The Book Of Love -Harry Styles-

*Previously called 'Sexual Education' Now more appropriate* “So let me get this straight. Sweet, smart little London wants me to teach her how to have sex? So that she can lose you virginity before graduation?” Harry asked me, quoting my words. “Look if you don’t want to, forget it.” I attempted walking away, but I was pulled back by the wrist. I looked at Harry and he smirked. “I never said no, but I have a little condition.” He said. “I get to be the one that takes away all of your innocence.” He spoke. I thought about it for a moment, before placing my hand in his. “Deal.”


4. Chapter Four

Sexual Education:


Chapter Four


~London’s P.O.V.~


“We’ve been here for two hours, Harry. I’ve got like eight shopping bags, can we please go get something to eat?” I groaned, my stomach growling shortly after. Harry completely ignored me and pulled me into another store.


“Almost finished.” He says and walks over to a selection of cute dresses. Mini dresses, long dresses, high-low dresses, sun dresses, cocktail dresses, short dresses, dresses for curves, the lot! I looked around and when I saw it, I knew that it was meant to be.


“Harry.” I tap his shoulder and point to the dress. He smirks and reaches up to get the dress off of the hanger. He hands it to me and we walk to the cash register.


“I’ll pay for this one.” Harry says and takes out his wallet, but I stop him instantly and give the lady my credit card. He frowns at me, but I wave him off. “You can buy lunch.” I say and he nods slowly.





“Bye, Harry.” I smile and unlock the car door, pushing it open. As I’m about to get out, my wrist gets tugged back and the impact of Harry’s lips reach mine. I let my hands move to his face and he pulls me closer by the neck. I pull back breathlessly.


“Bye, London.” He smirks and lets me get out. I grab my shopping bags and start walking up the porch, setting down two bags, I pull my keys out from my pocket and unlock the front door. I walk in and the house is silent, but the smell of something burning immediately fills my nostrils.


I set down my bags by the front door and make my way into the kitchen. As I approach closer to the ‘cooking room’, I hear faint sniffling. My brows furrow and I slowly enter the kitchen. There my mom sits by the kitchen bench, head in her hands and her body shaking. My first instinct takes over and I walk over to my mother.


She was in her mid-thirties, but by looking at her, you’ll surely think she’s still in her twenties or early thirties. She works as a lawyer for her own firm and she makes quite good money, but my father is the breadwinner in the house. I scowl at the thought of my father and my arms wrap around the back of my mother, hands moving to her waist. I’m shocked when she jumps out of her seat and pushes me away.


“No.” She cries, not looking up once. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to burn the food, please just… don’t.” She sobbed and I frowned. My feet got closer to her and she finally looked up. I gasped when I saw the large red hand print on the side of her face, a busted lip and tears falling freely.


“Mom, what happened? Did… d-did dad do this to you?” I ask and she shakes her head rapidly. She tries giving me a smile, but it just, makes her look more pained.


“It was an accident.” She says and I narrow my eyes at her.


“Mom! This isn’t an accident! How does his hand accidently slap you across the face?!” I’m steamed. How can my mom still try and protect him? She didn’t clarify that it was him, but I know it was. After last night, I know that the already bruising mark on her cheek has been caused by my father.


“Look,” She started, I cross my arms over my chest and wait for her to continue, “things have been difficult at work, your father can’t seem to solve a case and things are stressful.” She explained and I through my arms up in the air, completely in shock.


“That is no excuse mother! He’s your husband! It doesn’t give him the right to lift his hand to you, or me.” The last part I say softer and my mother looks into my eyes, hers wider than ever.


“W-what?” She stutters. A confused look passes over my expression and that’s when it hit me. Last night, my mom went into the office to finish up some work for a man she’s defending. Apparently the man killed his wife, but claims it was self-defence, but this isn’t the point. She left at about eight and it was around just after eleven that my father had taken his anger out on my pale face. My mom was not here when it happened. She must’ve only came home later.


“L-last night, when you were at work. He came into my room, yelling at me about taking away my college tuition and when I talked back… he, he slapped me.” I say. My hands grab at the cloth on the counter and I walk over to the tap, rinse it with water and then slowly I rub it across my face. Taking the layers of foundation and cover ups with it.


My mother gasped when she saw the red tint on my face and came closer, tears were still littered across her cheeks, but luckily she has stopped crying. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” She whispers and pulls me to her chest, hugging me closely. “why didn’t you tell me?” She continues. I stiffen and pull away.


“I thought you were here when it happened. I thought you knew.” I tell her and she shakes her head.


“What are we going to do, mom?” I ask and she looks into my eyes.


“Nothing. There is nothing we can do, he’s a police officer and-“


“We have to do something! You can’t just let him bitch you arou-“


“London! This is final, you are not to tell anyone about this. Understood?” She looks at me sternly and my mouth falls agape.


“How can you say that?!”


“LONDON! Listen to me! I will sort this out, but you will have no part in this.” She says. I glare at her and shake my head, mumbling a ‘whatever’ as I exit the room. I gather my bags and walk up the stairs and to my room.


I close my bedroom door and pick my cell phone off from my bed, dialing the first number I can think.








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