𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑! | harry styles

𝐈𝐕

"TOM!" Connie ambushed him the next morning as he approached his locker. At first he looked taken aback, but quickly altered his expression to one of indifference.

"What?" he asked as he averted his gaze.

"What do you mean what?" Connie shrilled. "What's your problem?"

Tom noticed that even though Connie appeared confident in her questioning of him, she was fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and shifting her weight from her left to her right foot. She was nervous.

"I don't have a problem." Tom shrugged. The wind was whipping his hair all over the place and as he swatted at it, he fleetingly wondered if it made him look weak. Harry's assessment of how he acted around Connie had really messed with his mind. Now Tom over-analyzed every little movement.

"So what, you're like, mad at me now?" Connie continued.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Tom asked evasively.

"I have no idea. But if you're not mad, how come you didn't call me back last night? I called you twice."

"You did?" Tom feigned confusion. "Did you leave messages?" Tom rummaged around in his locker, though there was absolutely nothing in there that he needed.

"Yes. Two! I left you two messages." Connie held up her fingers in case he needed a visual.

"Oh. I didn't get them. What'd you want?"

Connie narrowed her eyes at his tone. "If you're so interested to know what I want, try returning my call." She turned away from him and stalked off, but before she rounded the corner, she glanced over her shoulder to see if Tom was watching her. He wasn't.

When he was sure that Connie was gone, Tom leaned against his locker and rubbed his hands over his face. Avoiding Connie was harder than he'd ever imagined.

"Why am I doing this again?" he asked himself aloud as he softly banged his head against his locker.

As if in answer to his question, Harry appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and walked towards him.

"Dude, I don't know whether to punch you or hug you," Tom began.

"Why?" Harry asked wearily. He reached into the well-worn leather jacket he was wearing and fingered a pack of cigarettes, as if they were a source of security.

"Connie." Tom explained in one word. "I'm not sure, but I think it's working." He whispered.

"Of course it's working. The second she realizes you're not her little flunky, she's going to want a cum-cream salad with a side of Tom." Harry said as only he could.

Tom laughed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He noticed the balled up classified ads in Harry's hand and pointed to it.

"What's up? Pops making you get a job?" he asked.

"Nah. I'm looking for a car." Harry said as if it were an everyday occurrence.

"You're getting a car?"

"If I pass English…basically."

"Okay…so you're not getting a car."

"Man, shut the hell up! I'm going to pass."

"No offense, Harry, but is it even possible to get a grade lower than what you currently have in that class? You have, like, a negative F."

"It's that cunt, Teale. She waits until I'm not there to give all the study notes and then when I get the test, nothing from the book is on it. She does it on purpose."