Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
**Harry's POV**
~~at school, free period~~
"C'mon, Harry. It's prom. You can't not go." My best friend Louis whines.
"It's barely even prom. It's a masquerade ball and you don't even get to choose your own date. It's really stupid." I argue. Our school created an online program that has you answer questions and matches you up with someone based on how you answer the questions. The catch is, you don't get to know who you match up with until the end of the dance.
"Why don't you just ask someone to go with you, and both of you can answer the questions the exact same way. That's what Niall and I are doing." Louis suggests.
"I don't know, Lou. I highly doubt the person I want to go with would actually say yes to me." And that's when I see him, standing there in all his beauty.
Zayn Malik
He is the definition of perfection. Everything about him is perfect. Well, except from the fact that he was born without his left forearm. From his elbow down was a 'robotic' prosthetic forearm and hand.
I, however, couldn't afford to get a high quality appendage for my nonexistent right leg, so I'm stuck with an old prosthetic leg that falls off when I run. I prefer to keep my deformity a secret from everyone at school except my close friends and physical education teachers, obviously.
"You never know." Louis puts his hand on my shoulder. "Maybe there will be a question asking if you're an amputee and both of you click yes." I give him a look that tells him to drop the topic. "Let's go to the computers so you can answer the questions and I can look at them."
"Okay." It was our free period, so we ventured off to the school library and signed in to use the computers. I quickly log on and wait for it to load. "This is so stupid." I mutter to myself.
"Stupid or not, you're doing this. You're going to prom. Now go to the school website and-"
"I know what to do. I was looking at the questions the other day." I cut him off.
"Cheater!" He whisper-yells at me. I scoff.
"Because you're not cheating by watching me take it." I state sarcastically.
"I'm a hypocrite, I know. Now less talkie more type-ie." I sigh as I take the test.
What's your favorite color? What do you like to do for fun? What's your dream date?
"I feel like an idiot." I admit. I fill out the rest of it with half-assed answers. "And... submit. There. I'm done."
~~the next week (prom)~~
"I really don't want to go." I groan, flopping onto Niall's bed.
"Harry, get up. You're going to wrinkle your suit." Niall scolds. "Don't you wanna look good for you mystery date?"
