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The first time Louis sees her is a week before school starts. He’s sitting on the curb with a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes (all the better to people-watch with) when a sedan pulls up across the road. The forest green car is followed by a removalist’s truck and a ute packed with furniture, and they pull over in quick succession in front of the house directly opposite Louis’. He realises they haven’t had new neighbours in quite a while, since he can’t recall exactly when old Mrs Fordman moved out. Or died (she was, like 97). Louis doesn’t know which, and he doesn’t really care to find out either.
A woman steps out from the sedan’s passenger side and starts yapping at the removalists, while the middle-aged sedan driver starts unloading plastic crates from the car boot. Louis would offer to help them, but it’s hot (for late August in England), and he doesn’t want them to think he’s some Boy Scout do-gooder. Also, his mum will probably skin him if the neighbours try to befriend her and she has to cook for another community barbecue. These neighbours look like they might host community barbecues.
Louis is so absorbed in his thoughts he barely registers seeing the Sedan’s back doors open and two more people get out. A girl and a boy? Oh, nope, two girls. Oops. At that moment the boyish girl (she has short hair and is wearing football kit) looks at Louis, scowling as though she’s reading his mind, and Louis would be completely creeped out if the girl weren’t so damn pretty.
She’s tall – at least 5’10 or ’11 (just taller than Louis, maybe) – and lanky, with long skinny arms and legs only lengthened by the shortness of her Manchester United shorts. And, although she’s probably tripped over her own feet twice in the last minute, the way she moves is fluid and graceful, and Louis is compelled to keep staring (even though he’s starting to feel a little stalker-ish). Her green-grey eyes are half covered by a fringe of curls fluttering in the wind like fairy floss across her forehead, and the whole effect sends shivers down Louis’ spine and makes his stomach flip.
Of course, the other girl is pretty too – conventional, with long straight hair and mainstream girly clothes – but something just clicks when Louis sees this new neighbour. He suddenly finds himself reconsidering helping them unpack.
But, in his usual stupid manner, Louis gets nervous half way across the street and does a Usain Bolt all the way back to the safety of his house (more specifically, bed). It’s only the next day (when his mum finally realises the neighbours exist) that he actually plucks up the courage to go over and, theoretically, say hi. Instead he just stands there with a stupid grin on his face while Lottie does all the talking and hands over the brownies.
Louis doesn’t even catch the girl’s name.
~
He doesn’t see the girl again that week, and he walks into school on the first day grumbling. No one had any interesting stories to share on the bus, his locker is next to some random, and none of the lads from footie are in his Form class – except Zayn, and he’s not really one for Louis’ usual banter anyway (unless he’s drunk – Zayn is a fun drunk).
But apparently he talks enough while sober, because when Louis looks up from his (disappointing) timetable, he sees Zayn talking to Louis’ new neighbour.
“Hey Zayn!” Louis calls, trying to be casual as he strolls towards his startled team-mate. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” In fact, Louis hasn’t seen Zayn all summer because, well, when he’s sober the bloke can be a bit of a bore.
Anyway, Louis tries, but his neighbour just glares, green eyes wide and imposing and angry. Louis shudders involuntarily under the stare and shuffles over wordlessly to sit with some people he knows from classes. He’s listening to their conversation, but not really, because he’s staring at the new girl and hoping she doesn’t think he’s, like, scared of her and her stupid glare or something.
Which he might be, just a little bit.
By lunch Louis knows it’s going to be a shit semester. His maths teacher is an old hag with no sense of humour, he has no friends in woodwork (Louis doesn’t even know why he’s taking that class), and the day has been so busy he’s only talked to Liam and Niall once – between English and double Maths – and even then Liam was distracted by Sophia, the girl he’s picked up during Summer (and didn’t tell Louis about).
“Wow, what’s got your knickers in a twist?” Niall chuckles when Louis sinks into a seat at their usual lunch table. The whole First XI Football team is there, bantering and welcoming each other back; even Zayn is there, mucking about with the crowd. A few of the lads come to congratulate Louis on his appointment as captain, but he’s in no mood to think about the fast-approaching football season. Instead, he has his mind set on asking someone about the new girl, who he sees has weaselled her way to the girl’s First XI football team and is talking to their captain.
“No really Louis, why the thunder face?” Liam asks a minute later. Thunder face? Louis hadn’t even realised he was frowning. He sighs.
“Do either of you know anything about the new girl? She lives across the road from me.”
“Who, Harriet?”
“Harriet,” Louis repeats Niall’s answer quietly. “Harriet,” he mumbles again, liking the way the name rolls off his tongue and fits the subject like the last piece of a puzzle, revealing the whole picture to Louis – finally a name to match a face and a personality.
Louis doesn’t notice he’s gone starry-eyed until Liam says,
“Dude, you’re not gonna…ask her out, are you?”
At that moment Zayn walks over with a skip in his step and laughs, having overheard the conversation. “Date Harry? Impossible,” he slurs, obviously high on something someone else brought. Louis thinks he saw them go out behind the cafeteria.
All that aside, Louis snaps “Why?” at Zayn, who just giggles uncharacteristically.
“Because it’s Harry Styles, the most tomboy-ish girl this side of the globe, duh!” Zayn says, and promptly walks away in a smoky daze.
“So…is she, like, highly strung or something?” Louis calls to Zayn’s receding back desperately, “because every time I look at her, she looks like she’s gonna kill me!” he exclaims, but to no avail.
“Well, I got nothin’,” Niall shrugs before shovelling another forkful of lasagne into his mouth. Liam gives an apologetic shrug too, before passing Niall his unfinished burger and leaving to put his tray back.
Unsatisfied with his answer, Louis slouches into his seat with his arms crossed, pouting. He watches silently (and somewhat in awe) as Niall manages to eat two lunches, just as he does every day. The guy must have a metabolism like the fucking Flash or something with the way he stays stick thin. Louis watches his friend eat for a minute longer; all interest in his own ravioli lost, but then leaves, silently and with the subtlety of a ninja (or so he thinks). He doubts anyone really cares anyway.
~
Louis doesn’t have to fret long, because it turns out Harriet is in a number of his classes – Chemistry, PE (she’s a wiz at every sport they do), and Music. The damn girl has the voice of an angel and, because Louis sings and plays piano, they often end up working together on performance tasks. But this doesn’t make Louis’ unrequited love any easier to bear because, although Louis tries to be nice, Harriet remains as cold as ever, only conversing with Louis when absolutely necessary and never outside class or during the bus ride home. And she still glares when she thinks Louis isn’t watching.
In the next few months Harriet (“It’s just Harry!” she always exclaims, scrunching her face up in a sour frown that Louis thinks is adorable) becomes a prodigy on the girls football, hockey, and athletics teams. She may have seemed clumsy at first, but Louis, along with the rest of the school, has found that when she puts those long limbs to good use she is a fabulous sportswoman.
In these months, Louis also starts seeing Harry outside school more, with the number of weekend community parties steadily increasing as the temperatures declines. They are lavish garden-party-esque events, and Louis loves seeing Harry all dressed up, only because her parents say she must (especially when they’re the hosts). And it’s not only community get-togethers which frequent Louis’ agenda; his and Harry’s mother have struck up a firm friendship, and often plan inter-family dinners. Here, Louis sees Harry in her natural surroundings, comfortable and relaxed, and these moments are often what keep Louis awake at night. Just picturing Harry’s tentative smiles in front of her family; her open movements around her home; the way she interacts with her family like they are the most important thing in the world – it all makes Louis giddy and makes his heart yearn for Harry to look at him that way.
But he knows it will never happen.
~
It’s December when Louis and Harry finally get a take-home partner assignment, and before Louis can even get a word in, Harry has offered to meet at her house to work on it. Louis protests, says it’s no problem at his place, even with all his sisters (who all adore Harry and her sister Gemma), but Harry insists on her place.
The day they plan to meet is a Tuesday, but Louis doesn’t see Harry at school – she’s not up the back fiddling with the model skeleton in Chemistry, or shooting hoops with her friends in PE, and she’s certainly not in music when they should be working on their assignment. Louis texts her at lunch to make sure she’s okay – they exchanged numbers for this day only – but all her reply says is ‘4pm’, the time they’re supposed to meet, as though Louis would have forgotten. But, God, how could he forget such an important time? He was meeting Harry outside of school for goodness sake! It would be impossible to forget!
So Louis gets off the bus as usual at 3:45 and trudges through the snow, butterflies of nerves and cold flipping in his stomach. He trudges up the hill with snow falling lightly on his shoulders and in his hair, and it seems colder at the top of the hill, but maybe it’s just his nerves getting the better of him. So Louis pulls his coat tighter around him and pulls up his hood, and jogs across the snow-littered road to Harry’s front door.
Gemma opens the door and welcomes Louis, whose stomach is now writhing with nerves. She ushers him in quickly, out of the cold wet and into the heated foyer of the house. As Louis hangs up his coat, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the hall mirror: he looks like crap, all pale with dark shadows beneath his eyes and pink cheeks, and his nose bright red and dripping. His hair sticks up everywhere from the coat hood, but with his hands this numb he can’t really fix it. Oh well, he’ll just have to hope Harry doesn’t mind frostbitten boys with messy hair.
Gemma rushes towards Louis holding a steaming mug and hands it to him smiling.
“Sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I’ve got an online seminar in three minutes; Harry’s upstairs, second on the left.” With that, she hands Louis the mug and hurries off down the hallway with a wave over her shoulder. Gemma’s a nice girl, Louis supposes – not as pretty as Harry, in his opinion – but she can be a bit overbearing sometimes. Plus she’s way too devoted to her studies.
~
When Louis knocks on Harry’s door there’s a husky reply of ‘come in’ and Louis enters to find Harry sitting in bed, a nest of blankets and cushions placed around her. Books and pens are scattered all over the bead spread.
It takes Louis a moment to take in the room’s decoration. Amongst all the dinner parties and get-togethers Louis has never actually seen Harry’s bedroom. Its medium sized, with pale blue walls and white furniture, and there’s a large black-and-white Beatles photo framed above Harry’s bed. Adorning the wall above her desk is a collection of pin-boards covered in drawings and photos, and on the opposite wall is a collection of records and books. Posters of football players are scattered along the walls, and on the shelves beside
the bed is a myriad of sporting medals and trophies.
“Okay Tomlinson, we’re here to work, not ogle David Beckham,” Harry rasps, her pink nose scrunching as she sniffs. The poor thing must have a cold, Louis thinks, and suddenly realises that maybe the tea was for Harry. But then he spots a Disney-themed mug on Harry’s bedside table and relaxes.
“Yeah, okay, um,” Louis fumbles with his bag as he perches himself on the desk seat, looking for his laptop in the mess of papers that makes up his school bag. “Do you have any ideas to start with?”
“Yeah, I did a bit of research on composers and producers.” Harry gives a small smile, motioning at the 12-or-so books scattered around her. Each one is littered with sticky-notes – from 16th century composers to Katy Perry’s production team, she’s got it covered. And in that moment she almost seems to be acting politely towards Louis, or maybe it’s his numb head talking, because when he next looks up Harry is scowling again like Louis is gum on her shoes, and she would rather nothing than to get rid of him.
Louis sighs deeply, and really begins to realise that he’s absolutely fed up with this. He’s completely sick of the menacing looks, the ignorance, the way Harry treats him like scum when he’s never even had a polite conversation with her. He’s sick of feeling terrible for something he didn’t do – especially since he really, really, likes Harry – and having Harry oblivious to it because she won’t fucking listen for five seconds. Louis shouldn’t have to suffer in silence, and he’s going to tell Harry that.
“Do you have a problem with me?” he blurts before he knows what he’s doing, and his throat immediately goes dry. They shouldn’t be having this conversation here, not now, with Harry practically immobile in bed and all she did was look at him. Louis knows he’s glared at a multitude of people he dislikes, but then again, he hasn’t done it for nearly four bloody months straight. “Because I feel like you really do.”
Harry is silent, a half stunned, half blank look on her face. Louis takes the silence as a chance to continue.
“What have I ever done to you? It’s been four months Harry, and I’ve been nothing but kind to you, yet you still treat me like crap! Seriously, how many times have we worked together in class? And during how many of those assignments have you ever said a kind word, let alone fucking smiled?” Louis hears his voice rise at the end in a yell.
Now Harry looks a little more alert, reacting to Louis’ tirade with a kind of angry fire behind her eyes (one that, in the language of Harry Styles’ eyes, means she’s really pissed off), but she still doesn’t say anything.
“I’m just so over this,” Louis continues with a sigh, “If you’re not even going to act civilly, I don’t see how our partnership is going to work! I, for one, know that I absolutely cannot work with someone who can’t take a joke and be friendly. It’s just really frustrating when-“
Louis doesn’t notice Harry open her mouth, but suddenly she’s shouting at him in a way that would scare anyone else.
“You don’t get it do you? I don’t think you really understand that not everyone and everything is as black-and-white as you seem to perceive! Maybe if you shut your damn mouth for once and used your eyes you would see that people are more complicated than you think – no one’s feelings are as simple as what they appear at first sight.” Harry’s voice is raspy and cracks every so often, but she doesn’t seem to notice, what with her angry wild eyes and furious stare. “Did you ever, in the last four months, actually look at me properly? Maybe if you had payed attention and hadn’t thought so selfishly about how you wanted me to behave around you, but rather, how you should behave around me, perhaps we could have gotten off to a good start. Maybe if you had stopped being so fucking ignorant you would have realised that I wasn’t scowling at you, I was observing, working out how I could change to make you li-” she paused, and made a face like she had almost said something she shouldn’t have, although Louis had no idea what it could be.
“Oh, fuck it,” she whispers, “I just really like you, Louis – like, like like – and I thought that maybe if I knew what you looked for in a girl, then I could change to be right for you. But then, I thought maybe you would change for me too, and we would meet somewhere in the middle, and-”
That’s when Harry’s voice cracks, and suddenly she’s in tears, sobbing into her hands, and Louis is too stunned to move. Harry liked him too this whole time? It’s almost impossible for him to imagine after believing for so long that Harry hated him – but maybe she was right, and Louis was just being close-minded; if he had actually thought without jumping to conclusions maybe he would have seen the longing in some of those stares, the way Harry looked at him just then. Regret surges over him like a tidal wave, and he feels like such a jerk – there’s no way in hell Harry will even go out with him after this, anyway.
So he hugs her tight, and rubs circles and patterns on her back, and holds her until the sobs turn to quiet hiccups, and then Harry finally looks up from the crook of Louis’ neck and laughs; a soft, desperate laugh that can only describe how embarrassed and stupid she feels.
Louis knows Harry definitely won’t go out with him now, so what the hell, if he tells her how he feels it’s not going to make her think he’s less of an asshole. “To be honest, I-I really like you too Harry.”
“R-really?” Harry hiccups, looking up through her long lashes, and at that moment Louis realises just how close they are. His arms are still wrapped around Harry’s torso, and if he were to lean forward, he could so easily -
But Louis doesn’t finish the thought, because Harry’s lips are on his, and fireworks are exploding everywhere inside him; he’s feeling confused and scared and ecstatic and a bunch of other emotions even a psychiatrist wouldn’t be able to name. One half of his mind is telling him to ‘get into it, you dolt’, while the other is paralysed in shock because Harriet fucking Styles is KISSING HIM.
So Louis relaxes into the kiss, and in that moment it doesn’t matter that his toes are still numb; or that Harry is sick and her tears are on Louis’ cheeks now; or that Gemma could walk in at any moment now. No, for now it’s just Louis and Harry.
When they pull away, they stay close for a while – hands clasped together between their laps, with awe still unmistakable on their faces. And Louis wants to break the silence sitting stagnant in the air, but it’s as though Harry’s kiss has paralysed him and all he can do is relish in the remaining tingles of red lips against his. Harry’s wild green eyes twinkle with a smile, trained incessantly on Louis, assessing every detail.
And then Harry cracks a grin. “Some study session, huh?” she laughs, and she’s absolutely right.
“Fuck that,” Louis breathes, and presses his lips to Harry’s once more.
~
“Hey, where were you yesterday afternoon?” Liam asks the next day during lunch. It’s Wednesday, so Louis, Niall, Liam and Zayn are at Bertie’s (along with about half the school) for half-price pizza and hot chocolate.
Louis shrugs, quickly mumbling ‘busy’, and stabs another chip onto his fork.
“Well, whatever was keeping you so preoccupied-” Niall pauses to swallow his meat-lovers, “it can’t have been as good as our movie marathon.”
Louis smirks at that. “Let me guess…Back to the Future, Back to the Future Part Two, and Nemo? I’m sure it was fantastic,” he chuckles. Nobody really replies; they’re all suddenly very interested in their Coca-Cola glasses (because, well, they did end up watching Nemo…it’s a classic!). “Anyway, for your information, I was at Harry’s place,” Louis continues.
Now he’s got the lads’ attention - Niall’s eyes bug out, and Zayn just about chokes on his Fanta. Liam is just silent, any interest in his pizza vanished, and Louis gives a contented smile, knowing he’s now the centre of attention.
“Uh, why?” Zayn stutters, still coughing over the Fanta, most of which is on the front of his once-white school shirt.
“Just working on our music assignment,” Louis tells them, and proceeds to recount the whole afternoon – well, most of it. After the…events…of the day before, Harry had made Louis promise not to tell anyone, but Louis wasn’t very supportive of the agreement.
“Come on, man,” Niall interrupts halfway through the story, “you got into her room, and no action?” Liam hits the sod over the head.
“God, Niall,” he sighs, “Wow, I heard that none of the footie girls have even been to her place, let alone in her room! Louis was lucky to get the bloody doorway!”
“E-exactly; she was cold the whole time.” Louis agrees, albeit a little half-heartedly.
And that’s the end of that.
~
Until Monday, when Harry sits next to Louis in English.
Niall is already sitting on Louis’ right, and raises an eyebrow when Harry sits at the desk Left of Louis’ with a cheerful “Morning Louis,” and a small smile. Louis knows Niall can probably see the happiness in Harry’s eyes – it’s a stark difference from her usual mask of indifference.
“Uh, h-hi Harry,” Louis winces, knowing Niall is already highly suspicious at this point. It’s like Harry has completely forgotten the rules she made up (and refined when they went out on Saturday). “How was your weekend? Do any work on the music assignment?” Louis continues, trying to act normal and not freak the fuck out – Harry’s behaviour is really
confusing him.
But it’s hard to stay calm when Harry looks so freaking lovable – her nose is pink from the cold and her hair is mussed from her beanie and jacket hood, and Louis just wants to cuddle her coldness away and plant Eskimo kisses all over her face and see her blush in that delightful way she does.
But Niall is still looking at him like he’s committed a felony, and Louis really hopes Mrs Palmer arrives soon so he can escape into the world of The Great Gatsby, where he can feel somewhat relieved that his relationship isn’t as complicated as Gatsby and Daisy’s, and then write a 1000 word essay about it.
And Niall really must have noticed Louis’ torment, because he leans over and chuckles, “seems to me like more happened on Tuesday than you’re letting on, Tommo.”
Knowing Louis’ (terrible) luck, Mrs Palmer is away sick, so he’s left with Niall’s words ringing in his head and an elderly man squinting at him from across the room.
And Louis and Harry’s relationship privacy is gone in a blink.
~
A long explanation ensues around a library table during the lads’ spare lesson (when they really should be studying).
“You…and Harry?” Zayn repeats for the umpteenth time, like he still can’t comprehend it. “You’re dating Harriet Styles, resident tomboy and, until now, undatable female.”
Louis catches people’s eyes looking ‘sneakily’ towards him when Zayn says that a little too loudly.
Thanks to Niall’s motor-mouth, over half the school knows about Louis and Harry’s relationship by 3rd lesson, and by lunch its common knowledge that the pair have been dating for almost a week. Harry is indifferent about the attention, but it’s starting to get on Louis’ nerves – he hears his name multiple times as he passes people, and a few people had even asked him about it, just to make sure the vast majority of the school isn’t lying. It’s actually amazing how gossip spreads, quite literally, like wildfire around the school within hours.
“Yes! How hard is it for people to understand?!” Louis exclaims. The lads give him that look.
“Pretty hard, mate.”