NOVEMBER.

"Ana Grace, will you hurry up?"

"Stop rushing me, will you?"

I ran my fingertips over the curve in the wood of the shelf, having been worn away at due to the heavy weights resting on them.

I picked up a book, lifting the cover and running my thumb over the first page, before putting it back with an exasperated sigh.

"Look, I'm getting 'Gatsby," Harry spoke from behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder, "and you can borrow it when I'm done, yeah? But since you're so adamant to get back to school for the afternoon, we need to get a move on."

I groaned, tempted to drift back to Pride and Prejudice, despite finishing it months ago, but instead I followed Harry to the front desk, him placing his book onto the counter. Hugo muttered something to him I couldn't distinguish, Harry fiercely shaking his head in response before reaching into the back pocket to fish out some money to pay. I didn't make the mistake of offering him even a dollar this time - not since weeks ago when I'd tried, and he had labelled it as patronizing.

I bit my lip as he pushed a few crumpled dollar bills onto the table, followed by several quarters. Hugo eyed him before reluctantly taking the money, while Harry snatched up the book and headed straight for the door.

I waved Hugo goodbye quickly, rushing after Harry as he gripped his book tightly in his hands.

"Slow down, asshole, we have another twenty minutes before class starts," I called, causing Harry to slow down and turn back to me.

"Oh, you know me - I'm incredibly eager to get to Chemistry," he smirked playfully, and I chose not to question how his discomfort had suddenly been lifted.

I couldn't help but grin at him - the way he stood book in hand, wearing only a grey Henley with the first button undone and his black skinny jeans with a large tear in one knee, despite the cold winter air. His boots became more tattered day by day, his hair growing much longer - his bandana now nowhere to be seen as his hair became much more unruly.

"Quit staring, Ana Levin, we're going to be late," his smirk deepened, nodding his head back in the direction of school before he continued to walk. I caught up with him quickly; he had considerably differed from how he would speed down the street with his long strides - he waited up for me, now, knowing my legs were too short to keep up with his own.

We made our way back into school, the bell ringing to signal the end of lunch, as we headed straight to our class.

"Your place after school? Mum said your parents aren't home and I don't have a housekey anyway," he murmured into my ear as we settled in our seats. I nodded, grabbing a pen out of my bag.

Over the past couple of months, Harry and I had become nothing but closer - despite the odd spiff, I found myself so incredibly emerged into a relationship with Harry and I. Not only had my trust in him built further - I'd like to think his had built with me. He wouldn't open up much - though technically he already had - and he wouldn't tell me too much - a day hadn't gone by I didn't enjoy with Harry. He would meet me either before class started, or just in time for lunch, and then again after school most days he'd come back to my house, since Celia was there anyway.

My parents had yet to meet Harry, and I refused to dwell on that too much, since I knew they would be incredibly judgemental to whichever friend I plucked up the courage to bring home. I knew it was inevitable they'd see him; meet him, and make him uncomfortable. And I wasn't ready for that - I wasn't ready for them to make him leave, so for now - I was incredibly grateful they worked so much. Harry was somebody I wanted in my life, I couldn't even begin to explain how much I wanted him in my life.

I felt my eyes drift over to the corner of the classroom, where Sadie and Jake sat together, his lips at her neck. I rolled my eyes, the pure annoyance too much for me; I hadn't spoken to the two of them since I'd confronted them about Harry's friend, Caleb.

"You're delusional, fucking hell," Sadie spat, "nobody forced him to fucking kill himself, did they?"

"You're sick," I wrinkled my nose, Louis standing silently on Sadie's left, and Jake obnoxiously on the right.

"Just go back to Styles, huh? He's your temporary fuck, isn't he?"

Harry wrapped an arm around my waist, his fingertips edging under my sweatshirt to press into the skin of my hip, "Stop thinking about it."

"'m sorry," I muttered, resting my chin in my hand.

"Shut up, Ana," he smiled softly, grabbing a pen of his own.

The rest of class consisted of Harry poking and prodding at me with every chance he got, whispering into my ear when the class would fall silent in attempts to make me laugh, or blush, while also capturing my attention to distract me from whatever dirty looks Sadie attempted to shoot at me.

The note-taking part was pretty unsuccessful.

After what felt like forever, dismissal finally came around, and I shoved my stuff into my bag quickly, standing up from my desk. Sadie and Jake had each other's tongues down their throats, yet again, and I wondered how these teachers never seemed to notice.

"Come on," Harry nudged my shoulder, heading for the door beside me and pushing it open.

I spotted the black SUV from the second we stepped outside, and as I headed for the the vehicle, Harry reached up to grab my arm.

"Hey, I'm gonna walk today, if that's okay," he told me, pulling my coat tighter around me.

"What? Why? What's wrong?" I frowned.

"Nothing's wrong, Ana, you worry too much," he chuckled, stuffing his hands in his own pockets, "I just want to have a smoke, and I doubt your butler would be so willing for me to smoke in his car."

"Okay," I nodded, "I'll see you at my place, then?"

He narrowed his eyes, a smile spreading across his features, "What, you're not gonna keep me company?"

"I'm too tired to walk," I pouted.

"Too lazy, you mean," he laughed, running a hand through his hair which now neared shoulder-length.

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes as I let him tug me by my wrist down the street towards my house.

The walk wasn't long - less than ten minutes, maybe. Within seconds, Harry had a cigarette between his lips, offering me one which I found myself accepting.

"Y'know," he spoke, taking the cigarette into his hand for a moment while his smirk grew on his face, "for somebody who doesn't smoke, you sure do smoke a fucking lot."

"You wanna talk about smoking a lot?" I raised my eyebrow as a playful smile spread across my face.

Harry stopped, reaching for my waist to tug me into his chest, our faces inches away, the familiar butterflies which always made themselves known when Harry touched me beginning to creep into my stomach. He brought his lighter between us, lighting both of our cigarettes before releasing me and continuing to walk.

"Don't make me talk too much, we don't want my lungs to give up on me," he smirked as I smacked his chest playfully, knowing that one of my concerns with him smoking so much was the damage he was doing on himself.

"You'll be dead before you're twenty," I retorted.

"Mm, you'd better make the most of me then," he teased, taking another drag as I took one from mine - well, attempted to. I hadn't exactly mastered this whole smoking thing, and I didn't particularly intend to.

When we'd finally reached my house, I swung the door open, shouting a hello to Celia as I dumped my bag onto the floor, Harry following suit.

"Oh - is Harry with you, darling?" she asked, coming into the kitchen, "oh, good - hello, sweetheart, how was school?" she asked Harry brightly, with which he didn't return.

"Peachy," was all he muttered, and I nudged his shoulder, "Great, Mum, thanks."

As we headed upstairs to my room, I turned back to him, "you should be nicer to your mom, Harry."

"I am nice to her," he argued, and I sighed. I pushed open the door to my room, flopping down onto my bed as he headed for the chair I often found him sitting in.

"You avoid conversation with her at all times," I argued gently, not wanting to push him.

"We're not close," he said matter-of-factly, and I sat up, pushing myself off the bed so I could walk over to my desk where Harry sat. I pulled myself up to sit on it, Harry remaining in his chair, now positioned between my knees.

"Just try," I murmured, pushing my hands up his shoulders to rest my fingertips at the nape of his neck - there was no denying the newfound constant urge I had to touch Harry, and the constant desire for him to touch me. And there was also no doubt he was more than a mere friend to me, despite the labelling of it. Yes, he was my friend, and yes, I was his. But there were times where that wretched title would slip from my mind entirely, and he was just - him.

"Mm," he mumbled in return, tilting his head up to look at me, his palms pressing gently into my sides, "I'll try," he promised, and though I doubted he meant it, I nodded.

"Thank you," I smiled down at him, before releasing my grip on the back of his neck. I reached across to the side of my desk, opening up the record player I'd put on the table the night before.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, tearing his eyes from me to look at the player - encased in a jet-black box lined with red velvet.

"My father would play music from it when I was a little kid," I explained, grazing my fingers over the velvet lining, "I loved it so much. I found it in his closet last night, and I figured since it was just gathering dust I'd put it to use in here."

"What were you doing in your dad's closet?" a look of humor on his face.

"Is that even a question?" I grinned, "I snoop when I'm bored."

Harry watched me closely, his teeth grazing his lip, "What've you got, then?" his hands moving from my waist to rest on my knees which hung over the desk.

I shrugged, "Haven't got around to that part, yet."

He pushed himself away from the desk, the wheels on the chair gliding across the floor before he got to his feet, towering over me once more. He reached around me to sift through the pile of records that lay stacked beside the record player, his tongue poking the hollow of his cheek as he muttered the album titles under his breath.

"Fleetwood Mac," he read audibly this time, turning to lock eyes with me, "You like them?"

"When I was younger, I did, yeah," I smiled, jumping down from my spot on the table, walking to stand beside Harry, "It's been a while since I've listened to them, though."

"Mm," Harry hummed, sliding the vinyl from its packaging and laying it onto the platter, and lowering the needle onto it, flicking the switch for the music to play.

As the first note sounded, I let my head fall back with a wide smile growing on my face, and instantly I felt the most relaxed I had in weeks.

"I love this song so much," I laughed, as the grin grew on Harry's face, the song building, Harry playfully belting out some of the notes while I continued to laugh.

"Dance with me," I told him, using his shirt to pull him closer to me as I grinned.

He blew out a breath, stiffening up slightly under my touch, "I don't dance, Ana Grace."

"You do now," I continued to grin.

"No, I don't."

"Harry Styles, dance with me right now."

Harry blew out another breath, a smile breaking through his sigh as he wound his arm around my waist, relaxing into my touch now, "Okay, Ana Grace, okay."

-

it's raining as i write this