as Marcel shuts the door. He starts walking to the kitchen, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor.

"Do you want a drink?" He calls to me, suggesting I follow him. I walk the direction he went, finding him with his head in the fridge, his bum in the air, looking sinful in those jeans. "Water? Beer? Apple juice?"

"Water's fine," I mumble. He chuckles and stands up straight, two bottles of water in his one hand.

"Why don't we go to my room and start a movie?" He suggests with a smirk. "Something to get you relaxed. You're so tense and jittery when you come over."

I blush and hide my face in my hands. He chuckles and then I feel him next to me. His lips land on my temple. His one hand, pulls one of mine from my face and he intertwines our fingers and drags me up the stairs.

I sit on his bed and make myself comfortable while he picks a movie. My t-shirt and jeans are making me kind of hot, but I pay it no mind and instead sip on my water. He puts in a movie, then takes a seat next to me, sitting close so our legs are touching.

"What did you pick?" I ask, taking a drink of my water.

"Love Actually," he sighs. "Ever seen it?"

I shake my head and he smirks. The movie starts and I'm quickly engrossed. It's pretty good, a cute story line. Marcel slips his arm around my waist and rubs his hand up and down my side.