One Direction School Preference Series

19. First I Love You's 4/5th

          

First I Love You's

          

Harry

"Your voice really sucks, Harry." You laughed. "Just stop."

He looked at you disgusted. "You try singing this." He held out the operatic sheet music to you.

It was your turn to look appalled as you pulled back from the offending sheet music. "I want nothing to do with that. Keep your shitty music to yourself." You looked thoughtful for a moment. "And keep your shitty mouth shut around me when you're practicing it."

He pouts at you and puts the music away in a hard leather folder. "Why are you so mean to me?"

"Excuse me, who was the one that told the choir that I needed private lessons? Me? Who told my classmates that my voice was taking on the tone of a dying hippo?" You grit your teeth at the memory. Louis and Niall had continuously teased you about if for the following day and you could still feel the giggles of superiority from Harry's fangirls.

He shrugged, "You do lately."

"Whose fault is that! You've got me practicing so much that I'm getting horse."

He waves you off. "If you want to pursue music in college. I took voice lessons as well. Isn't that right, Simon?" He affectionately asked the cat, purring quietly in your lap.

"How would he know? He wasn't alive. I think you took voice lessons because your weren't as talented as I am. And you could have told me this outside of class!" You grumbled the last bit unhappily.

"I could have. But you were acting cocky again. Someone has to make sure your pretty head doesn't get to big."

You let your face drop into a blank expression and sweetly petted the kitten. "Harry?"

"Yes," He drew out the 's' unsure of what you were going to say next.

"You said that your file on the class said that I was a problem student, and that I should be left alone."

He hummed as he walked over to his shelf and placed the folder on it. "I did."

"Do you know why?" You play with your fingers and look up at him.

"Because your bratty and have a problem with authority."

You smiled down at the cat as sweetly as you could. "It's because my daddy paid for the school to be built. I've got the principle in my pocket along with every other teacher." Your voice was soft, teasing.

"I'm not getting paid to teach your class, or sit in for your study hall. So, that really doesn't affect me." He chuckled as your mouth dropped to the ground. "I mean, don't get me wrong, those are some impressive connections. But, they don't affect me."

"It's because you're not even a real teacher." You dead pan.

That was what finally got a reaction. "I will be a real teacher!" He raged. "I'm in college! I'm studying music education. I'm older than you, damn it! You need to respect me!"

"You're still a child!" You yelled back but without the heat his voice contained. You loved to egg him on, to tease him. If he could put you in your place in class then you could do the same.

"I am 20!" He actually stopped his foot. It was one of the most adorable things you had seen.

Simon leapt from your lap and to the floor before running off to another room. "You scared Simon!"

He groaned and tossed his hands into the air. "You make me nuts. You do it on purpose too. Because you're a bratty little brat."

"A bratty little brat," you laugh out. "Don't you have anything better to insult me with?"

"You're stubborn, and spoiled, and rude." His voice was quickly losing heat as he settled down.

"And you love it." You sung the words teasingly. And you would bet, no matter what he said, that he really did.

"I love you, but I don't love your attitude."

"Wait, what?" You ask him wide eyed.

His pupils dilate. "What?" He mimics back.

"Say that again, Harry." You commanded.

"I don't love your attitude."

"The first part, Harry."

"I don't want to." He crosses his arms over his chest, staring down at you.

"The first part, Harry!" Your voice doesn't raise but it does become more forceful.

"I'm not going to!"

"You're such a child!"

"Says the high school student."

"I'm two years younger than you!"

He childishly sticks his tongue out at you.

You sniffle, going for another tactic. "I just, I just don't understand why you don't want to say it." You wipe at your eyes as fake tears fill them. "I don't understand."

"I don't understand how someone can be so good at fake crying." He admits while taking your face between his hands and curiously looking at the tears. "They look so real, your expression is so real. Is that how you became so spoiled? Use the tears every time someone tells you no? Can you teach me?"

Your eye brows draw together in a grimace and you push him away. "You're impossible. Why won't you admit you love me?"

"Because you won't say you love me."

"It's your job to say it first. You're the guy."

"Now that's sexist."

"Your face is sexist."

You're insults flew back and forth for several minutes. You exhausted every line you had. In all honesty, you loved 'fighting' with Harry. Your bickering's always lacked heat and were more for teasing each other and for the sake of being playful.

"Let's both just admit to not admitting that we love each other then." You concede. You'd fully run out of lines and were exhausted from trying to make new ones.

He cocks his head to the side and widens his eyes innocently. "Well that's not true. I do love you. And I know for a fact you love me."

"You couldn't have just said that 10 minutes ago,?!" And again the bickering picked up.