Entry 10: 1st November
So, it's Tuesday evening and I'm here in the library, trying my best to block the laptop screen from other students as I type this. After the first day of lectures back, I'm too tired to start my Shakespeare assignment and have resorted to venting my feelings into this.
My break can only be described as uneventful at best. Of course, the whole family wanted to know everything which didn't exactly help in achieving my goal of not thinking about stupid Liam for the week. Last night, instead of heading out to get pissed like a normal student, I brought my sisters trick-or-treating and then moped around the house. Wild, me.
I got the early morning train today to uni to catch my first class after Hallowe'en break. I don't know what the university was expecting by scheduling return on the day after one of the biggest drinking nights of the year. I soon figured out that Liam was one of the many non-returning students who were all too hung-over to travel this morning.
I was glad of his absence in a way as I unpacked my suitcase in the empty room. I hadn't spoken to Liam since the kissing incident; I had left early Saturday morning while he was curled up in a ball on his bed, looking painfully adorable as usual.
He texted me on the first Sunday of the break:
Hey Louis! U shud hav woke me b4 you left yesterday... Hope u got back home ok. Just wanted to tell you to hav a good break. C u next Tuesday! Miss u already lol!
I had simply replied:
Hope you have a good break too. See you next week.
I had inserted a smiley face in the text and spent a good ten minutes debating whether to include it or not. I decided not to in the end. Liam didn't deserve one. I was pissed off with him. He hadn't even done anything wrong and I was pissed. Perfect bloody Liam. Screw him and his stupid adorable smile. Screw his stupid politeness. Screw his beautiful laugh. Screw him and his bloody heterosexuality.
OK, I'm banging this keyboard so hard a few people have started looking around.
Guess who one of the people staring at me is. Bloody Harry Styles. He's sitting on his own at a desk one row ahead of me and keeps turning around. I've just caught him looking at me with his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.
What the hell, he's coming over now. That look wasn't an invitation...
What a complete twat. He's after asking me about the creative writing assignment for next week. I knew he wasn't paying attention in class an hour ago.
"A thousand words on 'being myself'," I whispered to him as he bended over my desk. I put the screen of the laptop down so he couldn't nosey in what I had written.
"Are you working on it now?" he asked.
"No," I replied shortly, giving no further detail.
"Oh. OK then, thanks for that Lou Lou."
He was on his way back to his seat when he picked up a sheet of paper off the floor, looked at it and turned back around to hand it to me.
"Jenna says you're doing Performing Arts."
"Yeah... so?"
"Take a look. Are you auditioning?"
I put on my glasses and looked at the sheet. It was a flyer advertising auditions for a Christmas musical later in the week.
"There's a Christmas musical?" my irritation briefly gone as curiosity got the better of me.
"Well, according to that there is."
"What musical is it?"
"Hasn't been decided. Jenna was saying in class today that they're going to decide that when they have a rough idea of whom the main leads would be. How many males they have and stuff like that. By the way, are you pissed off at me or something?"
"What puts that idea in your head?" I said, trying to sound as disinterested as I could. I put the flyer to one side and looked at Harry full on, startled momentarily by something about his eyes that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
"Well for one, you keep rolling your eyes pretty much anytime I say anything at all in creative writing class. See! You just did it again!"
"Keep your voice down, will you?" I hissed. I purposely rolled my eyes again for good measure.
"You are pissed off! You know what I reckon?"
"What do you reckon?"
"I reckon you feel threatened."
"What nonsense are you-?"
"You feel threatened by me," Harry said, crouching down and smirking. "I'm the only other guy in that class. You naturally want to be better than me. That's why you got so thick when I corrected your journal entry that day and-"
"Oh, would you ever take your self-conceited hogwash and-"
"Hey, it's only natural," Harry said, still smirking at my irritation. "Alpha male and all that. I study psychology, you know."
"Good for you. Maybe that'll help you figure out why your brain comes up with such rubbish."
"Chillax, Lou Lou. This is a library. I was just giving an opinion. Anyway, I'm looking forward to reading your masterpiece next week. And by the way, I like the glasses. They make you look more... serious."
I glared at him as he winked at me and sauntered carelessly back to his seat, chuckling under his breath. That guy really knew how to push my buttons. Was he trying to imply that I looked stupid withoutmy glasses?
It's funny how, at the end of every encounter we've had with each other, Harry goes off grinning to himself while I'm always beside myself with pent-up rage.
I cursed Angie for forcing us to work in our journal pairs again next week. I hadn't had to talk to Harry since the Journal Incident because the rest of the creative writing classes before Hallowe'en were theory-based and there was no pairwork. That doesn't mean that Harry didn't get on my nerves. He would laugh loudly and flirtatiously with Jenna throughout the classes. The way he went around in his skinny trousers and his pruned shrub of a hairstyle so pompously made my blood pressure rise.
We hadn't talked since the Incident. I wondered what he thought of my admission that I was gay. I quickly realised I didn't care. And then the idea struck me: I'm going to write a thousand-word pile of crap for him to read about my flamboyant homosexual lifestyle. I figure he knows about me being gay anyway, so what's the harm?
I'm thinking of writing about how I love wearing tight colourful t-shirts out to gay bars and how my iPod is crammed with songs by Lady Gaga and Roger & Hammerstein. Neither of those are true but it sure would be worth writing just to see the look on Harry's face. I'll be more flaming male than alpha male.
I don't know why I'm laughing so hysterically to myself at the idea. The passing librarian just gave me a reproachful look and of course you-know-who turns his mop of a head around and raises his condescending eyebrows at me like I'm a big weirdo. Oh just you wait, Harry Styles. Next week you'll think I'm even weirder...Hopefully after that, you'll be too freaked out to annoy me again.
I've just taken out my phone. Two messages from Liam from earlier in the day. Hold on a second.
Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit. Really gotta run. No time to explain now.
Stupid bloody Liam. I swear I could kill him.
