He's My Nerd (Harry Styles as Marcel fanfic)

Chapter 8

Marcel's POV

"So, um, you see X equals seven because the line above states that X is the square root of fourty nine." I said, pointing to the working with Rosalind's pencil.

"But it doesn't make sense!" She exclaimed. "Why is X the square root of fourty nine?"

"Because its the question. It's simple algebra; it says X is the square root of fourty nine, calculate the value of X. it's a simple one to introduce you to it."

"Ugh," she groaned. "This is so confusing!"

"You'll get there," I said to comfort her.

"I know it's an easy question, I just can't get my head round why there's letters."

"They're there for when you don't know a number. the unknown number is replaced with a letter term, and then you use the other numbers to work it out."

"Oh forget it." Rosalind closed her textbooks and put them on the table.

I watched her gather her things and head upstairs, but I couldn't help thinking about when she hugged me. She actually put her arms around me in a hug, a real hug. She put her arm around my shoulders and her head on my chest. It shocked me, but I liked it. It was a new sensation, a new feeling. I wrapped my arms around her and she relaxed into me. It was so crazy, all these new feelings she was giving me. She felt small and vulnerable in my arms but I loved having her close, having someone care for me. It probably wouldn't last, but I would definately enjoy it while I had the chance.

"Marcel?" She called.

"Yeah?" I replied, still nervous around her.

"Can you help me? I can't get this textbook back in my bag with only one hand. My other one still hurts."

"Uh, yeah, okay," I replied, making my way to the staircase. 

I was actually about to go into her room. I tried not to panic, but I suddenly felt even more nervous.

I carefully opened the door that said "Rosalind" in swirly writing on it and peered in. She was sat on her bed facing way from me but she even looked pretty from behind.

Her hair was piled up in a messy bun atop her head and a few wisps escaped and trailed down her neck. Her top clung to her sides perfectly and highlighted her petite feminine figure.

"Uh, hey," I mumbled.

"Hey!" She turned to beam at me. I melted. Seriously Marcel, what is wrong with you?

I took a second to familiarise myself with my surroundings.

The walls were pale pink and the carpet was a neutral sandy colour. There was a full length mirror on one wall and a desk beside it, heaped with make up and hair styling products. A fluffy pink rug lay on the floor beside her bed and her bedside cabinet was piled high with books. She had a huge wardrobe, and I could tell it was bursting with clothes as the doors weren't properly shut. There were shoes everywhere and more perfume bottles than I could ever have imagined anywhere. It was like an alien planet. A pink, fluffy, sparkly alien planet that smelled of a fragrance shop.

"Here," Rosalind handed me a rather small handbag, and a particularly large textbook.

"Erm, Rosalind, isn't this bag a bit small and impractical?" I scrunched my eyebrows together.

"It's called fashion, Marcel. And these cute bags are highly fashionable."

I rolled my eyes. "How do you normally get this in here?" I waved the textbook in her face.

"With a lot of force, effort and determination. Though I lack force with only one hand."

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes jokingly again and began squeezing the book into her ridiculous schoolbag. Eventually the zip closed and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Hallelujah."

"Now I need my PE kit in there too." Rosalind stated.

I playfully hurled the bag at her. "Do it yourself. I'm having no more of that ridiculous bag."

"Whoa, where did this guy come from? Cheeky Marcel, eh?"

I blushed.

"Hey, I didn't say I didn't like it," She winked.

And so I blushed some more.

Rosalind's POV

Marcel's face was so red. I found it so amusing to make him blush.

It was particularly funny because I knew how shy and awkward he was and that he would be stood there in a complete panic attack over something silly.

He was just standing in front of me blushing. "Relax," I smiled at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"For?"

"Being so weird... I can't be much fun. I'm not like your real friends."

"Will you just shut up and come here?" I laughed, patting the bed beside me.

Marcel shuffled over and carefully perched on the far end of my bed.

"Here..." I pointed at the space beside me. He slowly shuffled up towards me.

I grinned.

"What?" he asked.

"You are not weird and I bet you can be fun. We're having fun now, right?"

"I don't think almost burning your hand off is very fun."

I frowned. "Well no, but the rest of the day has been fun..." I smiled a little, hoping to get a reaction.

Marcel smiled back at me, warmth glowing in his eyes.

That was an improvement.

"I like smiley Marcel best. You should smile more." I told him.

"A smile is another reason to hurt me." He whispered, looking down.

"Well not for me it's not. And god dammit Marcel, don't do that."

"Do what?" He sounded very puzzled.

"Squint your eyes at the floor like that. I can't concentrate on what I'm saying when you're smiling down at the floor with those mysterious eyes."

"Why?"

"It's a distraction, a damn sexy distraction. Stop it! You're doing it again."

Marcel just smiled up at me.

And I realised what I said.

Did... did I just call marcel sexy?

I blinked a few times.

Yes. apparently I did.

And he was holding back that ridiculous smirk that hormonal boys get when they think a girl likes them.

"You can wipe that look of your face, Mister." I warned.

"Sorry," Marcel chuckled.

I just shook my head.

What the hell was going on?

A/N

Hello

In the spirit of remembrance day (yesterday) I would like to ask that you all pause here to remember the brave men, women and all the soldiers who have fought in war and died for us. We would not be where we are today without them, and they deserve recognition for the incredibly dangerous work they still endure every day. It doesn't matter where you're from it the world, your country will have soldiers and they deserve recognition. They die for us, every day, so the least we can do is pause, think, say thank you.

Great respect,

Lots of love,

Katie xx