𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬. [ 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈! ]

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐬. [ ☾ ] [ ☆ ]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑. ]

+ includes calculus, making out, and black shower curtains

WORD COUNT: 4,500.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE THE AGE GAP INCLUDED IN THIS IMAGINE. A HIGH-SCHOOLER SHOULD NOT BE DATING A GROWN MAN. SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD EM WROTE THIS WITH IGNORANCE. PLEASE READ WITH DISCRETION.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

harry had just cleaned his room an hour ago but it didn't look like it.

because he got a call from you an hour ago and you knocked on his door an hour ago and you walked into his room an hour ago. 

now his bed sheets were pushed off the mattress and the blanket was pooling over the edge onto the floor and there were pencils, markers, pens all scattered across the floor and his pillows were moved to the wrong side of the bed and notes scribbled in pen flooded around you.

you were lying flat across the width of his bed with your bent legs loitering in the air as he sat close beside you. your eyes narrowed at the convoluted equations glaring back at you from the thick calculus textbook under your chest. your mind didn't know what to do with the numbers you were staring at.

"this is bullshit," you said while gliding your hands across your face, "when will i ever need to know how to do inverse trig functions after high school? this knowledge won't benefit me at all."

"well," his sentence broke so he could mirror your relaxed position lying forward, "maybe you won't ever use inverse trig functions after high school. but this knowledge will benefit you for the test. then if you get a high grade on the test, your average will go up. then if you have a high average, you'll be more likely to get accepted into college. don't you want to go to college?"

you answered his question with sealed lips. he responded with raised eyebrows and a knowing grin.

"it's so hot in your room."

you rose to your knees and held your pencil between your teeth, then pulled at the hair tie closed around your wrist. you worked your stubborn hair into a messy knot on top of your head and neglected strands of hair framed your face and slithered behind your neck.

your words fought through the wood of the pencil in your mouth. "you should get a fan in here."

you dropped the pencil in your lap and nodded to the other side of the room.

"an oscillating fan right over there."

"oh yeah? you're gonna get it for me?"

"you act like you aren't drowning in wealth," you crouched forward to pinch at his white t-shirt, "where did you get this? versace?"

his hand clung to your wrist but you still didn't let go of his shirt. he used his other hand to point at you.

"hey, no flirting, remember?"

"flirting? how am i flirting?"

his chin tilted down just as his eyebrows raised with suspicion.

"no, that's not flirting."

you pulled your wrist from his hand and your fingers skated down the very surface of his arm. you leaned forward and whispered close to his ear.

"this is flirting."