*before anything, i'd like to mention that i've posted a picture of Rhiannon above (took me a few long tries to get it there, soz), and that i'm extremely grateful to Littlepinkbeast, harrystylesfanwoman, and GL_Fern for their votes :)*
"Hi, Diana."
"Hi, Harry. You know, you don't have to come over every time you walk in," the tan girl behind the gym's front desk sighs with a smile as he hands her his membership card. The scanning beep is slightly frightening beside her fluorescent teeth.
"Better to assure you I'm not some madman off the street looking to cause trouble in your gym, yeah? Besides, it's always nice to say hi," he tells her, and he's aware that his politeness is coming off as flirty.
"I know who you are," she laughs, her manicured fingers grazing his hand when she returns the card. "P.S., your annual pass needs to be renewed soon."
"Good thing I came over today, then," he says before Diana hums, her eyelashes (which she'd told Harry last week were extensions) fluttering.
"Any plans this weekend?"
"Still working on my lesson plan," he shrugs, pushing his hand into the pocket of his white shorts. "I'm giving them an exam soon, and I always feel so bad about putting them through that, so I'm trying to keep it easy with the info dump. What about you?"
"I'm heading back to Staten Island tomorrow. I'm going for my brother's wedding— dateless."
Harry smiles softly. "Wonderful— not the dateless part, though, unless you're happy about it," he says, to which she shakes her head.
"Ronnie, my ex, is going with his baby mama. Talk about embarrassing, showing up alone when your ex is going with the girl of his dreams," her eyes roll behind the big lashes.
"I'm sure you'll still have a good time. October weddings are always nice," he offers, a bit hurriedly at that because he's eager to work off the building energy in his chest.
Today has been a particularly normal day, save for the ever-present funk and the mental work out his first period gave him this morning as they got worked up over his astrological sign.
"You want to know exactly what lies ahead for your love life, but there is no sure way to tell. Be patient as you wait for your one true love, because there are signs at the start of the week that you may cross paths soon. The romantic forecast for the weekend is cloudy, but it only takes one ray of sunshine to light up your entire world. A smile can be illuminating," Madison read aloud, sat with her legs crisscrossed atop her usual desk and enthusiastic about teaching Harry for a change.
"Isn't it cool that we're both Aquarians, Mr. Styles? When were you born, anyway? I want to look at your birth chart," she'd grinned.
It took about fifteen minutes before he gained control over their curiosity (he patiently tried, attributing it to a pre-Friday buzz) and managed to squeeze in the entirety of his planned lecture on Classic Liberalism nonetheless.
Angelo skipped his sixth period class due to Steph's recurrent absence; her cute, geeky six-year-old ended up with strep, and Mr. G was particularly 'stank' this afternoon. Rather than grade papers, he opted to look through an anthology of Greek Myths he'd checked out from the library. He only rambled happily about his art history class while he walked Harry out of his classroom at the end the day.
"She's so fucking— sorry— cool, dude. She just sits on her desk and teaches us like it's a conversation— like you, except you're too cool to sit on your desk, you get me? She's already way better than dumb ass— sorry— Miss Martinez. Like, I didn't know the history of art was just as awesome as the history of the whole world, or better— sorry, no offense," he'd blabbered on, pausing to apologize every time Harry pursed his lips at Angelo's rising voice. He was still nervous about Monique catching them talking in an informal manner ('respect, and responsibility'), but entertained Angelo's personal mini-lesson on the Ancient Greeks' contribution to Western art happily.
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QUARTER-LIFE | HS
FanfictionHarry's always been very sure of himself and yet, he finds himself hitting a plateau. Quarter-life crises are supposed to be easy, right?