High Noon [H.S]

study buddies

It was nearing the end of October, which only meant one thing; it was midterm season, otherwise known as my own personal hell. Between the endless hours of studying and marked up notes, battling a horrendous cold I had somehow caught between Monday and now, and the extra shifts I'd picked up at The Grind, I was exhausted to say the least. The only thing that was helping my survival was the endless amounts of honey lemon tea I'd consumed over the week and Harry.

He'd brought over a cup of chicken soup from the market down the street two nights out of the week; leaving them bagged at my front door and sending me a little 'it's here' text because he knew that I had no energy for human interaction, at least that's what I'd said.

Truthfully, it was probably because I hadn't properly showered and smelled of the Vicks and menthol I'd smothered over my chest for the past three days. My hair was stuck in a nest atop my head, my nose was giving Rudolph a run for his money after the boxes of Kleenex I had gone through and the bags under my eyes were so purple I could have invented a new colour. I'd seen Harry many of times where I hadn't looked my best, but at my worst? I was definitely going to be drawing a line there, especially after what had happened Monday night. I knew one quick look at me would've scared him off and that was not what I wanted, not now.

Now four days later after living off of cold medicine, I was finally better, but I was still in hell.

Niall and I were supposed to be studying for our Contemporary Narrative midterm coming up next week. We'd already gotten to the library, booked ourselves a study room for the next few hours and unpacked all of our belongings until we realized that we had both forgotten our textbooks. Niall had assumed that I would be bringing mine because, of course he had, and I had accidentally left it lying forgotten on the kitchen counter when I was distracted eating my breakfast. It was French toast; how could I not be distracted by the heavens of French toast?

So, here we were, back at my building with Niall's annoying self who complained every two minutes about how heavy all of our stuff was. I'd made him carry it all, it was the least he could've done.

I know were just going to be a few seconds, just in and out, grab the textbook and leave, but I don't count on walking in to see virtually own personalized porno taking place on my couch. My eyes aren't prepared to see the sight of Holland and some guy minutes away from having sex so early in the morning.