Sooner or Later (Feat. 1D and 5SOS)

6. Wanna Dance?

For nearly ten minutes, Emma had been carrying around the big, blue bowl of cheesy, sticky nachos. It had all happened so fast. Like a hawk, the blond-haired boy called Niall Horan had swooped in and then flown off again, leaving Emma both astounded and confused.

"Guard these with your life," he'd said, like the fate of the world depended on it, and then he shoved the bowl into her unsuspecting arms. It was absolutely ridiculous, and yet there she stood, bowl in hand.

He just seemed so likable, that Niall kid, so genuine and friendly. "Don't I know you?" he'd asked as soon as their paths crossed. "I swear, I've seen you around school. Biology, is it? Do we have biology together? Yeah, we do! You sit across from me in biology!"

"Um, I don't think ..." Emma had started to say, but the glimmer in his bright, cheery eyes persuaded her to agree. "Yeah, that was me!"

His eyes, those adorable, innocent blue eyes were to blame for Emma's submission. She would have done anything to see them light up again, even hold a bowl of chips for the rest of the night.

Unfortunately, Niall had picked the wrong person to protect his precious chips. No more than five minutes into her watch, several people had already stuck their hands into the bowl and looted his golden treasure. If Niall ever came back, he would be sorely disappointed.

Well, now what do I do? Emma wondered. Heidi's gone, and I have no idea where that Niall kid went. Am I really gonna be stuck with this bowl all night?

... and then she saw him. Like a scene plucked right from her most private fantasies, a boy was slowly making his way toward her, and not just any boy—Harry Styles himself, the boy in the grey sweater, the boy with the dazzling green eyes and knee-weakening smile. He was coming right for her, her of all people. In that moment, Emma Walters felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

With the little time she had to physically and emotionally prepare, Emma frantically combed her hair free of tangles, smoothed out her dress, and then positioned her body into its most flattering pose. 'If you don't have curves,' she'd once read in a magazine, 'create them yourself.' She tried to do just that, but her body ended up looking less like an 'S' and more like a 'Z.'

"Hey!" Harry said in a loud, cheerful voice upon reaching her, and when he noticed her clunky pose, he immediately asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Emma replied as she twirled her hair around her index finger. After the eighth go-around, she accidentally created a knot which ensnared her finger. With a quick yank, she ripped her finger free. "Why do you ask?" she went on, ignoring the pain radiating through her tender scalp.

"Well, you look really ... uncomfortable. And now you look like you're in a lot of pain. You're eyes are starting to tear up and everything."

His words hit like a hard slap across her face. Before she could make an even greater fool of herself, Emma dropped her stiff stance and settled into a more natural position.

"Anyway," Harry went on with a light-hearted chuckle, "I'm Harry. What's your name?"

"Emma," she murmured, but her words were smothered by the music blasting from the stereo.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Harry said. Without warning, he leaned in so that his ear was basically right up against Emma's trembling lips. "What did you say?"

The close proximity set Emma's cheeks ablaze. All of a sudden, she couldn't remember something as simple as her own name. "E-Emma," she finally answered. "My name is Emma."

Pulling back again, Harry carefully considered her answer. "Emma, huh? I like it." His lips curled into a grin. "Well, Emma, you should know that I came all the way over here because I wanted to ask you to dance."