The Perfect Match 15+ (Completed)

Summary: Niall Horan is the epitome of bad news. After his mother passes away, he finds himself in the battle with drugs and alcohol. With jeopardy of not graduating his senior year, his teacher Ms. Aleman pairs him with tutor Aubrey Osborn, daughter of a man who may know Niall a bit too well. Ms. Aleman thinks Aubrey and Niall are the perfect match, but their histories beg to differ. On top of it, Aubrey is applying to the most competitive schools in the nation, while Niall could care less about a higher education. Two teenagers. Two hearts. Two stories. Will it be the perfect match?

i'm not responsible for the bad language & sexual scenes. it's left upon yourself to read this fan-fic. your choice, not mine. (:
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This Isn't My Fanfic >.<
Here Is The Authors Tumblr Page Link : http://elouvator.tumblr.com
I Just Really Liked The Story (:

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12. Chapter 12 (:

Aubrey’s P.O.V

I grab another heavy book from my locker and level it between my arms. Curse my English teacher for forcing us to bring our books to class everyday. Not as if we were going to read The Scarlet Letter for once, most of the students would fall asleep within the first minute anyway. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but seriously, the only people who are ever awake for the lectures are Zayn and I. Suddenly, a heap of muscles bumps into me and knocks my belongings out of my arms. I turn and see Harry Styles towering over me. Louis stands behind him with his hands buried in his pockets. It had been days since we spoke, but I mean, he has his life now, and I have mine. His eyes are dark and insolent as I lower myself to gather my belongings. He laughs to himself and continues to stalk to his class as his brainless posse follows him. I never liked his friends anyway, but I thought we would be adults about it.

“Aubrey, are you alright?” a voice wavers. I turn and see Niall whose face is washed with worry. He glares down the hallway and curses Louis under his breath. “What the hell did he—?”

“Let it go,” I shrug, “they hate me…even if he cheated on me. It makes no sense.” I shove the book into my bag and sigh heavily. I hate to complain, but being the girlfriend of Louis Tomlinson made life a bit easier. I never had to worry about being bullied or rejected. Everyone sort of liked me because I dated Louis, and now that I didn’t, everyone could care less about me. I’m not asking for a redo with Louis, but I mean, being liked, even if it was pretend, never hurt.

“Hey,” Niall says and presses his lips to my forehead gently, “I like you, alright? You have me now.”

“Yeah, but Niall, in a few months, if I get accepted into Columbia University,” I sigh, “who will be my friends? Louis and I were going to be together, and now what? Do I go there lonely and miserable? How will I find my place around New York? What about you? Where are you applying for college?”

“Baby, calm down,” he says and tucks a tendril of my hair behind my ear, “I will be your friend no matter where you go, alright? Besides, what do you mean if you get accepted? You are going to be accepted because you are intelligent and the sweetest girl I know, alright, Aubrey? Have a bit of hope in yourself, would you? It will be fine, I promise.”

“You never answered the last bit,” I mumble crossing my arms. He drops his hand from my face and lowers his eyes.

“Where am I applying for college?” he repeats. “Oh…well, Aubrey, I never really planned on going to college…”

“What do you mean you never really planned on going to college?” I ask. “Niall, college is important, you have to apply!”

“Think about it, Aubrey,” he snaps, “who the hell would accept me? My grades are horrible, I have no money for it, and my criminal record lowers my hopes to none!”

“Criminal record? What is on your criminal record?”

 

His eyes pierce mine as he realizes he unreasonably snapped on me. A part of him is mad, but another part of him is…scared? I’m not sure. It hurts to see Niall without hope though. Once again, he really is intelligent with a bit of motivation. I mean, he understood isotopes within an hour, and most of the students I tutor need days.

“I, um, had a fight,” he mumbles shifting his feet uncomfortably, “with a friend during school. It ended up on my criminal record, I guess.”

“Niall, if you can prove to colleges you are the intelligent, kind, and beautiful person you are, no one will care about your fight, alright?” I wrap my arms around him and toy with the blonde hair near the nape of his neck. With Louis, he had his life together. I never had to worry about his grades or potential. He would be fine without me, but with Niall, I have the urge to help him. I feel the need to fix him, not because he needs to be, but because I know his potential, and I believe in him more than he probably does himself. “Today, during our tutor session, we can put aside an hour or so to begin a few applications.”

“Alright,” he sighs, “but no promises about college. I have a lot to discuss with Greg before I make the decision.” He leans his lips forward with his burly arms holding my pile of crap. He is about to fulfill my urging lips until the tapping of heels turn our heads around. He sighs and runs his fingers through his blonde hair frustrated.

“Mr. Horan,” Ms. Aleman snaps as the bell rings, “no snogging in the hallways! Now, come on, I am sure Aubrey has a class to attend to as well.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall groans boyishly. I giggle and press my lips to his temple before running off to class.

Ah, English, the best and worst part of my day. I like English because it hardly differs from photography. I mean, photography is basically English in a frame. In both classes, you find the struggle and beauty of life and stage it through a medium. On the other hand, English is boring unless you’re an English junkie. The other students settle into their desks, and I find mine in the front row near Liam Payne, one of the English junkies I met last year. We work a lot on projects together because unlike the other students, we value our grades nowadays. However, I find him absent and pray for no group assignments today.

“Class, settle down,” my English teacher announces, “have a seat because today we will be discussing symbolism in The Scarlet Letter.” The entire class groans, including me. “I know, it sucks, huh? Get into pairs and with your partner, find five examples of Hawthorne using symbolism to emphasize a theme. You have thirty minutes, and we will discuss it before we leave.”

My eyes wander the room for a partner, but the other students are unsurprisingly pairing with their usual partners. I sigh heavily and rummage in my bag for my book. Oh, crap, I left it in my locker. Today sucks.

“Hey, do you need a partner?” a voice offers. I raise my eyes from my bag to see Zayn, who taps his book against his hand awaiting my response.

“Um, yeah, sure,” I nod. He pulls a seat forward and opens his book. “I, uh, I sort of forgot my book.”

“We can share,” he shrugs and sets the book in a position for both of us to read, “but Aubrey, before we begin, I actually needed to ask you something.” I nod for him to continue and he closes the book with his thumb wedged between it to hold the page. “You, uh, are you serious…I mean, your relationship with Niall, is it serious?”

“Definitely,” I nod, “we’ve only been dating for a week now, but I already like him…a lot.” I fiddle with the pendant around my neck worriedly. Daddy was right, I never let it go when I need help.

“I’m just worried about him,” Zayn explains, “I mean, you just got out of a long relationship with Louis. Are you sure you’re over him? Not to mention, there is a lot about Niall you have yet to learn, but I don’t want to butt into your relationship. I’m just worried for him.”

“I’m over Louis, I promise, but what do you mean there is a lot about Niall I have yet to learn?”

“I guess I’m being paranoid. I’m surprised you were able to handle the news about his arrest,” he says, “if you were able to handle that, you’ll be fine when he tells you—”

“The arrest?” I repeat. “He got arrested for the fight he had? Daddy told me fights were never serious enough for an arrest.”

“What fight?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Wait, if you’re not talking about the fight, then why else did Niall get arrested?” His eyes widen as if he already said enough.

“Oh, the fight…yeah, I meant the fight, but I guess it slipped my mind! Anyway, we should get to work,” he says changing the subject. He opens the book to the page his finger held, and his eyes wander the book aimlessly. “Page seventeen has a lot of symbolism about the scarlet letter the protagonist is forced to wear.”

“What does it symbolize?” I ask.

“Secrets,” he says, “the protagonist is hiding a lot of secrets.”

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