"I hate school." He mumble, slouching in your chair.
"What are you having trouble with?" Harry sighed not trying to look back at his gorgeous Girlfriend's face.
The handsome Teen wanted attention he hated when there was something disturbing the peace in this Relationship. Harry knew the work, the thing that was bothering him was that New kid, Bill Skarsgård.
Bill and his Five brothers moved across the street from you, every girl in school couldn't believe that God created such attractive boys. Harry was out of the Girls eyes now which you were kinda happy about because he was your Boyfriend. That wasn't the most GOOD part of it all they stop trying to push themselves upon him.
"Who keeps texting you?" He flip the paper over staring out the window.
Bill and you gotten pretty close seeing that you are his Tutor. A month of being an exchange student? And this big frog eyed, giant, gets to see and be around his Woman.
"It's probably Bill and can I see your Paper?"
Harry roll his eyes at the Bill part.
"I don't understand why can't he find another person." Harry said.
Harry always thought the guy was weird and strange.
"Harry." You smirked rubbing his shoulders.
"I'm serious, babe."
"He needs help, when someone needs help? I am willing."
"Willing to what?" He raise an pierced eyebrow before sucking in that loop lip piercing.
Harry soon pushed the chair back, causing your body to convulse seeing his tall frame in complete stretching mode. The curly haired Teen immediately sat down in those infamous black, chained on the belt loop jeans. Harry, was completely different from the other boys you dated. He was more into heavy Metal and listening to the Beatles than opposing to your R&B and Pop songs.
Not to forget he was the first ever Caucasian boy you ever dated. But that didn't stop you for feeling something about him that day in physics class, you tutor him in the 10th grade and you've been inseparable ever since.
"Tutor." You frown.
"Isn't that where we fell for each other?" Harry immediately sat down on the furry white carpet next the bed.
One of his legs were angled, the other was standing on the carpet. He looked annoyed waving his long ring—clammed hands up in the air giving off the obvious tone.
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"Can you stop?" Your eyes travel at the tips of his red bandanna pushing some curls back before seeing his tattoos peeking out that fitted white shirt.
