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Chapter 1; Sugar Caramal

"I like the way you talk, I like the things you wear
I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear"

"I like the way you talk, I like the things you wearI want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear"

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Harry

"Listen up!" I raise my voice to class. "I will be your substitute for the day. Professor Will is out for the day-" I look around the class. Lazy eyes, obviously still half asleep. "Personal reasons. So you guys can call me Mr.Styles or Mr. S for short. Got it?"

A few mumbles and nods spread through the classroom as I shamefully shake my head.

"I'm going to take your attendance so say 'here' when I call your name," I pick up the stack of papers, turning to the list of names. Caramal, Sugar.

Sugar

It was his bright red knitted sweater that caught my attention.

The mystery guy hesitates before calling out my name. "Here," I mutter. The whole class turn and look at me. I think I might die to count every pair of eyes on me. I give a crooked smile to no one in particular and lower my head down.

"Caramal? Are you sure, with an a?" he asks taking off his glasses, eyeing me as if I had just escaped from Area 51. "Like caramel?"

I hate being in the center of attention.

"Yes, I'm sure Mr.Styles," I stutter. "With an A."

"Huh, interesting," he mumbles before turning away and continues calling names.

Once he finished taking roll, Mr.Styles cleared his throat and bit his lips, why. I took a quick second to study the stranger. He looks like everything I should be afraid of and more. I'm sure he's over 6'ft. I mean, his legs are a mile long, especially in those pants. It was taboo for me to think that he's attractive but I was not the only one considering the number of mouths he managed to drop as soon as he walked into the room.

"So, Professor Will gave me some questions, pretty easy ones too. I'm guessing this is a pre-pop quiz," he scoffs. "Your teacher must go very easy on you guys."

One of the chatty girls in the class raises her hands and Mr.Styles points at her as a way of letting her speak.

"It's not for a quiz, it's for the upcoming final about everything we learned this semester," the girl, Tina, informs. "He said those are the only questions he can give us to study."

"Ah," Mr.Styles says. "Would you guys prefer me handing out the worksheets or work as a class?"

No one answers, an awkward silence takes over the room. "Raise your hands if you would like to work on this in pairs." He repeats firmly holding up the stack of white paper, making it obvious that he expected all to answer.

Sugar, baby {h.s}Dove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora