A Heart of Gold

Chapter 18

"Put your middle finger here."

"Yeah, that's good. Really good. Now slide your ring finger down here."

"Yes! Now squeeze. Harder!"

I watch Harry's sneakered feet roll the wheeled black office chair down the line of kids perched on the long cafeteria table bench, guitars balanced on their little laps. A clip holds his hair out of his eyes and he scoots from kid to kid, head bent, repositioning their fingers with patience, his long, strong fingers gently rearranging their tight and awkward ones. They grip the frets and press the strings against the neck of the guitar, trying desperately to follow his directions.

There is kid noise and running and laughter all around us like random fluffy clouds dotting a clear blue sky but Harry's smile is a single beam of sunshine, focused like a spotlight on the faces of these three kids. He giggles watching them struggle and feeds them encouraging words in a soothing voice. But then their tenuous fingers strum those strings and they hear a clear chord resonate from their guitar, they look to him with wide eyes and open mouths. His eyes light up too and his mouth stretches open and I hear his happy cackle ring out, he thrills and nods and points at them and they all laugh and my heart swells and bursts into a million tiny pieces that rain like confetti all over my insides.

Harry Fucking Styles, in his gym shorts and sneakers, in this messy cafeteria of this run-down school, is a proud teacher.

All four of them turn to me and ask, "Did you hear that?!"

"Yes!" I slide onto the bench next to Harry, "That was amazing!" Isabella, Thomas and Sebastian jump off the bench and its high-fives all around. Isabella throws her arms around Harry's neck.

Harry turns to me and mouths, "Wow!" and I nod, "I know!"

"And you get this every day?" He is practically breathless.

"See?" I laugh, tracing my index fingers in the deep dimples on both sides of his face, "...well- most days!" He catches my hands and kisses my knuckles. "Its super exciting, isn't it?" and I peck his lips.

He doesn't tease me anymore when I ramble on over dinner about a successful math lesson we had or when, curled up on the couch with our wine, I tell him about the sad part in our book and how some kiddos got weepy when I read it. And he especially enjoys stories of sneaky misbehavior. He's starting to get it. Especially today. "Seeing those wheels spin, it's just the best."

Physical proof of Harry's presence and commitment to the kids is everywhere now- rainbow colored banners in the hallways preaching, "Treat People with Kindness." Bright yellow t-shirts on the kids that say the same. Floppy white daisies on my desk every week. But now he's planting bits of his spirit in these growing minds- his lightness and humor and love of music and maybe some talent that just might bloom someday under the right conditions. Exactly what every teacher hopes for.

"Don't get kissy." Thomas wags a finger at us in warning and the three kids lay the instruments gently on the table as they've been taught and fly off to their next adventure.

The look Harry gives me makes me tingle. "Well, now that's a good idea."

I blush. I haven't been able to think straight after last night.

He leans and puts his lips to my cheek and whispers, "I haven't been able to think straight after last night."

My stomach rolls remembering the way he unraveled me and I can't help a shiver that crawls up my spine. He notices and smiles slyly.

"Harry, we can't get kissy." I warn him.

"Well, no... not here." he counters, looking at me while he pulls on his bottom lip. A signature move of his that he knows drives me crazy and I blush again.