WILDEST FANTASIES

EXTRA BLURB - Welcome To Creative Writing

You overslept on the first week of the semester. How cliché was that? You would have sworn that you set an alarm the night before... or maybe not?

Kostas opened that massive bottle of ouzo he brought back from Greece and you had a little semester opening party of your own, just the three of you after spending summer separately. It got a little wilder than you expected and you went to bed at three am, so it was definitely possible that you fell into bed without setting your alarm.

So on that particular day you were already a mess, forgot your wallet at home so Ramona lent you some money for lunch, there was a mishap with your student ID at the library and it took you fifteen minutes to scan it so you could get inside, you spilled coffee on your shirt and your phone died before your last class.

Though thinking back at it now, you're happy about that last one.

You walked into your first creative writing class already wishing it to be done and you completely forgot that Ramona sang you odes about Professor Styles last night and how hot he is. You've heard the rumors of the sexy, young professor on campus, but you never actually caught sight of him and you didn't want to get your expectations too high.

You walked into the auditorium munching on some crackers and you took a seat that wasn't too far behind, neither at the front. As more and more students showed up you realized that the class is mostly girls, which reminded you about what Ramona said about the professor.

"He is so hot, you might actually have an orgasm just listening to him," she said laughing before taking another shot the other night.

Since your phone was dead, you were left people watching. Everyone seemed excited about the class, girls were chatting and giggling and you caught the name Professor Styles several times until the door opened again and instead of another student, the professor walked in.

It was as if the whole room sighed all at once. The man walked up to the teacher's desk at the front and set his stack of books and notes down without looking up at first and you watched him like a hawk, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face finally. He fumbled a bit with his pencil case and set his phone to the desk with the screen down before eventually looking up to sweep his gaze through the room.

"Holy fucking shit," you mumbled to yourself before gulping hard.

Professor Harry Styles was so handsome with his perfectly carved jawline, gorgeous green eyes and tousled, curly hair, you've never seen a man like this. The butterflies in your stomach were practically raging, threatening to burst it open. You couldn't really tell what you felt in that moment exactly. It was like a deep, heavy crush, one you've never experienced before, but you also knew that you've only been looking at him for less than a moment, you shouldn't react this extremely.

Yet, you couldn't change the way he made you feel just by walking into the room.

He stood there for a while before his eyes landed on you and they stayed there. Those brilliant green irises connected with your gaze and you completely forgot how to breathe. He looked down at your hands laying on top of the desk before his look flickered away from you, just to return seconds later. The tiniest smile tugged on the corners of his lips

"Good afternoon," he spoke up, confident and loud, demanding everyone's attention instantly. "Welcome to creative writing, I'm Professor Harry Styles and I would like to ask everyone to put your phones aside for the next ninety minutes, because there's nothing that kills creativity more than reading text messages and tweets or whatever you guys are doing right now."

At his request, you tore your eyes away from him and looked around, just to see that practically everyone in the room was holding their phone, most likely sending messages to their friends about how hot the professor was.

"What's your name?" you heard him talk again and you turned back just to find him looking at you.

"Me?" you asked dumbly.

"Yes, you," he nodded.

"Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N," you said, your heart hammering in your chest.

"Be like Miss Y/L/N, her phone is not even anywhere out," he smiled, his eyes holding yours for another moment before he moved on and finally started the class.

That day, when you went home and Ramona asked how was your class with Professor Styles, you just sighed dreamily and told her: "I want to marry that man."

Now it's been almost five years. And you're actually married to him. Living together in the city, happier than ever.

The mattress beside you dips and it rips you out of your little nostalgia and you smile at Harry as he joins you under the covers, but he caught you raving into the distance already.

"What were you thinking about?" he hums, kissing your forehead gently. You settle in his embrace, cuddled to his side before looking into his eyes, biting into your bottom lip.

"Do you remember the first class? When we first saw each other?"

That same, tiny smile appears on his lips you saw in the auditorium that day and your heart skips a beat.

"Of course I do."

"Really?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"Why are you so shocked?" he chuckles softly.

"I don't know, there was a room full of girls drooling after you, why would you remember seeing me?" you shrug grinning.

"I asked for your name," he says, proving that he remembers. "You looked at me with those doe-like eyes and I asked the class to be like you and put their phones away. But I just wanted to know your name, I didn't want to wait until you turned in an assignment or something."

"Are you telling me you were crushing on me?" you gape at him overdramatizing it.

"Kind of, but don't tell the dean," he smirks, stealing a quick kiss.

"My phone died that day, that's why I didn't have it. I would have been texting Ramona if it was still working, but I had to wait until I got home."

"And what was so important you wanted to text her right away?" he asks, but his smile gives it away he already has some strong guesses.

"That I wanted to marry my professor," you admit chuckling and it makes him laugh too.

"Well, it only took us a little over four years to tie the knot," he smirks, before kissing you in the way his past self couldn't that day.