Exchange × interracial h.s. ×

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A/N: thanks for reading

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"Harry, you know I hate when you do that. Stop it." Bianca swatted at Harry's hand that was resting on her knee. She and Harry were at a very expensive dinner Bianca's boss scheduled. She wasn't going to lose her job due to Harry's eagerness.

Harry looked over at Bianca. "Babe, he's not even looking over here, it's okay." He said. Bianca rolled her eyes. Why was he always like this? He's been changing lately. Almost like he doesn't like her for...her anymore. They haven't had sex in weeks. Maybe months. Something was missing.

Harry pulled his hand away anyways, when Bianca didn't answer. Bianca stood up, walking over to her boss. Harry stared at her body. Bianca was in deed very fit, and she knew it. She wore tight clothes, pulled her natural hair into cute little buns which she knew Harry loved.

Tonight though, she couldn't. She had to wear something at least half way decent. She had on a black, sparkling long dress. She had on her black stockings and black high heels. Her skin tone was a perfect brown, maybe a little lighter. She was basically perfect in Harry's eyes.

She walked and sat back down across from Harry. "What did you guys talk about?" He asked her, looking into her brown eyes. They were probably his favorite thing about her. "Work. You wouldn't understand. Are you ready to go home?" She asked, grabbing her purse, standing. Harry nodded, smiling.

{ flashback: the beginning }

Harold Edward Styles. Saying those words lead you to happiness basically. Just saying the words aloud can make you smile. He's beautiful. Wow, that's an understatement. He's gorgeous. His hazel green eyes when they dazzle in the moonlight. His hands that fit perfect into yours. Just...him.

Now picture him as a mean, unsuccessful, man-whore, tattooed, punk. Still hot right? No matter how many different perspectives you picture him as, he's still unbelievably perfect.

But for some reason, when Bianca looked at him and was with him, it was different. Almost like Harry was love struck. Bianca drove Harry insane. Anything she did, made Harry feel some type of way. Bianca was a sweet girl, home grown, only child, and young. 2 years younger than Harry.

She met Harry through her moms boss. He's her moms boss's son. They had to keep their relationship lowkey for a very long time, but when Bianca finally told her mom the truth, she was more than happy. Ever since then, they'd been closer than ever. Harry and Bianca have been together for almost a year now. Their anniversary is in a few months..

Is it bad that Harry might've accidentally forgotten the date?

{ back to reality }

When they got home, Bianca threw her shoes off and hung her coat up, and walking into the living room, sitting on the couch and sighing heavily. "I'm exhausted, can you give me a massage? My back is killing me. All week Dave has been having me stacking..." Bianca rambled on as Harry listened, walking over to her and starting to rub her shoulders lightly, but with enough force not to hurt her.

Harry had enough on his mind to worry about. He couldn't focus on anything, not even his beautiful girlfriend. He wanted to make this woman his wife one day and he couldn't even find enough strength to listen to her talk about something that made her happy.

He released a deep sigh he didn't realize he was holding in. Bianca turned and looked at him. "Was I talking too much?" She chuckled, looking into Harry's eyes. Harry shook his head, smiling. "You always talk too much, I'm pretty much immune to it." He joked, winking. Bianca gasped, and swatted at his chest playfully. "Someone's in a mood, what's wrong?" She asked, putting her hair behind her ear.