Frat Boy Pt. 4
Thank you guys so much for enjoying frat boy, I get so excited each time I hear your responses! We can all thank @whathefuckeverr for this amazing edit :) Also thanks for being patient everyone, i hope it’s worth it.. ;) xx
He hadn’t held the door open for you. Granted, you never really expected him to, but when it slammed shut in your face it nevertheless left a chill.
A nosy pedestrian gave you an apologetic glance, and you really wanted to tell them you were definitely not with him, not the guy that walked just as fast as he drove, mumbling a “come on” or huffing every few seconds when you’d fallen behind, not the guy who seemed to be rushing to get away from you, to the cover of the indoors. But then the sky opened its mouth a little more and you started to feel a drizzle, the stranger was forgotten as you ducked under the awning. And when you walked through the doors and saw Harry still clad in his practice uniform brushing off the stares that seemed to gravitate towards him, you thought, perhaps you wouldn’t completely mind if you were with him. You waited a little awkwardly by the door along with the other normal people waiting their turn in the long line Harry had assumedly skipped. He stood confidently, like he was standing in his living room and not like he’d just jumped to the front on one of Kean’s busiest nights, and you watched curiously as he spoke to the hostess who had the whole Urban Outfitter wardrobe and Tumblr girl pout going on.
The look you clearly weren’t going for.
When he gestured behind him with a little look your way, and the hostess followed his gaze, you offered a small smile and saw her brows knit together a bit in what you could only guess was distaste. It stung, but you were more focused on the way he leaned towards her just the slightest to say something a little lower, and the way her pout suddenly turned up with a giggle from his huskily-spoken words.
And the way his smile broke into a smug grin as he took in her change of mood.
He broke his focus with the hostess to look back at you, still looking as smug as ever, and you cursed yourself for following him when he tossed his head to come closer. Truly, it killed you a bit to follow this arrogant panty-dropper, and you mumbled little apologizes to the people you (not so elegantly) brushed past to get there. You hated the stupid pangs of jealousy at his intimate actions with the hostess when in reality his words were completely meaningless, a means to an end. Actually, you should be trying to warn the girl before it was too late and she was spread on his bed like a sloppy PB&J and thrown in the trash the next morning by a kid who decided he didn’t like the way the jelly and the peanut butter ran off the edges.
The hostess was quickly leading you through the filled tables to the only open space and when you saw it you wanted to roll your eyes. The largest booth at the back of the room, and somehow it had Harry written all over it. That hostess must’ve been a yoga instructor or an acrobat because you were downright struggling to maneuver through everything that quick and Harry, surprisingly, was gracious enough to wait for you.
“Why’d yeh wait by the door?” he asked. And if you weren’t smarter, you would’ve thought you heard the smallest sliver of concern.
“It was too ridiculously crowded. But it looks like that wasn’t a problem for you,” you observed.
“We’re friends.” His tone was dismissive, but you couldn’t trust it.
His hand found its way to your waist to help you forward and you couldn’t quite swivel out of it in the narrow spaces between chairs and tables.
“This isn’t a date Styles.”
“Never said it was,” he countered. “M’not cheap enough to take a girl here fo’ a date. Plus you’re m’tutor now aren’t yeh? ‘M not that kinky.”
“Right, forgot you were rich. Would you fly her to Spain for dinner then?” you scoffed, but you were cringing at how you couldn’t mask your sudden sour mood.
“Why, d’yeh like Spain?”
You almost seriously questioned if he would and mumbled a never mind. You never really thought about how rich Harry was, you knew his family was well-known for something, and you were pretty sure it was a big something. But you’d just never been sure what. For all you knew, he could own half the oil rigs in Texas and own two private planes. The rich weren’t exactly scarce in your town, actually it was normal for you to see Ferraris and Rolls-Royces at the grocery store on the daily, and Harry’s family was definitely situated at the top of the rich hierarchy. You reckoned his family had a collection of exotic cars.
The hostess quickly called a waiter over to clear the table and her persistent glances towards Harry when you slid into the booth set you in a petulant mood. He’d probably fly the hostess to Spain. He’d probably be kinky with the hostess in Spain.
He slid in beside you and his hands brushed against yours as he did so, a tingle running up your sides from the gentle touch.
“I know m’not into role play, but you’d still look sexy in a pencil skirt,” he murmured lowly.
You practically choked on air, and before you could mumble an incoherent what? his eyes were already back on the hostess. Bright with laughter. And anything but innocent.
“You’re all set. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” she said. And the way she looked directly at Harry with a coy smile and nonchalantly leant down to accentuate her ample cleavage made you think that yes, she really did mean anything.
“Thanks Em. ‘M glad you’re workin’ tonight,” he said warmly, with that crooked smile that could charm the knickers off your gran. Em. The intimacy in which he spoke those words was twisting the knife lodged deep in your stomach.
Was everything that came out of his mouth this seductive-sounding? You weren’t making this up were you? You couldn’t possibly.
“The usual?” she asked, in that familiar way that made you grit your teeth with annoyance.
“‘M not sure yet, we’ll get back to yeh soon,” he sent her a little wink and you swore she actually swooned. A small flustered smile befell her and Harry was watching it all, his charming persona never faltering. “Well when you figure it out you know where to find me,” she said, turning her head and wiggling her hips a little too much when she walked away. Her long blonde hair was perfectly curled and you were envious of how it seemed to fall so naturally, swish each way when she walked. For a moment, you regretted throwing your hair in a bun.
Harry suddenly ran his hands up and down his face once and leant back with a sigh, your body tensing just the slightest when you sensed his arm fall just above your shoulders.
“Do you treat all your friends like that?” you asked. You couldn’t help it, the seed had been planted and it was going to nag at you all night if you didn’t just ask him. Besides, there was no harm in it - nothing was ever going to happen between him and you so there was no need to be bashful.
You saw the tug at his cheeks. “Yeah, friends. I stop in every now and then.” He stopped to think a moment. “She got sloppy drunk once but that night was just a mistake all ‘round I reckon.”
“I imagine you have a lot of those,” you mused.
“I’ll never be with a woman too fucked up to enjoy it,” he said shortly. “She came onto me and she was proper embarrassed about it all the next day when I told her what ‘appened, apologized and everythin’.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He shrugged before looking at you with an amused glimmer lighting his eyes. “You’re the one who wanted to know.”
“I never-” your denial faltered. Had you asked him? “You don’t need to tell me about your sex life,” you said quickly, covering up your previous hesitation.
“The glares yeh were givin’ her said otherwise, but don’t go on and blush about it, m’flattered s’all.” The cocky grin broke across his face and the knife you’d felt in your stomach quickly melted by a fire you weren’t quite sure you wanted to acknowledge at the moment.
“Glad we’re inside though, startin’ t’rain now innit?” His eyes never left you, and you felt forced to look outside the windows now wet from their natural shower.
“Yeah,” you sighed. It hit you for a moment where this conversation was going and suddenly you laughed loudly. “I refuse, absolutely refuse, to talk about the weather with you Harry. Let’s…” You reached for your bag that wasn’t there.
“Study,” he finished for you.
It wasn’t there.
“Frick,” you muttered. Harry quirked an eyebrow. “I forgot the books,” you whispered as the realization sunk in. You could’ve sworn you’d brought them to the field, but you’d been in such a rush to get over there and then you’d ran back to put on a light coat of makeup… they were in your bag on your bed. Along with your wallet.
You were an idiot.
Harry hadn’t said anything, but as he took in your crushed face, he barked a laugh and shook his head a bit. “That’s classic, absolutely classic.” Your hand shot out to shove him, but he dodged it and it only made your scowl deepen. “Harry! You’re laughing at your own failed English grade right now,” you whined.
laughter subsided but only after mumbling an unbelievable under his
breath. “S’alright, we can still talk about it yeah? ‘M sure yeh
got loads of stuff in that pretty head o’ yours.” The word pretty slipped
out before he could stop it, and unnoticed by you, everything about him froze.