Sonata (Harry Styles FanFiction)

23. Why Do You Do That?

Darien Grace

"You know I was dying all night, don't you?" Jas chided, grey eyes blazing. Immediately after I'd left Ellen, feather head and their friend this morning, I'd had to all but sprint to make it to my Music, Histories, and Cultures course. I usually knew better than to schedule an eight AM, but it was the only time they had available. I didn't even get to change until right before my composition lab and even then all I did was pull on a pair of vegan leather leggings and Steven Vulture heels. This shirt was seriously sent from God and I wan't going to give it up— it was Giorgio Armani for fuck's sake.

"I came three times last night, Jas. Three. I woke up and my legs shook."

"Looks like class was in session, then," she grinned wickedly, before taking a seat at the end of the bar.

"Actually, that's still on my to-do list," I rolled my eyes, pulling up my email for the fifth time today. The Darling Professor had cancelled class today. He really was doing a wonderful job. Caleb would be so proud to know that we'd already had more cancelled classes within the past two weeks than we ever did during an entire semester of his class.

"Who'd you leave with?"

"Not a damn clue," I shrugged, fingering the fabric of the shirt, "he knows his material though."

"You couldn't walk, Ren. That's pure fucking talent."

"No! I mean well yeah, he knew that material," I laughed, "but check out this shirt. It's fucking Armani."

"What the hell? You just took it?" Jas whispered, checking the tag, her face incredulous.

"I figured I'd earned it," I smirked, messing with the moonstone pendant around my neck.

"Oh, I'm sure you did."

"Come on, you and I both know that I changed his life."

"Damn. I almost miss dehydrated Ren. She was a lot more humble," Jas laughed, rolling her eyes at me.

"Oh, hush. I'm buying your drinks."

"In that case," Jas motioned to the bartender; she was at the other end of the bar talking with a couple sitting in the shadows, "two martini's, grey goose, dirty, extra olives."

"Let me see your IDs." I quirked an eyebrow up at Jas before fishing in my clutch for my fake. The bartender watched us with a strange expression before taking the cards from us. I'd never been carded on campus or by someone so "diligent" in her job.

"These are fake."

"Excuse me?"

"I said they're fake. Get out before I call the cops."

"Go ahead, call them. You'll just look like a paranoid bitch," I challenged. Our IDs were flawless. I knew it and so did local law enforcement. They'd been trying to bust me for years.

"Just serve them, Gabby." I turned at the sound of the male voice. He looked to be about thirty, light hair and eyes contrasted by his dark button up and distressed jeans.

"Pete, are you trying to get us arrested?"

"Are you? Piss too many of these kids off and they'll report us for serving minors period. Just give them their drinks."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Gabby grumbled, throwing our fakes down onto the counter. She filled our order in a fury, flinging vodka and olive juice everywhere.

"Someone needs to get it in," Jas joked, her grey eyes wicked, "she's almost as bad as you."

"Oh please, I was never that bad."