you flower, you feast (harry styles)

chapter 2

note: my mental picture of Winnie is particularly inspired by the above ^ picture of Lily Collins. The Harry I mentally refer to is 2019 Harry Styles.

be my mistake - the 1975
out of the woods - taylor swift
come through and chill - miguel

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How had I managed to justify something like this?

I paced the creaky wooden floors of my shitty one bedroom apartment, flustered and anxious.

"She's going to think I'm a fucking creep, Molly." I groaned, picking up my cat and sluggishly plopping down on the side of my bed.

Molly is a sweet little gray-colored Scottish Fold. I got her from a breeder my first year of school, only to learn the dorms would create a huge shit show out the matter. So, I went to the doctor for a letter and got permission to own an emotional support animal. Take that, Boston University.

For that reason, I made absolutely sure to get off of campus in terms of my living situation. I couldn't live with someone, I wasn't going to abide by their bullshit rules, and I didn't have the patience to argue with anyone. Not after they came after my fucking cat, that is.

I had no more than two days to figure out what I was going to do when Winnie came knocking at my door. I hadn't had a girlfriend since before I left the UK. Just three years of awkward hookups here and there, no romance. Romance had not been a priority of mine, as my sole purpose here was to get into medical school and make my mum proud. Not that Winnie was my girlfriend, or that I wanted her to be. She was only a girl who for whatever reason, would not stop eating away at my mind.

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I tossed and turned until late that night.

The moon was full, and the sound of the late night traffic had shifted from its usual calming aura to something of a more unsettling nature. I felt an indescribable wave of loneliness upon me. My king sized bed was too large for just Molly and I.

I unplugged my phone and rolled over, unlocking it.

"Shit." I muttered under my breath. I hadn't even thought to get Winnie's number, let alone full name.

There couldn't be too many eighteen year old Winnie's at BU, I thought to myself. I scrolled through all of my social medias, and after quickly realizing there was nothing worthwhile to look at, I locked my phone and leaned over to set it on my bedside table.

Shortly after doing so, I heard a buzz.

"Winnie Evans has started following you."

Shit, shit, shit. Problem solved, but also, what the hell do I do now?

I swiped the notification and am immediately taken to Instagram.

I quickly noticed that she doesn't have many posts, and only about 150 followers. Just as I figured, a she appeared as nice quiet girl who isn't too wrapped up in worldly bullshit, such as only posting certain times of day in order to get the maximum number of likes, or paying for sponsorships.

While scrolling through her feed, I noticed only one picture of Winnie, among several other pictures of nature and a particularly funny looking rabbit, who appeared to be called Muffin. I chuckled to myself, accidentally double tapping one of her older posts, and a heart appeared across the picture.

"Shit, shit, shit..." I grumbled to myself, unliking it as quickly as possible, as if it was any use. She'd already gotten the notification, and I was officially an Instagram stalking creep.

I then took that as my cue to lock my phone and plug it back into the charger.

"Muffin," I muttered to myself. "Who names a prey animal after food??"

"Mrow." Molly replied, stretching before curling up again on the pillow next to my head.

I tossed and turned the rest of the night.

How the hell was I going to help Winnie with her studies when I was "let go" as a tutor because I'm that shitty of a teacher? I know my information well, but I'm not very good at breaking it down into understandable terms and relaying it unto others. I wanted her to want to keep coming to me and asking for help, I wanted her to feel comfortable with me.

This was something that I had never really cared about before, and it was a strange feeling, being so worried about pleasing someone. I had a small handful of mates who I'd go out with now and then, but I never really paid much mind to what they really thought of me. What would Winnie's parents think of her spending time around a 23 year old man, who'd randomly asked her to let him tutor her on a Friday night in his off campus apartment? Her dad would likely want to blow my brains out and her mum would lecture Winnie out of her mind.

I couldn't worry about it now, though. It's harmless homework help, and her and I could both use a connection with someone.

I finally drifted to sleep with the thought of Winnie on my mind.