day the thirteenth
She read over the welcome packet for the Savannah College of Art and Design once again. It was all she could do once she got the glossy magazine in the mail. She couldn't wait to escape the dead-end town with the same people she'd seen since preschool. Wren could almost see herself with people who shared her mind and creativity. A soft knock on the door made a sigh escape her lips, what in the world did her mother want this time?
As she jumped off her bed, the floor panel beneath her feet squeaked. Her mother always said she'd get it fixed but it never was. Soon Wren would be gone and she'd never have to worry about the squeaky floor again. She padded over, the hardwood cold against her bare feet. Before opening the door, she pulled on some socks that she grabbed from the top her dresser.
When she finally turned the knob, a tiny squeak left her throat from the figure in the doorway. Despite the fact he wasn't even supposed to be in her hallway, she felt very self-conscious of her appearance. She pulled down her too small pastel pink t-shirt and ran trembling fingers through her tangled hair.
"You okay?" Harry raised an eyebrow, her mouth dry as she struggled to find the words to say.
"How did you get in my house?" She asked breathlessly, her heart still throttling in her chest.
"Your mum let me in," he responded simply as if it supplied the explanation to everything.
Wren didn't answer, or perhaps couldn't answer. She wondered why her mother of all people would let in a complete stranger and why she found herself somehow wanting him there.
"What did you tell her?" She couldn't get over the fact that her mother had let him in, an older boy with strange clothing and a sly smile. Her mother wouldn't even let boys that she knew from Wren's school in the house, why Harry?
"I told her we did bible study together and that you left this at my place," an amused look crossed his face as he presented a thick red book with Holy Bible spelt out in gold lettering.
The only thing her mother loved more than tightening her leash on Wren was God. As if her mother wasn't disappointed in her enough, Wren stopped going to church and it sealed the fate of their already broken relationship.
"How did you know my mom would..."
"What mother would deny a boy who simply wants to pray with her daughter and teach her the love of the holy spirit?" He said, holding up the bible with a grin.
"Where did you get that?" Wren asked, nodding at the bible. She instantly realized how dumb the question was, not even thinking that maybe Harry was in fact, Christian.
"Can I come inside?" Harry asked, not even answering her. The question startled Wren; no boy had ever been inside the room painted baby blue. She also couldn't help but wonder why Harry was here.
"You already are inside." She answered, giving a smug grin of her own.
"I mean your bedroom." Harry looked amused as if this was all a game to him. He leaned against the doorframe lazily, almost as if the house was his own.
"That was meant to be a sarcastic remark." She cleared her throat, taking a step back, where he took a subtle step forward. This action made him the first male to ever step foot in her room.
"Well, you need to work on your sarcasm, it doesn't suit you very well." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and swept his deep green eyes across the room. She suddenly felt exposed, embarrassed by how childish and outdated her room was.
"Well, if you're such an expert why don't you teach me the art of sarcasm." Wren felt childish joking around with him. She didn't know how old Harry was and she was too afraid to ask. His eyes left the wall and met hers.
"Nah," he responded, his repudiation of her proposal shocked her. Wren felt as if she'd just gotten rejected, which was a rather foolish thing to think.
"Why not?" Her lower lip was bit feverishly, making his gaze flick to her mouth for a heartbeat.
"Because I'm not sarcastic," he responded, with a tone of great lucidly. "I'm indie."
"You know, you can't use that as an excuse for everything." Wren found herself saying, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Harry quirked an eyebrow, taking another step closer.
"And why's that?" He asked softly.
"Because it's not an appropriate response." She racked her brain for a reason. Why couldn't he call things indie? Because it doesn't make any fucking sense?
"Then tell me love, what is an appropriate response?" His eyebrow quirked.
"Why are you here, Harry?"
"To give you a bible, obviously." He answered simply. "Something you still haven't taken."
Wren tentatively reached out and grabbed the book in his hand. She flipped it open, surprised to find it was an actual bible. Although, she didn't quite know what she expected. A secret note? An actual book?
"Don't get too excited." Harry joked, obviously noticing her disappointment.
"But why?" She asked, not knowing why he'd make a trip out just to give her a bible. Harry didn't answer, he simply looked outside her window at the puffy clouds rolling by. She could tell he was lying, Harry definitely didn't come by to drop off the gospel. So why was he here?
A long pause fell over them, the only sound was supplied by the ticking of her snoopy clock. His eyes travel down to her feet, making curiously flicker across Wren's features
"Your socks." Harry finally said, his eyes remaining locked on the rainbow-striped design.
"What about them?"
"They're so..." He began, causing her to groan and turn away. "Radical."
"What?" Wren turned, surprised by his unexpected answer.
"Indie." Harry corrected, a cheeky smile exposing his dimples. "Your socks are very indie."
**
what if you just like opened your bedroom door and boom,
it's harry styles.
