𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! | harry styles

𝐈𝐕

LIFE is basically one big blur until my day off on Wednesday. Managing two ridiculously difficult courses on top of working thirty hours a week tends to speed up time, but that's okay-it puts me closer to my associate's degree, that moment I can truly celebrate my accomplishment and know I got here on my own. I force my eyeballs into my Intro to Finance book. I can't decide if this is better or worse than Cost Accounting, but at least some of these terms are familiar. I feel like I'm going through the motions with my homework. My mind keeps wandering to its new happy place-Harry.

True to his word, Harry has stayed away from Hooters-not that I would have minded his presence one little bit-and hasn't attempted another phone conversation. I'd expected no less from the man, once he'd given his word. What surprises me about Harry over the next four days is his serious texting game. He's sweet and flirty, but there's more to it than that. He cares about my thoughts and opinions and my safety, and he shares just enough about himself to keep me hungry for more.

He's dropped a few hints about his profession: not a typical nine-to-five; he's his own boss; it's something he's passionate about. Earlier this afternoon when I prodded him for details, he texted me: "Let's see how the night goes..." The man knows how to tease, all right, but tonight is the Harry at the end of my tunnel. Oh wow, that sounded dirty.

He won't say where we are going, but assures me jeans will be appropriate. I pair my dressiest jeans with a long tunic top, dangle earrings, and my fringy, brown suede boots. It's an interesting reversal to dress more conservatively for a date than I do for work. I barely touch my face with makeup and leave my hair to its own devices-it falls long and wavy halfway down my back. Flirty but not overtly sexy, youthful but not too young for him, I hope.

I head downstairs with plenty of time to spare. Harry would never keep a lady waiting, and I intend to show him the same courtesy. My housemate looks up from her dinner.

"Well, don't you look pretty!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Cope. You can just leave the dishes. I'll take care of them when I get home."

She waves my offer away. "Don't be silly. What time is your gentleman caller arriving?"

"He should be here in about fifteen minutes. He's looking forward to meeting you."

In fact, Harry had insisted on it after I told him about Mrs. Cope. Two years ago, I'd bombed out of USF for good, and my parents had stuck to their guns-no more allowance. I was tending bar five nights a week, but my savings dried up over the next six months, and my roommates were too stretched to cover my share of the rent on top of their own. I was literally twenty-four hours away from moving back home with my parents when I happened to see a new posting on Craigslist that looked way too good to be true:

HOUSEMATE WANTED FOR ELDERLY WOMAN.
FREE ROOM & BOARD IN EXCH FOR GROCERY SHOPPING,
FOOD PREP, LIGHT HOUSEKEEPING AND MAINTENANCE.
NON-SMOKER, NO LOUD MUSIC, NO PARTIES, NO DRUGS.

I answered the ad though my cooking repertoire at the time consisted of ramen and grilled cheese. I was more than ready to leave the parties behind, so that part was the least of my challenges. The biggest turned out to be Mrs. Cope, herself.

Not that she wasn't perfectly warm and lovable-because she was, right off the bat-but she couldn't seem to accept the idea that a "young woman with my looks would want to hole herself up with some old lady in the 'burbs." She'd lost her husband after a long, terrible illness. Her remaining family-two sons on the east coast-visited dutifully a few times a year, but Mrs. Cope didn't want to live alone. She also didn't want to be driven out of her home.

I managed to convince her to give me a chance, and we celebrated the night I moved in with a couple of filets I threw on the grill (after replaying the YouTube video until I had the instructions committed to memory), a baked potato we split down the middle, and the best Caesar salad I ever made. Mrs. Cope was thrilled. I was determined. She laid out her expectations, and I met every one. Basically, Mrs. Cope and I saved each other.