𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! | harry styles

𝐈𝐗

HARRY'S patience with just about everything does not include waiting for our predetermined dates-a.k.a. my days off-to see me. I tease him to death for making the flimsiest excuses possible, the absolute flimsiest being a dire need for Hooters hot wings for dinner, but the truth is, I love his surprise visits.

After two days without an unplanned pop-in, I've come to appreciate the mad genius of Harry's courting methods. I miss him like crazy even though Friday's "happened to be walking by the library when you got out of class" was just a quick slideshow of the pictures from our date at the pier. A square of chocolate out of the whole bar is never enough, but it's so much better than no chocolate at all.

It's for the best, I tell myself, forcing my nose back into my accounting text. If I hadn't told Harry about my two midterms this week, he'd probably be distracting me right now-though, come to think of it, he has yet to drop in on me unannounced at home. Whether that would constitute crossing one of his invisible lines or because he's terrified of Mrs. Cope, I don't know, but the result is the same-no Harry.

I'm about three hours into my little pity party when the doorbell rings. I don't care if it's a Jehovah's Witness; anything is better than studying cost of goods sold. I fly down the steps, yelling, "I've got it, Mrs. C!"

I yank open the front door, revealing a completely startled Harry. "You didn't even ask who was there! What if I were a psycho serial killer?"

"Oh! You're right!" I swing the door shut in his face, giggling out loud as I peek out through the peephole at an even more shocked Harry.

He aims a nasty stink-eye toward the tiny glass circle, then raps the door with his knuckles.

"Who's therrrre?"

"Your friendly neighborhood psycho killer."

"Why didn't you say so? Come right in." I open the door again and he walks through before I can attempt to be funny again.

"You're a riot," he says, leaning in to kiss me even though he's not too happy with me. "I just stopped by to drop off a little care package."

I hadn't noticed the bright pink goody bag in his hands. As cheery as it is, the poor thing pales in comparison to Harry's face, even when he's attempting to give me dirty looks. I reach for the bag, and he snaps it away.

"Have you been good?"

"Of course! I've been holed up in my room for hours, slaving over hot accounting problems."

While he studies my face, deciding whether to believe me, the enticing smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafts into my nostrils.

"Oh my gosh! Did you bake cookies for me?"

He gives me a no-biggie shrug. "Maybe."

I step closer and plant a huge kiss on his lips. "You are an awesome boyfriend." He is the most awesome boyfriend anyone could ever have, but as soon as the word leaves my lips, I cringe and pray he won't be offended. The word "boyfriend" just feels way too frivolous to apply to a man like Harry. "Man-friend" would be more accurate, but who says that?

His warm chuckle fills my ears, which join my eyes, mouth, and nose as the happiest facial features on the planet. Okay, phew.

"You might want to taste the cookies before you make any sweeping declarations." He produces the bag, and I reach inside.

"True," I say, even though it's not. He already had me at hello, brightening this miserable day just by showing up. I play along, bringing the warm, soft cookie to my lips and taking the moaniest bite ever taken out of any cookie. "Obviously, keep your day job because you're good at taking pictures, too, but if you ever need a little income on the side, you could totally sell these puppies."