Sex Lessons [h.s// fanfic]

Chapter 1-Pilot

OFFICIAL TRAILER ABOVE. ALL CREDITS DUE TO DANNY SMITH. 

"Stella Tanner?" Mr. Burly calls out my name slowly in his deep void voice for attendance.

Something I despise greatly, is when the teachers take attendance. Simply because, for a split second, your name is called, and everyone diverts their attention to you as you raise your hand or say "Here." I really hate attention, or being the center of it, even for a split second.

Slowly but surely, I raise my hand, sinking into my chair as the same nosey eyes peer at me. He nods at me dismissively, and continues taking roll, ignoring or disregarding my discomfort. 

One pair of eyes in particular, always made me feel uncomfortable, and so.. vulnerable. Like they were looking at me naked, and I had no choice but to stand there and let them watch me. Those jade eyes belonged to the juvenile, who I perceived to be an asshole that the entire Chantum High student body was well familiar with.

Harry Edward Styles.

The way he looks at people is unsettling to the stomach; I feel like crawling into a tight ball, and combusting into ashes. It's purely distressing. Yes his stares are that intense. He doesn't look at you. He stares at you. He stares into you.

I am almost afraid to look back at him, but curiosity gets the best of me as it always does.  I quickly swivel my head to the right, and just as I expected, he is looking straight at me. His green eyes dance with a dangerous glint that makes me shudder as I stare into them. A devilish smirk creeps onto his swollen pink lips, (lips that I won't admit to day dreaming about) and all too suddenly he looks away, breaking the eye contact that made my stomach flutter, and my throat dry.

I finally awkwardly look away, fiddling with my thumbs.

His smirk. He is famous for that damned sneaky smirk of his. He always has this permanent smirk on his face no matter how odd or inconvenient the situation is. I am still trying to decide if that is attractive or creepy.

I don't like Harry Styles. I really don't, and no one is ever going to change that because we are both evidently from different worlds.

He's the bad ass; the delinquent child with rumors flying around about him repeatedly going to juvenile detention centers. I, on the other hand, am the goody two shoes who lives in a mansion as big as this school. There's no way he would like a girl like me anyway. I am too timid and shy, whereas he's outgoing, and has dozens of friends.

The only friend I have is Niall, and even he talks to harry.

I'm just a loner. 

Groaning for no real reason at all, I bury my face into my arms, waiting for class to be over. It is a freaking hell hole in here, which explains the heavy burning feeling that is caving in on my brain.

I just wanna go home, though I know my parents won't pay any attention to me. I want to go home and lock myself up in my room, maybe read or write in my crumbling diary. It is well overused and is over flown in all types of past memories and stories, because that's what loners like myself do in our free time. We write in our diaries, since they're just about our only friend. 

Well, for me, that is.

                                                                             ***

"Hey, you," Niall smiles, nudging me in the shoulder.

Glaring at him through mascara coated lashes for practically making me spill my milk, I sigh anyway and sit down next to my hungry friend. He peers over at me over the burger in his hand, eyeing my only beverage.