Sonata (Harry Styles FanFiction)

6. Who Is She?

Harry Styles

"Beer, man?" I turned eyeing the costumed kid next to me. It had taken me far longer than I'd wanted to admit to one, find out about this party and to two, track down the location. There were far too many going on on campus every night, but this was the only one with an excess of leather. From what I'd learned about Darien Grace, this appeared to be her scene.

I had to resist the urge to laugh as I thought of the way that she would react. Frat-Daddy had gone all out, black leather chaps and all. It was like he'd stepped right out of a strip club. He'd obviously spent a great deal of energy on a spray tan and bloody hell, was that baby oil? He'd actually doused himself in it. Christ, Ren would be having a field day.

Ren. She was the reason I was even at this fucking disease ridden house. What was it with that girl? Everything she did infuriated me. Oh the ways that I could silence that smart mouth. How many times had the image of her kneeling in front of me, my hand wound tightly into that vibrant amethyst hair, those rose petal lips wrapped around me haunted my fantasies?

Why hadn't she just done as she was told and dropped the class? It was like she had made it her life's mission to make mine a living hell. How had she managed to push me to my breaking point after knowing her less than a week. I've seen her twice, goddammit. This was ridiculous.

I should be back at my apartment grading their essays but no, I'm out at a fucking orgy hoping to fuck a student.

Fuck.

I seriously shouldn't be doing this. Professor McKenney would kill me if I fucked this up. I needed to leave. I was already crossing too many lines, being here was just tempting fate to fuck me over.

"This isn't a game, Harry. You need to keep your eyes open. It's not going to be a cakewalk. Not everyone is going to see what I do right away. People are going to rally against you. You have to prove them wrong," Professor McKenney regarded me sympathetically over a mug of steaming coffee.

"What exactly are you saying?" He'd been so insistent on my accepting his offer to guest lecture for the semester but now it was like he was trying to talk me out of it.

"I'm saying that you're young, very young. Not everyone is going to be keen on the idea of having a peer as a professor. Some are going to push you to and past your limits. You can't let her take over-."

"Her?"

"Darien Grace." A chill raced up my spine at the musical quality the name possessed. The way that Professor McKenney said it, it was as if I was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. The gleam in his eye was almost paternal but that could have just as easily been a trick of the light. I'd already met his only child, Jasmine. He'd told me that he and his partner John had met their match with the blonde alone and couldn't even imagine handling another child after her. I'd immediately been able to understand why that was. The girl was a bundle of energy and was anything but shy. If my mum had been there she would have blessed their souls for all that they'd had to put up with.

"Who is she?"

"A student of mine. She is very outspoken and willful. She will try to steamroll you. Don't let that happen. If you give her even an inch of leeway she will push you until she's in complete control.

Professor McKenney's warning kept echoing through my mind mixed in with a mantra of my own.

Stay away. Stay away. Stay away.

Outspoken was an understatement. Darien Grace had no filter. It was as if whatever came into that stubborn violet head, bypassed all reason and flew straight out her mouth. She had no fear of retribution and to be quite honest, I envied that. She was a puzzle to me and I'd be damned if I didn't figure her out. I knew that she was careless and that I was letting her dangerously close. I wanted her and that want was slowly transitioning into a need; the thought was terrifying.

Don't you dare fuck this up, Styles.

"Dude, do you want it or not?" Frat-Daddy barked, shoving the beer under my nose. I rolled my eyes but took it anyway, waiting till he'd stumbled off to set it aside. The music was hurting my ears and the smell of stale alcohol was making my stomach churn.

Doing my best to avoid the majority of the party, I skirted the edges, heading for the stairs. I had really only been to a few parties over the years. I hated them. College parties always meant alcohol and college kids didn't understand or even care to stick to their limits. Alcohol made people sloppy and I did my best to avoid it.

I let my eyes drift around the room below, watching the hormone crazed mob grind and dry hump each other in time to the music. This party was ridiculous. I'd heard about it two years ago but I'd never been unfortunate enough to come until now. Everywhere I looked I saw scant patches of leather and an abhorrent amount of skin. I hadn't even tried to dress up, I wasn't going to be there long enough for it to matter anyway. I'd opted instead for a dark button up and black jeans, drunks were sloppy and the dark hues would hide stains. The steroid pumped jock that had opened the door had eyed me for a minute or two before shrugging and chugging the beer in his hand. Obviously the universal concept of leather wasn't mandatory.

I had just turned to watch as a bleach blonde tried to stumble up the stairs when I felt the atmosphere in the room change. Immediately, my eyes snapped back toward the door and focused in on a familiar violet head.

"Fuck me," I breathed, my voice rasping in my throat. She made it hard to breathe. To hell with it all, I needed a fucking drink.