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'all my favourite conversations, always made in the A.M.'

(A.M - one direction)

-

Lunch rolled around far quicker than I expected, the bell ringing to signal our dismissal. I stood up, grabbed my bag and headed straight for my locker to dump it.

I slammed the door shut, and behind the frame I immediately caught sight of a head of brown curls, a black bandana pushing them back.

"Fuck me, you scared the shit out of me," I exclaimed, putting my hand over my chest to emphasise my shock as I reached over to shove his chest, "you dick!"

"Aw, come on, Ana, at least buy me dinner first," Harry grinned down at me, raising his hands playfully.

"What do you want?" I laughed, shoving my phone in my back pocket.

"I want to go somewhere, and I want to do something. So, come on."

"I can't ditch again."

"Of course you can," Harry frowned, "what's stopping you?"

I bit my lip, "Sadie isn't exactly over yesterday/"

"Fuck Sadie," he shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

I sighed, swinging my locker back open and grabbing my bag, "You're a bad influence, Harry Styles."

"Then let me corrupt you," his playful smirk spread across his face, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip as he now slammed my locker shut, "let's go."

"Where to?"

"I'll figure it out," he shrugged, leading me through the doors and out onto the street. To my surprise, he waited for me to catch up with him this time - Harry seemed to constantly storm off ahead and leave me to follow him - but now we walked beside each other - his quick paces becoming shorter.

"Take me back to that bookstore," I told him, his eyes darting to look at me.

"You like it there?" he raised his eyebrows.

I nodded, watching the smile grow on his face though he tried to hide it as we walked down the street, soon turning the corner to the bookstore.

Harry rested his hand on the small of my back once more, this time his hand lingering as we reached the terrace, his spare hand reaching to grab two books on the way out.

I sat down in the same chair as I had the day before, Harry doing the same as he handed me back Pride and Prejudice.

I recalled how Harry had snatched it from me yesterday, "I don't know where I-"

"Page 87," he answered immediately, staring down at his own book in his hands, lifting the cover to reveal the first page.

I found myself easily lost in the book once more, constantly encouraging me to wonder why I'd never wanted to pick it up sooner. The words immediately weaved their way into my mind; I was captivated.

It was only when I managed to tear my eyes from the page that I noticed Harry, equally as emerged into his own story - I found myself staring at him as he read - his green eyes carefully scanning the pages, studying every word as he read it. His face was erased of any smirk or grin you'd often find upon it - all it held was concentration. His bottom lip stuck out slightly, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth, his mouth only slightly forming the silent words he observed, his eyebrows resting in their natural state - for once, not raised in judgement.

"Quit staring, Levin," his voice startled me, and I forced myself to look back down at my book, playing it off as if I hadn't just observed him for a solid five minutes.

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