Bombshell (Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter Three: Self Defense and Mysterious Notes

What I had originally set out to do, never really happened.

I had checked every corner of every (unlocked) room and closet ; Harry seemed to be nowhere in sight.

And after searching the men’s room, (all four) I was quite positive.

Yes. I did just go to that extreme.

Curiosity sprang from the back of my mind practically clawing at my skin.

Who is Harry Styles?

I wanted to know everything about him. Everything. Why did he show up all of a sudden?

How did he know Lincoln? 

Prying? Maybe. 

Realistic? Hell yes.

Controlling my curiosity was never my strong suite, and Harry Styles as a topic, well, It drove me insane.

I called it quits and headed towards the main entrance hoping for some settlement of my mind.

And a little workout at the gym.

Checking the clock, I debated whether or not I had time for Self Defense class, seeing the beaming red numbers read 5:30pm.

I sighed in defeat and exited the building.

My class wasn’t far from school, housed in a too-old brick building with paint chipping off of the over bearing doors.

But the inside was the total opposite.

The lobby, nicely furnished and clean, always put me at ease.

The lockers weren’t extravagant, but heavily used and bombarded with stuff.

The Gym was my favorite. The mats never neat, the air always warm with energy, and the room never quiet. There was always a constant buzz.

I absolutely loved it.

After putting my stuff in a locker I rushed to throw my hair up into a messy ponytail. I stopped at the mirrior noticing my reflection.

My face was flushed from the outside, and my breathing was fast. I really looked at myself. I was neither stunningly beautiful, nor unnattractive. I was simple, and didn’t wear makeup. My eyes were never changing color as some claim, staying the same hazel color I'd had since birth. My figure was petite, only having some muscle. I was normal.

Boring and unimpressive. Average. 

I left, not caring, or at least ignoring my appearance.

The ring was not about how you looked.

I found Ned, my personal trainer who had been good friends with my dad. Right behind him Lincoln, who has been going here even before me, was standing punching at a punching bag mercilessly.

Needless to say, Lincoln was beating the shit out of it, making me feel sorry even for the bag of stuff. He was muscular, and a figure of adrenaline and testosterone.  His dark black hair fell over just the side of his face, and his blue eyes were dark with determination.

He noticed I was staring and I locked eyes with him momentarily before looking towards Katalina, a Hispanic girl who was a couple years older trhan me.

She had just gotten here too, her smirk obvious and knowing, making it clear she'd seen our small exchange.

“What?” I question with my eyes, refraining from smirking back.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head, showing off her long dark hair pulled in a ponytail.

“Are you ready to train with Kat, or are you just going to stare at Lincoln all day?” Ned joked, twisting his body towards Lincoln, making Katalina smile with interest.