The Admiration Project

Chapter 1

"So, creative writing?" He'd asked.

"No... more like... artful writing."

He'd given her the most incredulous look he could muster up. She just laughed at him. So, on the day of the deadline, he called his guidance counselor and told her that he wanted to take the class. He ignored the annoyed sigh on the other line of the phone.

He'd gotten himself somewhat excited for this fancy writing class, which is why his parade was rained -- no, poured -- on the second he walked through the door. Front row, right in the center, sat Harry Styles and Niall Horan in all their glory. Louis very nearly turned right back around and walked out, but he settled for clenching his fists and marching to the back of the room, taking the seat farthest from them.

Mr. Golden Boy Styles and BFF Niall Horan were everything cliché about popular boys. Harry, quarterback of the football team with Niall as his left tackle. Girls painted their football numbers on their cheeks at every game, obsessing over them like they were proper celebrities. Louis thought it was pathetic.

The two boys had been best friends since elementary school, and even then they were everybody's favorite duo. Harry with his big bright eyes and pink cheeks and childhood charm, Niall with his bubbly disposition and dorky braces and good jokes. Teachers had always worshipped the ground they walked on. Even though they were friendly with everyone, their only real 'friends' were each other. A Crescent Hill High party without Harry and Niall was simply just not a Crescent Hill High party.

The boys were like a fantasy to everyone in school. Louis despised them.

Well, Niall wasn't terrible, per se, but he was loud and boisterous all the time and it drove Louis nuts. Harry, on the other hand, was a total nightmare.

Even though chances were Harry didn't know Louis' name, Louis still hated every bone in that boy's body. The way he held his head up high sporting his dumb dimples, making the girls quite literally trip over their own feet as he sauntered by. The way he'd greet his fan club with a kiss on the cheek and a cheesy compliment and have them swooning over him all week.

He'd heard a rumor once that a group of popular girls made a list of who would get to ask Harry out and in what order, all just hoping to squirm their way into his pants.

All so fucking cliché. Louis could vomit.

He wiggled his hands underneath his thighs to keep himself from biting at his nails. He was getting himself all worked up over having to bear a class with Harry Styles, and he was not going to give him that satisfaction, regardless of whether or not he knew.

The classroom looked like an art class. In fact, it probably was, and they let whoever the godforsaken teacher of this godforsaken writing class just use the room for one period a day.

The man himself walked in a full minute after the bell rang, carrying a computer bag and a stack of paper. He was young, definitely fresh out of college. A slightly tousled head of brown hair hung over his forehead a bit, and he was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"What's up guys, I'm sorry I'm late," he started as he set his things down on his desk. "I had to talk to my supervisor one last time before she let me teach this class."

He pushed himself onto his desk and sat facing the students, crossing his legs at his ankles. His eyes scanned the room for a moment, taking in the faces. It was a small class, about fifteen kids at most.

"Now, I'm sure you've all been told already that this is not a normal english class. First things first, you can call me Stan. No Mr. Lucas crap. I'm too young for authority terms. I'm, like, three years older than the majority of you, so I'd prefer if you called me by my first name."