Be asking how's it going (say the goings well)

Naamloos deel 2

The first note comes nearly two weeks later, disguised as an essay within a stack of papers Harry is working on grading while sipping red wine on a Friday night.

Dear Mr. Styles,

I'm sat here, where I should be writing an essay on whether or not I believe the evil sisters in Macbeth actually hold supernatural powers, yet all I can think about is you.

I think of you a lot, if I'm honest. I sit at my desk pretending to be listening to your lecture when really all I'm doing is admiring you.

I imagine running my hands through your hair while you kiss me, soft and slow. You touching me all over until I'm breathless and moaning, and you'll grab my arse and squeeze it because god your hands are so big and I bet you could fit my whole bum in them. Your hands are all I've thought about for the last two weeks, Mr. Styles.

Every day I stare at your fingers as they write on the board or tug on your lip when you're deep in thought and I can't help but to think about how good they'd feel pressed inside...

Sorry, the library's about to close. I've gotta go.

Harry stares at the paper in disbelief for a few more moments before reading it once more, just in case this is all actually a wine induced haze and he hasn't just received a sexual letter from one of his students about himself.

He knows it has to be from someone in his fourth class, as he keeps each classes work separate so he doesn't get confused when passing papers back and this one came out of the fourth folder. He flounders as he tries to think of who could have possibly written this note but comes up blank.

He notes the student says they should have been writing their essay at the time so he shuffles through the folder quickly, trying to find if anyone didn't turn a paper in, but each students is accounted for and Harry still can't actually believe this is happening to him.

He debates handing the note into the headmistress but quickly decides against it when he thinks back to Nick taking the piss about him being the hot teacher who gets fired for boning one of the students.

Harry groans as he imagines himself getting blamed for the whole thing, somehow being seen as instigating the letter by getting too friendly with one of the students or something.

He scrubs a hand over his face and whispers out a fuck, fuck, fuck before setting the paper aside and grabbing his next essay to grade.

He'll forget about it, that's what he'll do. It's probably just a girl with a silly crush and she'll be moved on from it by next week and Harry can just completely forget about the note. He has to.

*

Forgetting about the note is easier said than done when, the following Monday in class, Harry has his lip rolling between his fingers as he unconsciously scans his fourth class to see if anyone is paying any specific attention to him. But everyone is going over their essays Harry just handed back, huffing or bragging about the grade they were given, and no one seems to be even giving him a glance.

Harry sighs before shaking his head, tells himself to forget about the note for the millionth time, and claps his hands together to quiet everyone down.

"Right," Harry begins. "Today we're going to be doing some reading from the text so, uh, Zayn, could you help me pass the books out please?"

Harry heads to the shelves in the back of the room to start gathering books while Zayn does the same with only minimum sighing and one pulled face at Louis, which Harry ignores.

"Really, Zayn?" Harry chuckles as he glances down to see that Zayn's only picked up three books and is about to turn away to begin setting them on desks.

"They're heavy!" Zayn protests and Harry shakes his head with a laugh.

"I've got less muscle than you and I can carry more than that, come on." Harry reaches down to pick up another book and is just about to stand back up when he nearly drops every text book on himself at Zayn's next words.

"Guess its cause you got such big hands, innit?"

Harry chokes. That's the only way to describe the sounds that come out of his mouth. He coughs and sputters and nearly keels over before glancing at Zayn in disbelief.

But. Zayn doesn't look like he's just said something inappropriate. There's not a hint of the usual smirk on his face like when him or Louis' just said something cheeky, just a small, confused smile as he stares at Harry.

"Alright, Mr. Styles?" Zayn's eyebrows begin to furrow as he continues to stare at Harry as if he's lost his mind and Harry briefly thinks that he probably has.

"Alright. Yeah, alright." Harry mutters before turning away and beginning to place books on everyone's desk.

Zayn shrugs and begins to do the same and just as Harry's going back to pick up more books, he happens to glance at Louis, who is staring very determinedly at his desk, a scowl on his face, and his cheeks redder than Harry's ever seen them.

Harry would very much like to not think about the blush on Louis Tomlinson's face or what could have possibly put it there.