Scrabble | Harry Styles

7

I set an alarm for half an hour earlier than usual, as Harry was picking me up at a time earlier than I would typically leave. I'd always been somewhat of a morning person - I didn't mind being up early when I had a real reason to be, and I felt like getting coffee with Harry would definitely suffice.

I'd barely slept - I felt like a child on Christmas Eve, and I wasn't entirely sure why. I'd met Harry only a couple of days ago, and I wouldn't have even dared to say that I liked him - yet I was practically losing myself in the idea of him wanting to get a coffee with me. This was so foreign - this idea of somebody actually wanting to spend time with me, and only me. I figured it was that, in itself, which was driving me to act so out of character. This sort of attention was something I'd never received, and all he'd done was call me and ask to pick me up before school.

It was 7:28 when I heard the quiet roar of an engine outside of my house, and I smoothed my hands over the floral dress I was wearing, suddenly concerned with whether it was too short, when I wore dresses of the very same style all the time. I slipped on my coat and pulled my bag over my shoulder, heading over to my window to glance out of it.

A white Mercedes was parked up on the curb directly outside my house, and it was in that moment I realised I hadn't even given him my address - but I'd question him on it later, as my eyes landed on him leaning against the side of the car. His back was pressed to the drivers' side door, his leg bent at the knee and his arms folded. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a black loose-fitting t-shirt, sunglasses covering his eyes as he waited. Waited for me.

My dad left for work before seven most days, and my mum would always get up when he did, regardless. When I made my way downstairs, she was seated at the kitchen table with a mug in her hand.

"Oh, hello, Blair - are you alright? You're ready early," she asked, genuinely puzzled. Her face was made up, as it always was, and I could smell her expensive perfume practically radiating from her white blouse.

"Yeah, I'm getting a ride from my friend today," I explained, and she nodded.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm good - thank you, though," I smiled at her, "he's waiting outside, actually. I'll see you tonight."

"Have a good day, sweetheart," she returned, as I headed for the door. I was grateful for her - I really was. She had her moments, but I was extremely fortunate with the parents I had - my mother was one of the most understanding, trusting women I'd ever come to know. She respected my privacy and trusted me to do my own thing without requiring her or my father's interference, and I loved that. I treasured that freedom.

I closed the front door behind me, stepping off the porch and towards where Harry's car was parked. His head turned towards me when I was only a few feet away, his hand raising to push his sunglasses back into his hair.

"Hello, pretty," his lips twitched into a grin, his eyes scanning me as I walked toward him. A shy flush fought its way onto my face, and I looked away briefly in hopes to stifle it. He pushed himself away from the car, moving over to the other side of the car to open the door, holding it open for me.

"Hi," I replied sheepishly, "cool car," I added, thanking him and getting into the car. Harry's car smelt like he did; like the cologne I'd smelt when he'd caught me in my moment of weakness on the street on Sunday. Just the silent recollection of such an action brought a shiver up my spine, and I chewed on my lip.

"So," he looked over at me, sticking the key into the ignition and turning it. He paused then, resting his forearms against the steering wheel. A boyish grin tugged on his lips, "How are you?"