𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! | harry styles

𝐕𝐈

A dozen white roses greet me when I get home from my finance class the next day. "I think you've got a keeper there, Soph," Mrs. Cope says, smiling hard as she presses the card into my hand.

To sweet kisses and new beginnings. -Harry

Being on the receiving end of Harry's thoughtful gesture feels every bit as wonderful as I'd imagined. I glide up the stairs, vase in hand, and rush to my phone.

Thank you for the beautiful flowers and a wonderful evening.

His answer comes back immediately.

The pleasure is mine.

Just when I catch my breath, he adds a kiss emoji.

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TGIF saps my energy. I step outside for my break, grinning when I see Harry's text: Miss me?

Yep.

Good. ;)

Bastard!

Haha! XX

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Morning, sunshine. Be good and get all your homework done today. Tomorrow night, you are all mine!

It's not exactly still morning when I wake to Harry's message. His last line keeps me puzzling for hours. Clearly, date one stops at kissing. What are Old School's rules for date two? It would serve him right if I had Mrs. Cope ask his intentions, but I try the subtle approach.

What time should I walk over? What can I bring?

I'll pick you up! 5:30 okay? Bring salad? Any food allergies/aversions?

Ugh, no clues. I have no choice but to throw a toothbrush and a thong into my purse.

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Showing up fifteen minutes early is not playing fair. I'm stuck washing and chopping lettuce in the kitchen while Mrs. Cope greets Harry and chats him up in the living room.

Hearing Harry's voice now makes me rethink my ban on phone calls. His laughter carries into the kitchen, seriously disturbing my concentration. I struggle to work the sharp knife down the cucumber without slicing off a finger in the process.

"Screw it!" I toss the half-pared cucumber into the salad bowl on top of the lettuce, followed by the unpeeled red onion, a big, ripe tomato, and a whole red pepper-sticker and all. "I'm coming!"

My heart skips a beat when Harry turns toward my approaching steps. Fuck me. Is he serious with those distressed jeans and dusty gray t-shirt? So, my memory hasn't been playing tricks on me. He is that hot.

His smile cranks up about a thousand degrees, igniting my body as he takes in my skin tight jeans and white tank. "Hello."

I'm supposed to be cool and not tackle him because salad and Mrs. Cope, so I force one foot deliberately in front of the other. He squeezes my free hand and pulls me in for a chaste kiss on the cheek.

You're not fooling me, Harry Styles. I can feel the heat coming off you. And damn, the way this man smells, even without the chocolate and cinnamon!

He glances into the deep wooden bowl as he takes it from me. "Um... interesting salad."

"Shush, you," I tell him, earning me a chuckle from Harry and Mrs. Cope.

"Ready?" Yeah, Harry's as eager as I am to bust out of here.

"Yes."

Mrs. Cope gives me a wink as she shoos us out again. "Have fun, you two."

"Good evening, Mrs. Cope," Harry says, taking my hand.