You Meet In Highschool

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You Meet In Highschool

Harry: “Oh, um… excuse me, yeah, sorry, I’ll just be, uh, getting that-” You took a step back from the lanky boy you had just run into, who was now snorting and fumbling for his chemistry book at your feet. You watched for a few seconds before second-hand embarrassment took over, leaning down and picking up the book, handing it to him. “No problem, happens to everyone, right?” You smiled at him, always having left a little bad for the awkward, tall boy that everyone always picked on. “Happens to me a little bit more,” you caught him mumble, his dark green eyes fleeting downward, pushing his glasses up his nose. “My name’s [Y/N],” you smiled, extending your hand as you both stood up, “Are you good at chemistry? Because I’m awful.” He stared at you with wide eyes, a flush creeping up his tiny ears. “Um, ya know, er, yeah, I’m kinda good.” You smiled, trying to put him at ease, “That’s great, do you think you could come over later and help me?” You didn’t know why everyone picked on him, he certainly seemed like there was more to him. “Yeah, sure. My name is, er, Harry.” 

Liam: You sat on the bleachers after school, overlooking the football field. “Oh my god,” your best friend blushed, “You are so lucky. Liam is soooo hot.” You chuckled as she hid her face behind a notebook and dramatically pretended to fall over the bleachers. “Yeah,” you smiled, watching as the practice wound down to an end, “I am pretty lucky… I got to go. I’ll call you later, yeah?” You friend started laughing as you trotted down the steps, not able to get to the field fast enough. You got to the bottom and sat there patiently, smiling at the other players who were sauntering off to their cars. You waited until you caught sight of Liam, sweaty from practice, with a dirty and grass-stained jersey still clinging to his football pads. He caught your eye and broke out into a smile, holding his arms open for you. You went running into them, and he caught you, swinging you in circles. “Eww! Liam! You’re sweaty.” He chuckled, setting you down and grabbing your hand, “You like it.” You rolled your eyes playfully, “Better not be sweaty for homecoming on Friday. Do you think you’ll win King?” You swung your arms between you as you thought about dating the homecoming king. “I don’t know,” he shrugged, smiling, “I’ve got you as my date, babe. I’ve already won.” 

Louis: “Are you crazy?” Your father screamed, slamming the door behind him as he stormed into your bedroom. “Louis Tomlinson!?” You had never seen your dad so angry, his face threatening to explode, his eyes looking like they were going to burst out of his head. “I love him, Dad!” You screamed back, jumping up off your bed, “And he loves me! So what the hell is your problem!” Your dad nearly threw your lamp off your nightstand. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. You’re on the fast track to Harvard. He’s on the fast track to jail. I will not have some tattooed, punk band singing boy keep my daughter from her future! You’re not seeing him.” With that and another slammed door, your dad was stomping down the stairs. You curled up into your pillow and started crying, letting your teenage angst boil. You stopped when you heard a familiar rapping on the window, jumping up to see your boyfriend clinging perilously to the terrace outside. “Lou!” You shrieked quietly, swinging the window open, “What are you doing? You’re going to fall!” He shrugged, leaning in the window for a kiss. “Motorcycle’s a runnin’, Juliet. Feel like a road trip?” 

Zayn: “Ew, you have a crush on who?” Your friend sipped her diet coke and placed it back down to the puke colored lunch tray. “You know,” you blushed, “Zayn.” Your friends looked appalled and skirted their forks around the multicolored mush that had been served that day. “I don’t think so,” your friend snapped, “Isn’t Niall Horan supposed to ask you out to homecoming?” You shrugged, getting up to throw your lunch away. “I don’t care. I’m going to ask Zayn.” You walked away from your shell-shocked friends, throwing your lunch away and heading out to the grassy quad where you knew the loner always hung out. Sure enough, you found him, nose deep in a sketch pad, fresh tattoos peaking out of the torn band teeshirt. He didn’t even notice you were there until you were blocking his sun, and his hand came up to cover his glasses-clad eyes as he looked at you. “Oh, hey. [Y/N], right?” You sat down next to him and smiled, “Yeah, [Y/N]. You’re Zayn?” He chuckled and kept moving his pencil across the pad of paper, both of you laughing quietly at your little joke. “How’d your friends take it?” He asked you, and you leaned on his shoulder. “Meh, they’ll deal with it. Last night was fun.” He smirked and threw an arm around your shoulder, “Yeah, it was, babe. Hey, I know you want to go to homecoming… But I was wondering if you wanted to maybe, ya know, head to this underground art gallery instead…” 

Niall: “Seriously, Niall?” You chuckled, picking your way through his kitchen, “How much did you and your friends drink last night?” Your very hungover boyfriend popped his head up from the couch. “Oh, ya know. The usual.” You giggled and tossed a beer can away, moving towards the couch. “How come your parents don’t absolutely kill you?” He pulled you onto him so you were straddling his waist. “What they don’t know, won’t hurt ‘em, right? Besides, they’re never home anyway…” He trailed off, and you leaned down and kissed him softly to pull his thoughts away from his absent minded parents. “So they don’t know that you’re barely graduating highschool?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “As long as I’m graduating…” You rolled your eyes playfully and swatted at the snapback he had on. “They don’t know you’re following your girlfriend off to college to live with her?” He laughed again, pulling you down on him and nuzzling into your neck, “They’d just say something about ‘puppy love’. But they’d travel halfway across the country to move in with her, too, if they knew how good she was with her-” “Niall!” You shrieked, swatting at his chest, laughing, “You’re a goof.” He poked your nose, “Who would’ve thought the drunk goof would get the valedictorian, eh?” 

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