Hello, sorry for taking so long to update. I just wanted to let you know that I probably will be taking longer to update from now on, as I do online schooling and I'm way way behind and I need to get caught up before summer. I'll still update, they'll just be a few days apart.
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He guided me to the glider we had sitting underneath this huge tree and he sat down, pulling me down to sit next to him. Very close to him, actually. Like our legs were touching and everything.
"So, are you just gonna hide from 'Whitney all night, then?" I asked him, turning my head to look at him. My eyes met his and I was once again shocked at all of the beautiful colors floating in them.
"I mean, until she gets the hint, yeah," he said, shrugging before smiling one of his cute dimpled smiles.
Cute?
"And if she doesn't?" I raised my eyebrows at him, imagining Whitney to be one of those clingy girls that won't stop trying until she gets what she wants. In this case, Mr. Styles.
"We'll cross that bridge when it comes," he replied, gazing around my massive yard. It was the ideal yard for not only a child, but a teenager as well. There was this giant jungle gym that I barely played on as a kid, as I was always by myself and what fun are they when you have no one to play on them with? To the right there was a pond, complete with an 'island' in the middle that had a bunch of chairs where we could tan. We didn't get much use out of that, as England's weather was 96% crappy. There was also this shed and we had a movie projector, where we could project the movies onto the shed. Then there was the glider we were sitting on, and a tree next to it. Hooked onto the tree is a tire swing. The one thing I actually did use in this house when I was little.
Since I had nobody to actually push me, Julie was always 'too busy', I had to use my legs to push myself. I couldn't get very high that way, as my feet barely touched the ground at the time and I remember wishing for someone, anyone, to come push me.
My face lit up as an idea popped into my head and I jumped up and ran to the tire swing, plopping myself down so my butt went into the hole and my legs were above the tire, hanging over the edge.
"Come push me, Mr. Styles," I said in a sing song voice with a grin on my face. He slowly walked over to me and grabbed the chain that was holding the tire swing up, before pulling it back and pushing me forward.
I squealed at the speed of the swing, it surprisingly went very high and fast.
I laughed as he kept pushing and I kept going higher and faster, sad that I had to miss out on this as a child. If only Julie wasn't such a lazy ass.
I couldn't remember ever smiling like this unless I was with Scottie, he was the only one who could make me truly happy. Even Chelsea didn't make me smile that much, and when I did it was mainly forced. But here, right now, in this moment with Mr. Styles, I couldn't wipe that stupid grin off my face.
When I was swinging fairly high, Mr. Styles jumped onto the tire swing, sprawling himself across my body. I laughed even harder at that, attempting to push him off of me.
"Get- off - of - me," I said, adding big breaths in between each word for emphasis, "Can't - breathe."
I managed to push him off and he went flying, hitting the ground with a loud thud.
At this point, I actually couldn't breathe. Tears were falling from my eyes and I couldn't get myself to stop laughing. I felt giddy, like I was drunk, even though I'm not. I felt like one of those girls Scottie and I make fun of that act drunk, but the difference is I'm not acting. Guess I'm drunk off of Mr. Styles.
I heard him groan and he sprung up, running to the tire swing and pulling it to a stop.
I looked up at him with wide eyes, not knowing if he was hurt or mad at me, but the small smile on his face showed me that he wasn't.
"How do you like being dizzy, Randi?" He asked me, with a taunting smirk. I didn't feel like correcting the nickname he gave me so I just chose to ignore it.
"I don't," I replied, not understanding the significance of what he was asking me.
When he started to twist the tire swing around and around, I suddenly had the urge of slapping myself in the forehead. Obviously, this is why he was asking me.
I groaned as he kept spinning it and spinning it, knowing that I'd have to unspin the chain to get out and that's a lot of unspinning.
I felt sick, even though I haven't spun that much yet, and I wanted off but there was no way unless I could squeeze myself through the hole and go out the bottom, which was not happening.
He finally stopped spinning it and I sighed in relief, although that relief was short lived as he looked down at me with a mischievous grin, "You ready?" He asked me. I wanted to shake my head no, but there was no time as he had already let go of the chain and I took off spinning. I screamed as the yard turned into a blur.
I could literally see nothing, and when I started feeling nauseous I closed my eyes and tried to picture myself in another place.
Funnily enough, I couldn't. I didn't wanna be anywhere else than here on this tire swing with Mr. Styles, spinning or not.
Okay, now I'm sounding like a lovesick teenager, which I'm not. I'm just having fun, is all. Even though I'm on the verge of throwing up, I'm 99% sure that stupid smile is still on my stupid face.
Finally, the spinning slowed to a stop and I reopened my eyes, but everything was moving. I tried getting out but when I stood up, I tried walking and ended up running into something.
Arms grabbed my waist and tried to steady me, "Whoa, there. You okay?" He asked me and I looked up to see two Mr. Styles that were both swaying left to right. I closed my eyes and shook my head and I felt his arm around my waist, pulling me back toward the glider.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it'd make you that sick, I thought it'd be fun. It was stupid of me, I'm sorry," he was rambling on and I cut him off by blindly grabbing his hand and squeezing it. I then realized how awkward it was that I grabbed my teachers hand and so I immediately pulled it away and put it in my lap. My eyes were still closed and my head was resting against something soft, I assumed it was the pillow to the glider.
When I finally started to feel a little better, I opened my eyes and saw a starry sky staring back at me. I was confused for a minute, as I thought I had been sitting up on the glider with my head resting on the pillow, but when I turned my head to the left, I saw Mr. Style's chest and I about jumped up.
"Wow, sorry. Why was I laying on you, you could've just sat me down or something," I mumbled, embarrassed that I was practically laying in Mr. Style's lap.
He shook his head, "I was worried, you looked really sick. Your face was practically green. Besides, it's no bother. No offense, but this glider isn't exactly the most comfortable thing," he said, while shifting uncomfortably.
I nodded in agreement because it wasn't the best glider in the world. But it holds the best memories.
"It used to be my grandma's," I explained to him, "I used to stay with her when I was really really little while my parents were away and every morning we sat on it before breakfast while she drank her tea. When she died, I kept it and here it is," I patted it softly, smiling at the few good memories I had of being a kid.
"Oh, I'm sorry for cutting on it then. It's a lovely glider," he said, and bumped my shoulder.
I was still smiling when I replied, "Nah, it's okay. It is a pretty crappy glider. It just reminds me of my grandma, 's all."
He nodded before asking, "Where are your parents, anyways?"
I sighed loudly before answering, "They're both doctors and they live in London. They used to work at the hospital here after I was born but they got paid like half of what they get paid at the hospital in London. They started working there again when I was young so I stayed with my grandma, but then she died so I got a nanny. And yeah, now I'm old enough to be without a nanny, so."
"Why didn't you just move to London with them?" He questioned, while kicking my foot with his. I smiled at his stupid behavior, before kicking his foot back.
"Well, they switched back and forth between the two hospitals. They weren't originally supposed to stay at the London hospital, so I was just 'visiting' with my Grandma until they got ahead on bills and could afford to work at the small hospital down here. But then she died and so there were funeral expenses and stuff, so my dad still worked at that hospital while my mom came back to arrange everything. It was all so expensive so straight after the funeral she had to go back to work and again, it was only until they got caught up on stuff. They were staying in a small one bedroom flat in London and they said there was no room for me, so they hired a nanny to stay with me at this huge house and then came back once they were caught up on everything. But then when they came back, they realized that they were doing the same work and getting half the pay they would get in London so they decided to go back to London again, and by then, I had friends here that I didn't want to lose. They decided that I could stay with my nanny until I was old enough to live without her, which was 13, and then I could live by myself, if I still pleased. So now here I am," I finished, slightly out of breath from all of that talking.
He nodded, digesting that information. Before he could comment, I blurted out a question that's been bothering me all night.
"What's your first name?"
He looked down at me, slightly shocked at the sudden question but hey, I wanted to know.
He smiled and looked into my eyes, knocking the breath right out of me, "Robert."
"Robert," I repeated, slightly disappointed. Don't get me wrong, Robert's a lovely name, so don't get offended if that's your name. But it so did not fit him. Like, at all.
I heard his loud laugh and I looked up at him, confused.
"I'm just kidding, love," my heart fluttered at the fact he called me 'love', "It's Harry."
Now that, sounded like him. Harry. Harry Styles.
"Middle name?" I asked him, suddenly curious.
"Edward," He replied.
"Edward. Like Twilight," I laughed, elbowing him.
He nodded his head, "Except I had it first. He copied me."
"Is that so?" I asked him and he nodded his head. "What year were you born again?"
"'91," he replied, "Why?"
"Well, Edward was born in 1901, therefore you copied him, dumbass," I told him matter of factly.
"Should I find it concerning that you know the exact year a fictional character was born?" He asked me while raising his eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes, "I may or may not have had a Twilight obsession, okay. Not a big deal, but anyways, back to the matter at hand. You are a copier," I stated.
"Technically not, since Edward wasn't even created until Stephanie Meyer wrote the book, which was way after I was born. So he's still the copier," he replied easily.
"Whatever," I muttered, "Is your full name Harry or is it short for Harold or something?"
"Nah, it's just Harry," he stated and I grinned.
"Well I'm gonna call you Harold," I told him, not giving him much choice in the matter.
"Only if I get to call you Randi," he countered to which I scoffed.
"You already do," I told him and he nodded his head. "True. But if you call me Harold, you can't roll your eyes when I call you Randi," he fixed the offer.
"Deal," I agreed. I still wasn't a fan of the name 'Randi' because it still sounds like a boy's name to me, but I wanted to call Mr. Styles, I mean Harry, something nobody else calls him.
"Does anybody else call you Harold?" I asked him, hoping I was the only one who came up with the brilliant nickname. I mentally applauded myself.
"Well, it's not my name, so no. I'm mostly called Harry. Or Mr. Styles to students, but that's still new for me. I mean it's only my first week of teaching so when people call me that it doesn't feel like they're talking to me," he said and I nodded in agreement.
"Well I find it weird when you address me as 'Miss Groves' in class. Sounds like you're trying to talk to my mom," I scoffed.
"Would you rather me call you Randi in class?" He asked me and I pondered that for a moment.
"I think so, yeah," I replied. Even though I hated Randi, I hated Miss Groves even more. Although, both names didn't sound all that bad coming out of his mouth, if we're being honest.
"Well, that's a shame because I'm saving 'Randi' only for when we're alone. I don't want your classmates stealing my special nickname for you," he told me and I decided to mess with him a little bit.
"What makes you think it's so special? Plenty of people call me Randi," I said, pretending to pick fuzz off of my clothes trying to appear indifferent.
"What? Who the fuck would get Randi out of Miranda, now I'm gonna have to come up with a new nickname. I hate people," he muttered angrily and I wanted to kiss the little crinkle that formed in between his eyebrows.
Please shut up, Miranda, you do not want your lips anywhere near his face.
His gorgeous, lovely, clean cut face.
Alrighty, then. Moving on.
"I'm kidding," I laughed, "You can calm down, Harold. You're the only one who has ever called me Randi in my 17 years of life."
"17? That's how old you are?" He asked me and I suddenly felt embarrassed. He's 23 years old and I'm only 17. I'm practically a kid to him.
I nodded my head, suddenly wishing I didn't say that.
"Wow," he breathed, obviously not knowing what to say. Things got awkward real fast.
He looked up toward my house and I looked at him from the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his reaction.
I definitely didn't expect the one I got.
He turned his entire body toward me, folding his leg up on the glider. "You act really mature for your age, you know?" He said, staring at me in what looked like wonderment.
"What do you mean?" I asked him, because I'm pretty sure I'm actually really immature. But whatever floats his boat, I guess.
"Like," he paused, trying to think of the right words, "You're throwing a party, and instead of serving alcohol, you're pretending to serve it just to laugh at the people faking drunk," he said.
I looked at him in disbelief, "Um, I'm pretty sure that'd be classified as immature," I corrected him. Because I definitely didn't see how laughing at others would make me mature.
"No, I mean, you've got a good head on your shoulders. Like, you're 17, living in a house by yourself and throwing a party, yet you haven't drank an ounce of beer tonight. You're just responsible, 's all," he explained, whilst pinching his bottom lip in between his forefinger and thumb.
I shrugged, "I don't know, I just don't know anything else, really. I had to grow up at a really young age."
"I admire you, you know that?" He said and once again I found myself dumbfounded.
"Me? Why?" I asked him, honestly not understanding what was so admiring about me.
"What's not to admire? You haven't had the best childhood, yet I haven't heard you complain about it much. And you've grown up to be a lovely woman," he smiled at me and I couldn't help but return it.
And he called me a woman, so maybe I'm not such a kid to him after all.
"Well, it's getting late, I should probably head home. Do you think it'd be a dick move if I just left Whitney here?" He asked me and I laughed in response.
"Yes it would be, you better take her home or else all respect I have for you will be thrown out the window," I told him, only half serious. I don't really blame him for being annoyed of her.
He groaned, "I guess I probably should. She's probably gonna fake pass out on the way home just so I take her to my house," he said and now that he's said it, I really wouldn't put it past her.
"If it's such a problem for you, I could take her home?" I offered, even though I didn't really want to sit in a car with her but I found that I do things I normally wouldn't do for Harry.
The relief flooded across his face before he replied, "You don't mind? That would be great if you could, I'll give you gas money," he started to pull out his wallet from his skin tight black jeans but I shook my head, "Nah, it's fine, really. Where does she live?" I asked him.
He gave me very vague directions as we walked to my driveway so he could get in his car and drive home. He got into his Range Rover and turned it on, immediately rolling down his window. I leaned over and rested my arms on it and my chin on my arms.
"Thank you for coming tonight. Even though you definitely weren't invited," I smirked at him.
"Thank you for letting me come, even though I wasn't invited," he replied and I grinned.
"Really though, I don't know what I would've done without you. Scottie kept disappearing on me and I don't really have any other friends," I laughed, "So thank you for keeping me company. I had fun," I said, actually thankful for his friend Louis inviting him to the party.
"It was my pleasure," he replied, "Thank you for keeping me company. I would've had to hang out with Whitney all night which definitely wouldn't have been as fantastic as your company," he smirked at me.
"I can imagine," I laughed. "Well, see you Monday, Mr. Styles," I said, leaning myself off of his car window.
He furrowed his eyebrows, "Call me Harry outside of school. I don't wanna feel like your teacher."
"But you are my te-," I began but he cut me off by saying, "But I don't wanna feel like one when we're not in school, so call me Harry, please."
I nodded, "Okay, Harold."
He smiled and we were interrupted by that shrilly voice that I was already tired of hearing.
"I think that's my cue," he said, staring wide eyed at the girl stumbling down the driveway and toward his car.
"Alright, I'll get her home safe, hopefully," he cracked a smile and I continued, "See ya."
I started backing away from his car and he replied, "Bye, Randi."
"Harry!" Whitney yelled, chasing his car down the driveway but her running at her fastest was no match for his Range Rover.
"Wait, where are you going? You need to take me home!" She screamed and I rolled my eyes, slowly making my way to her.
She had given up chasing his car after he pulled out of the driveway and out of site and she stood at the end, staring down at the now empty road.
I kind of pitied her, but she was so damn annoying so it was hard to get myself to feel all that bad.
I finally reached her and grabbed her shoulder gently.
"Hey, it's me, Miranda. I can take you home, if you want?"
It looked like she wanted to decline but as she considered her options and realized that she didn't have very many, she nodded her head and took off in front of me.
I rolled my eyes as she stopped in front of the rows of cars parked in my massive driveway, obviously not knowing which one was mine.
"I don't even have my keys, one second," I told her before running inside to grab them.
They were hung on the hook by the door and once I grabbed them I ran back outside and she was still standing in the same spot.
"Took you long enough," she muttered and I never wanted to slap somebody more.
"You could always find a different ride home," I offered with a sickly sweet smile on my face. I didn't really have much of a problem with her before this moment, she hasn't really given me a reason to, minus her annoying voice, but now she was being a bitch for no reason.
"Whatever," she said rolling her eyes. Okay, I'm about two seconds from letting her walk her ass home.
I unlocked my car door and got in the drivers seat and impatiently waited for her to get in. She took her good old time and I suddenly wished I didn't offer to take her home.
"God, have you ever heard of cleaning your car?" She muttered, even though it was in no way dirty.
I silently mocked her while her head was facing the window and took off out of my driveway and down the road.
"Isn't this a guy's car?" She asked me.
"It's a Hummer. There's no rule saying only guys can drive it," I answered, wishing we could just make it to her house already so she can get out and I'll never have to see her again.
"Well, I've never seen a girl driving one before. Are you a lesbian or something?" She questioned me.
"No, I like guys," I told her in a clipped tone.
"Oh, could've fooled me," she said, staring down at her claw like nails.
I slammed my car to a stop.
"Okay, if you're going to continue to insult me, feel free to get out and walk home because I'm not dealing with it," I told her and she looked outside before shaking her head.
She didn't open her mouth one time the rest of the ride home.