coachella | l.s

Chapter 1

The day was breezy as Harry walked though the halls of the UCLA alongside his best friend Niall. His long curly locks flew in the wind as he received gazes and winks from the girls he passed by. He smiled slightly at them and they would gasp a bit from his dimples. He shook his head and chuckled quietly, and continued on towards class.

He and Niall sat in their seats next to each other in English. He looked through his backpack for his notebook to begin writing the notes that covered the entire whiteboard. Mr. Peake always had them writing down the lesson for the day before he would begin his lecture, and then taking additional notes. It was the daily routine.

"Are you packed yet?" Niall asked him. He was scribbling furiously on his paper, as he never seemed to get all the notes on his paper before Mr. Peake would erase them off the board, and write more. Because of this, he always had to borrow Harry's notes to finish his' completely.

"Nope. I've been trying to finish up the rough draft for the essay." Harry liked being on top of all of his school work since he knew how hard he worked to get in this university, and he wasn't about to let his 4.0 GPA go to waste.

"You know we leave today right?"

"I know. I'll be ready by the time, don't worry." He glanced up at Mr. Peake who sat at his desk, reading the famous story of Romeo & Juliet. It was one of his favorites. Harry's eyes moved to the board, and continued to write the rest of the notes.

"You better be. This weekend's going to be a dog's bullox, for sure."

"Is that Irish slang that I don't know?"

Niall nodded his head, and grinned. Harry rolled his eyes and looked back down at his paper.

"Mind telling me what it means?"

"I'm pretty sure you can figure it out."

Harry stopped briefly and tapped the eraser of his pencil on his notebook. "Fun?" He guessed.

Niall shrugged shoulders. "I guess we'll go with that."

"I know what you mean, Ni. How is Coachella not going to be a dog's bullox," Harry said, trying mimic Niall's Irish accent. It didn't sound as good as Niall's original. He'd rather stay with his own accent.

"It's not going to be a dog's bullox if you haven't even began packing," Niall mentioned.

"I've started."

"But haven't finished. You have no argument, just get it done."

"And who are you to tell me what to do?" Harry challenged.

"I'm your best friend, I have the right," Niall responded, crossing his arms with a smirk.

Harry only chuckled and continued to finish the writing on the notes on the board. Right at the last sentence, Mr. Peake got up from his desk and began to erase the whiteboard clean. Groans and sighs filled the room, including next to him. Niall hadn't finished his notes, and he'd have to look at Harry's later.

"Listen, Harry. This weekend is going to be the best one of our entire lives. And I'm not going to let your dull overworked perfectionist arse ruin it for me."

Harry stared at him, and smiled. "Aw, you called me a perfectionist."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I'm taking it as one. But you don't have to be so rude, you know you love my arse."

"Little white lies I'm hearing," Niall sang quietly, putting his fingers in his ears.

Harry smacked his hands out his ears, and then went back to listening to Mr. Peake's lecture to write down more notes. Niall pouted and stuck out his lip, but Harry ignored him.