Beg ✟ h.s. au (M)

t w o

"It's too late to turn back now. The once emerald gaze that was once held in his eyes is now swallowed by these black, lust-filled orbs. He takes hold of both my hands and pins them against the wall behind us. He's not here to play, oh no. Daddy came to finish what he started."

The more time I spend staring at him from across the chemistry room, the more I actually analyze. The more I actually begin to take in the features he holds. I could care less about what Mr. Lenard was going on about. Whether it be some sort of chemical bonding or molecules, it didn't interest me in the slightest.

No, the only point of interest in this bleak, chemistry class filled with about another twenty-something students was, and always will be him.

I'm not sure how he does it. How he can manage to always be so goddamn interesting without doing anything. He, of course, doesn't notice a thing.

Instead, you can physically see him straining to retain the information that will ultimately result in his oh so needed grade in the class. It's not even his liking. Like he actually gives a fuck what he makes in this class.

It's his parents, his coaches, his mentality. That's what's pushing him to become this prodigy. I run my black fingernails through my sandy hair, twirling the tips as I reach the end. My gaze still never falling from Mr. Saint over there.

"Ms. Masters, it'd be quite lovely if you actually listened during class instead of daydreaming," Mr. Lenard said, disturbing my thoughts.

In reply, I shifted in my seats sending an eye roll, and lip purse. Mr. Lenard-along with just about every other teacher that wasn't new or a substitute- knew not to bother punishing me. I've seen enough weekly detentions and Saturday schools to last me a lifetime and for some reason, the school board seems to think that it will "correct the child's behavior".

Well, obviously they've never dealt with a girl like Stella Masters because after the so-called corrective punishments weren't working they just quit altogether when it came to me. I figure they didn't want to waste any more money on a teacher who had to monitor me to make sure I "paid my dues".

"Now, as I was saying, we're starting a project that will continue on throughout the rest of the school year. Roughly lasting about ten weeks." And that alone earns nothing but groans from the class. "Alright, alright. You don't have to like it, but 65% of your grade rests on it so I'd advise taking this seriously."

I rest my elbow on the desk in front of me, leaning my head on my open palm. "Now the instructions for this," he says while walking around the classroom handing out a sheet to everyone, "you are to create a model, diagram, whatever, of something in the real world that relates to chemistry. Now don't be the kid who does this last minute and ends up saying toothpaste relates to chemistry because it chemically combined. Creativity gets you further."

You could see the smarter kids rush to get the ideas onto paper. Most kids sat there not caring. Probably waiting to put it off until the last minute and end up getting a mediocre grade. But then, there was Harry. His eyes scanning across the list of instructions and requirements over and over. His breathing already hitching as he had a mini freak out. Stress overload maybe?

"And one more thing class," Lenard continued his lecture. "You will be working with partners, which I picked for you of course." The class immediately went from a collective "yes" to even more groans of disappointment. "I'll put the pairs up on the projector. The rest of the class time is planning. This will also be the only class day you have to work on this, so it will require getting together with your partner outside of school."

And with that Mr. Lenard was finished with the instruction. A few moments later a list of everyone came up on the projector. Again twenty-something names appeared along with the partner next to them. My eyes scanned the list for my name, not really caring who it was.

...
Mark Johnson, Becky Turner
Cindy Gibson, Dillion Smith
Stella Masters, Harry Styles
Xavier Will, Amy Birch 

...

A smirk set on my face when I found my name. Along with my partner's. I didn't bother looking at the board anymore, but I turned to see Harry. He must have seen who his partner was as well because his eyes widened and went straight for me. I sent him a small smile and a light wave.

I collected the little stuff I brought to school and made my way towards him, moving my hips more than I probably should. This was my chance. My opening to create the saint into the sinned sex god.

I reached his desk and took a seat atop it. My legs crossed, hanging off the side, I moved my torso to face him. My arm extended in a greeting. "Stella Masters, nice to finally meet you ...."

"Uhm, Harry. Harry Styles" He stuttered hesitantly joining his hand to mine.

Oh this, this was going to be fun.

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lmao a bit cliche but ya know what idgaf this story is gonna get hella dirty lmaoooo

so yeah how much would y'all hate me of I set a vote goal for the next chapter?

A lot?
OH WELL HA

2 votes for the next chapter bc ily all ok

have a super splendid weekend and thanksgiving too

k I'm outiez
xox J