Sonata (Harry Styles FanFiction)

15. You Speak French?

"However," he began again once she had made it through the majority of the room, all that was left was my row, "I was impressed by a select few. Your grades will reflect the depth that your papers affected your reader and forced him to think. Grades were also impacted by sentence structure, grammar, paragraph composition, and overall composition. This is an advanced writing course, as this was a first look at your abilities I now know what you are capable of and I doubt I will be impressed again," he paused, a discreet grin pulling at those sinful lips as Thin Nose made her way up the rows towards me.

F.ucking dick.

"I guess it pays to be the class whore," she sneered before flinging a stapled stack of paper at me and sashaying away.

"You would know," I laughed, arching an eyebrow at her as she whipped around to glad at me.

"How dare you!"

"Oh, go suck a cock," I groaned, rolling my eyes before turning away from her and to the stack of paper she had found so offensive.

Darien Grace

Styles

CCW212

Why Dwell In The Past When You Can Live In The Present

Memories are just diluted and often embellished ideals from one's past. Rarely, if ever, are the thoughts and actions "remembered" the truth of the event. How is one supposed to diagnose their own problems and personal demons when the instances that shaped them into who they are cannot be recalled as they truly were? What is to stop a person from perceiving a harmless disagreement between their parents as the root for all of their personal nightmares? Or a singular bad grade as the reason they failed out of college? It is my belief that a person is not shaped directly by the events of their life but rather as they view them and allow them to impact their judgment and decisions...

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't f.ucking believe it. He'd stolen my paper.

"What the actual f.uck."

Darien Grace

This was a joke right? This had to be his form of a sick fucking joke. What the hell kind of pathetic dick felt the need to root through someone's personal files and then steal them. How the hell had he even gotten into my computer? When had be gotten into my computer? I could already feel the anger rolling off of me in swells large enough to swallow all of New Orleans; my own personal hurricane of rage. Hazel eyes blazed into me, analyzing my every breath. Christ, I wanted to tear down those aisles and remove any hope he ever had of creating tiny little Harry clones, but I couldn't. This was a test. He was trying me to see how far he could push me before I reached my breaking point.

He was good, I'd give him that, but I was better. I'd been traumatizing my "teachers" for longer than I cared to remember; it was one of the many wonderful things that made me Ren Grace. He wanted to go toe to toe with me? Fine.

Game on.

Sucking in a deep breath, I forced my face to relax, schooling my expression into cool indifference. His right brow quirked up ever so slightly, dark eyes hardening to forged steel. I grinned at him, slowly letting the sardonic smile creep across my face before shaking my head and pulling on my beats. I cranked the volume up until the world around me was filled with nothing but the symphonic tones and the chime of piano keys. I hadn't been able to enjoy my Piano Practicum class this morning, my entire body had been humming with heady anticipation of just being in the same room as the foreign Incubus. He was my siren song and all other melodies just seemed to pale in comparison.