chronic → [styles]

tuesday

Harry didn't want to be here. Library's weren't his thing. Neither was school work; but 80% of his semester grade was counting on useless facts about The Beatles. And at this point, he really wishes he'd gotten into old bands instead of death core.

Harry liked noise. He liked noise a lot. Noise silenced his thoughts that he often spent too much time pondering on in the early hours of the day.

The tall boy sat down.

"librarian girl," he called to the woman that sat behind an old, wooden desk that curled around her. "hey, you, lady," Harry hissed.

Her head shot up.

She was a pale girl. Lighter than Harry had seen in his life. She had dark eyes and her limp hair was tied up in a bun by a white ribbon.

Harry decided she was cute.

Not hot, like his girlfriend. But cute.

Definitely cute.

He stuck out his lengthy index finger and motioned her over. He smirked inwardly as she scurried over quickly, obeying his command.

Harry had a thing with submission.

(He tied his girlfriend up to the bed once. But if you'd ask him, he'd deny it in a minute.)

Harry's eyes widened when she spoke. Firmly and deep. For a girl, he thought. "Is there anything you need help with?"

She leaned over the table Harry sat at. He could see her tits.

"That's why I called you over."

She pressed her lips together.

"It'd be helpful to tell me what you needed to know, boy."

"m' name's Harry."

"And I'm Dinah. What does it matter, Harold?" She smirked. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Look, chick, all I'm trying to do is get a good grade for music class, and if you don't help me I'm telling your god damn boss."

Dinah put her hands on her hips.

Harry pressed his lips together. hard head, he thought.

"Good luck getting my dad to fire me, Harold," she leaned up and stared down at him crossly, "I'm in your history class. There's a computer over there," she points, "look up the group you were assigned."

Harry felt like a douche.

Correction; Harry was a douche. He just didn't acknowledge it.

"Oh," before dinah turned around, she smiled innocently at him, (harry could of swore it was a smirk,) "stop ogling my boobs."

Dinah was a douche, too.