CONNIE and Rebecca were sitting together in the quad, their heads close together as they were deep in conversation. They looked up when they heard Jocelyn approaching them. She held a brown paper bag in each hand.
"Hungry much?" Rebecca asked as she pointed at the bags.
"They're not both for me," Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "One's for Harry."
"Harry?" Connie frowned. "You're making his lunch now?"
"No, I'm just doing something nice for him." Jocelyn made a motion for Connie to move down so that she could take a seat. "He's had a rough go of it this week. Did you guys know he might not graduate?"
"Surprise, surprise." Rebecca said sarcastically. "I think you actually have to come to school to get credit for being here."
Jocelyn laughed. "Well, actually, he has been here a lot more lately."
"It might have something to do with his new extra-curricular activity." Connie rolled her eyes. "I swear, guys wouldn't even get out of the bed in the morning if there were no women in the world."
"Totally." Rebecca agreed.
Jocelyn looked between her two friends. "What are you guys talking about? What extra-curricular activity?"
"You know," Connie nodded. "Bree."
"No, he can't stand her," Jocelyn insisted. "He's totally pissed at her."
"Since when?" Rebecca asked. She prided herself on being up on all the gossip and this was something that had eluded her.
"On Monday Harry and I hung out," Jocelyn paused, reveling in the sound of what she'd just said, "and he couldn't even stand to say her name."
"Oh, well then on Tuesday they made up, because I saw them all hot and heavy against her locker yesterday after school." Rebecca reported, sure of herself once again.
Jocelyn looked as if someone had just punched her in the stomach. She looked at Connie to clarify the information.
"I thought you knew Harry liked her," Connie whispered.
"Harry Styles doesn't like anyone. He just uses people and he's using her. Bree is an easy target because she doesn't know his reputation." Rebecca rushed in. "Jocelyn, you aren't an easy target. He knows he has to be real with you. That's the only reason he hasn't come around yet. You intimidate him."
"But I don't want to intimidate him." Jocelyn said softly. "Seriously, what can he see in Bree? She's gross!"
"She's not that bad," Connie countered. However when she saw the evil glare Jocelyn was giving her, she quickly amended her words. "But I've never really seen her close up."
"Well consider yourself lucky. I've seen sea urchins with better features." Jocelyn huffed.
Connie sat quietly listening as Rebecca and Jocelyn engaged in their own conversation. Rebecca was assuring Jocelyn that Harry and Bree would be over before they began. Jocelyn appeared desperate for every word, drinking it up like an oasis in the desert.
Connie couldn't make a judgment about Harry's relationship with Bree because she didn't really know her. But Connie knew Harry and, more importantly, she knew Jocelyn. And in her mind, the two were no love match.
* * *
Harry would never let on how thankful he was that Tom had chosen to pick him up for school that morning. He hadn't given much weight to being grounded when Desmond had first told him of it, but the solitary confinement, once his parents added no television and no video games, was starting to become maddening. It got to the point that he couldn't wait to go to school, which was why he was riding to school, on time, with Tom, at the moment, instead of skipping through his free period. And this was only his second day of restriction.
"So…" Tom ransomed a long gaze in Harry's direction.
Harry ignored him, figuring he'd get to the point eventually.
"So you finally settled down, eh? Trying out the other side of the tracks?" Tom wagged his eyebrows at his friend.
"Man, what the hell are you talking about?" Harry said gruffly.
"You…and Bree?"
Harry started at the mention of her name coming out of Tom's mouth, but he quickly recovered. "How did you know about that?"
"Dude, everyone knows about that. You weren't exactly incognito when you guys were going at it yesterday after school."
Harry sighed in exasperation. "Fuckin' small towns…people don't have anything better to do than get in my business…"
"People are talking about it because they're shocked. I'm even shocked and I know you."
"What's so shocking? I kissed a girl. Big deal."
"Well, for one, you're like a vampire, Harry. You don't usually come out to play until dark. And two, this girl is like…not your type."
"What's my type?" Harry pretended to be interested.
"I dunno…Jocelyn?"
"Not even."
Tom laughed. "I know you don't like her…but I've never really understood why. I mean, she's pretty, she's the horniest girl I've ever met and she's totally into you. Why not go for it?"
It wasn't as if Harry had never considered Jocelyn. When she'd first approached him a few years ago, he had been interested at first. But after spending time with her, she just didn't hold his attention. And then the more time they spent together, the more obsessed she became. Lately they couldn't even have a conversation without Jocelyn putting him in a position where he had to turn her down or reject her. It was tiring.
"She just doesn't do it for me. No spark, or whatever." Harry summed up. "What'd she do, pay you to talk me into hooking up with her?"
"No. I just wondered. You guys do have a lot in common." Tom added.
"That's part of the problem. Jocelyn changes who she is for every guy she likes. When I go over to her house, she has everything I've ever mentioned in her room. If I like a band, she finds out every possible thing about them, buys every CD they've ever made, and just goes overboard. She makes me hate everything I thought I liked. Besides, what's the point in hanging out with someone if they're trying to be you? I'd just hang out with myself if I was that into me."
"True," Tom acquiesced. "But you did say she gave good head."
Harry looked unenergetically over at Tom. "Have you ever had bad head? I mean, as long as she doesn't bite it, it's good."
Tom was silent for a long while as they neared the school campus. Finally he started laughing. "I still can't believe you have a girlfriend."
"Who said anything about a girlfriend?" Harry challenged.
"But you…in front of everyone…so, wait…you guys aren't together?" Tom asked awkwardly.
"I don't do the label thing. We just kissed, end of story. She's not my girlfriend and I'm not her boyfriend."
"And she knows this?"
Harry shrugged. "I never told her otherwise."
"Well damn," Tom said in a near pout, "I thought I would finally get you to agree to that double date Connie has been bugging me about."
"And why would I do that…even if I had a girlfriend?" Harry asked with distaste.
"Just something to do. Keep things interesting, I guess." Tom said.
"Connie getting boring already, 'eh? There's something to be said about the thrill of the chase. That's why I don't settle down."
"Connie could never be described as 'boring', that's for sure," Tom laughed. "She just wants to go on a date with another couple…and there are rewards to giving the lady what she likes."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Pussy," he muttered.
"Yes, pussy is one of the rewards," Tom added. "Anyway, if you change your mind and you and Bree ever want to go to a movie or something, let me know."
"Not going to happen," Harry insisted.
* * *
It had been sixteen-and-a-half hours since the agonizingly glorious moment Harry's lips came in contact with Bree's. And ever since then, all she could think of was kissing him again.
Over and over again in her head she replayed how their embrace had felt hard and soft at the same time; how Harry had smelled of leather and cigarettes and how his fingertips upon her skin had ignited a fire deep within her.
Often called a late bloomer by her mother, Bree had never been the type of girl to hope for "happily ever after", nor did her eyes search for eye candy amongst the male species. Sure, she'd found guys visually appealing, but never to the point of fantasizing about them.
All of that changed with that one kiss. Like a physical alarm clock, that kiss had awaken feelings that had, up until now, been in a slumbering state. Bree found herself longing for things she didn't know she had knowledge of. Her mind pleaded her to imagine Harry's hands, his lips, his…
"Bree!"
She snapped to attention quickly as Daisy waved her hand to and fro in front of her face.
"Oh, sorry. Um, what?" Bree asked.
"You're walking away from your truck," Daisy said.
"Um…yeah, I know. I have to get to class." Bree answered.
"But it's still running." Daisy pointed.
"What?" Bree quickly turned around and stared at her truck in disbelief. Surely she hadn't left the key in the ignition and the truck going…that had to be something else.
But there her truck sat, sputtering and a shaking with the exertion of a thirty-year-old motor.
"What the hell?" Bree retorted as she hastened over to her truck and cut the ignition quickly.
"You seriously didn't realize you hadn't shut your truck off?" Daisy asked incredulously.
"Uh-uh," Bree was embarrassed to admit. "I've got a lot on my mind."
"Wow…that must have been some kiss." Daisy giggled.
Bree's cheeks blazed with the intensity of a thousand blushes. "How'd you know about that?"
"Bree, this is Lockridge and he's Harry Styles. Everyone knows about that kiss."
Second period English, with Harry, was interesting to say the least. Bree was still starry-eyed as she took her seat next to where she knew he would soon be sitting. She'd tried to wait for him outside of the class, but when the warning bell had sounded and he still hadn't appeared, Bree headed into class without him.
Just as suspected, Harry arrived to class approximately five minutes later. Miss Teale gave him a disapproving glance, but she didn't make an example of him by pointing his tardiness out to the class. Instead, she continued on with the question she was asking a boy in the front row.
"Where were you?" Bree whispered.
"With Tom," Harry answered. He kept his eyes forward, apparently interested in the incorrect answer that was now being given to the teacher.
It didn't take Bree long to realize that Harry was purposely avoiding her gaze. Once she'd caught him looking at her, but when he saw that he'd been caught, he quickly looked away.
Confusion settled over Bree and she wasn't able to concentrate on anything being taught during the hour. All she could focus on was Harry and why he was acting the way he was acting. Her mind replayed everything that had transpired between them since the kiss. Dissecting each detail for some shard of an explanation for his behavior. She came up with nothing.
When the class ended, Bree expected Harry to storm out of the classroom in another effort to avoid her, but he didn't. He simply remained glued in his seat, blocking her ability to exit. Bree sat perplexed, staring at the side of his face.
"Oh, good, you two haven't left," Miss Teale approached Harry and Bree with a packet of papers in her outstretched hand. "This is all the classwork you have yet to catch up on, Harry. So, since you passed your test, once you get your participation grade in, you're fine. You'll receive credit for this class."
Tutoring. It was Wednesday and Bree was supposed to tutor Harry on Wednesdays. She had thought that the passing grade on his exam had negated the need for her services, but it was apparent Miss Teale had other plans. And she also hadn't finished her driver's manual. But with the way Harry was acting she wondered if he would find a way to get out of their appointment.
"I've got to get going," Bree stood, hinting to Harry that she needed him to move so that she could get by.
"Yeah…wait up," Harry said as he grabbed his jacket and moved alongside her.
Bree was silent as she waited for Harry to say whatever it was he had to say.
"So, can we meet at your house?" he asked. "Being on lockdown is getting old and I figure the wardens will let me out if it's school related."
It hadn't been what Bree had been expecting to hear, so she immediately had trouble following him. "What?"
"I'm grounded, but I think my parents will let me go to your house since we're doing homework. I just need to get out of that house." Harry clarified.
"Oh…well…sure. Okay." Bree shrugged. "Unless, of course, it interferes with your rule of not talking to me."
"I'm talking to you now, aren't I?" Harry countered.
Bree couldn't help but be annoyed by the small smirk that dwelled on Harry's lips. "And why is that, exactly? Why can you talk to me now, but not five minutes ago?"
Harry shrugged. "Whatever I say to you is meant for you, not everyone else."
"Okay," Bree drew out the syllables on the word, feeling as if Harry was speaking in a language she didn't understand.
"Everyone was staring at us. Watching to see how we acted and what we said. So I just didn't say anything." Harry said, as if his behavior was the most normal in the world.
"And you couldn't have clued me in on this little strategy?" Bree asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.
Harry stopped walking and turned to face Bree head on. "Bree, I don't like people in my business. So, I might not talk to you during class if I feel like everyone's trying to get in my business. How's that?"
Bree pursed her lips. "One might stand to argue that you shouldn't have kissed me at school, in front of everybody in the first place."
"Stand to argue? Who talks like that?"
"Sorry," Bree laughed. "I've been watching re-runs of Judging Amy."
Harry tried not to, but he couldn't help laughing right along with her. "Bree, you're weird."
"I've been called worse by better," she quipped as they fell into step alongside one another.
Harry followed as Bree walked to her locker… and everyone they passed was watching.
It was Harry's first inclination to lie to Anne about tutoring at Bree's house, but he couldn't find the right story that sounded viable enough to warrant a change of venue. So, he simply asked her if he could study at Bree's house instead of his own.
"Sure, that's fine. I'll have your father pick you up on his way home from the hospital." Anne agreed.
When speaking to Harry, Anne had started referring to Desmond as "dad" or "your father" about a year after Harry had been adopted. Harry could remember the first time she'd said it because it had felt so awkward and inappropriate. Even now, when Anne would tell Harry to "go ask your dad"; he always wanted to correct her – though he never did.
It had nothing to do with Desmond…not really. It just seemed like an unnecessary sentiment. Harry and Desmond were very clear of where they stood with one another and what role they fulfilled in one another's lives. Unlike Anne, who, on the other hand, had to constantly be reminded of how Harry felt about her…which is why when he'd called with his request, he'd referred to her as "Mom".
Bree had given Harry a disinterested "sure" when he'd asked if he could ride with her to her house, but her facial expression, and the nervous quiver of her voice conspired against her. Harry's ego soared as he relished the obviously conflicted emotions he bestowed upon her.
Harry followed Bree inside her house, and though she offered him a seat at the kitchen table, he followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom. She hadn't even heard him behind her until he spoke, and it startled her.
"Huh…definitely not how I pictured this room," Harry said as he looked around.
Too curious to ignore him, Bree asked, "Why are you picturing my room in the first place?"
"You can tell a lot about a person by what their bedroom looks like," Harry said, ignoring Bree's connotation. Instead, he walked over to a hardened chunk that looked like a dried mound of clay painted to match the color of Pepto-Bismol. "This, for example, means you're sentimental."
"Or it could mean that I needed a paperweight and it was the only thing I could find." Bree countered.
Harry picked up the clay and read the inscription on the bottom:
"To Miss Bree from Mrs. Amster's Kindergarten class – 2008"
It was a parting gift from a kindergarten class she'd helped out in for her Child Development class in Phoenix. They'd made her a "flower pot" (it didn't resemble one at all) for her to remember them by.
Bree reddened when she knew she'd been caught. "So I'm sentimental. So what?"
"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Harry shrugged as he took a seat on Bree's bed. His eyes fell on an antiquated looking piece of equipment on her bedside table.
"What's that?" he pointed to it.
"It's an alarm clock." Bree answered.
"I think they stopped making those in 1973."
Bree rolled her eyes. "I know it's old, but it has the best radio reception and I can't go to sleep without the radio on."
"How about a CD? Or your phone?"
"My phone has too many different types of songs on it and Cd's end. With the easy listening station on, I don't have to worry about some loud rock song coming on and waking me up. It all sounds the same."
"I have to have total quiet when I sleep."
"Well then, I suppose you live in the right town."
Bree sat across from Harry on the bed and pulled out the packet of papers Miss Teale had given them. She began reading the instructions aloud and explaining what Harry needed to do to complete the assignment.
Instead of listening, Harry fixated on how her lips moved as she spoke. Watching her lips reminded him of what it felt like to kiss her. Thinking about kissing her made him want to do it again…he tried to squelch that desire. Yet that made him want to kiss her all the more.
"Harry?"
Harry hadn't realized that Bree had asked him a question.
"Earth to Harry…" Bree stated again.
"What?" he asked, trying to act like it was completely normal for him to space out beyond auditory compliance.
"Were you even listening?" Bree asked.
"Actually, I was trying to remember if I thanked you for helping me pass that test."
Harry could tell what Bree was thinking before she opened her mouth to speak because of the hue that colored her cheeks.
"I believe you thanked me quite…well." Bree averted her eyes as she spoke.
"That was sorry," Harry said as he leaned forward, close enough to invade Bree's personal space. "This is thank you…"
Harry reached up and placed his fingers at the nape of Bree's neck, guiding her mouth closer to his. Gone were the tentative kisses of yesterday. Today's kiss was desire-ridden – the consequence of longing thoughts and self-deprivation.
Panting, they pulled away from each other.
"Am I really the first guy you've ever kissed?" Harry asked.
"Ugh! I'm never telling you anything ever again," Bree sighed in frustration, assuming Harry was poking fun at her.
"I just asked because you're a really good kisser," Harry admitted with a side-winding smile.
"Oh," Bree looked away in embarrassment. "So are you."
The quiet atmosphere of the room hung in the air, longer than socially appropriate. Harry watched Bree for a signal of her feelings. She toyed with the edges of the worksheet in her lap while stealing glances at Harry.
Damn, she's cute.
Cute. It wasn't a sentiment Harry usually had about girls. Fine, hot or sexy were terms Harry usually ascribed to members of the opposite sex who'd captured his interest before appearing in his fantasies wearing nothing more than a smile. Never cute. Cute was for things you wanted to snuggle, lovingly stroke and whisper sweet nothings to.
So, what was to be said about Bree, of whom he'd recently had the most erotic fantasies of his life about, but also who's hand he now ached to grasp in his own.
"Bree, do you like movies?" he asked before he realized what was coming out of his mouth.
"Um…yeah. Why?" she asked.
Sudden panic washed over him as he realized what he was about to do. Was he seriously about to ask her out on a date? Lockridge Falls was a small town and if Harry took Bree out on a Friday night, everyone would know about it. Was he ready for that?
"Just wondering," he muttered.
Apparently not.