Tape - nh

❝Here, a couple pieces of tape will fix it.❞ ❝No, it won't.❞ look for the sequel, Superglue


8. 6



Chapter 6, Paintings and Stuff


     "Niall, you're here early." Mr. Redding pointed out as I entered the practically empty classroom. This is why I don't show up to class so early- I'm one of the very few, and my teacher thinks it is acceptable to start a conversation that will not go anywhere as an attempt to gain my respect and avoid the awkward silence they just created for themselves.

     "I'm not late, am I?" I heard a voice ask behind me as I made my way to the easel I use. I turned my head and saw Harry catching his breath as he stood in front of Mr. Redding. Weird, the kid rarely speaks.

     "Nope, right on time, Styles. You have until the bell rings."

     "Thank you so much, Mr. Redding." Harry gushed as he walked to a random easel and set his backpack down.

     I walked to where the paints and brushes were, ignoring the fact that Passive Harry was in the class. I don't have any sort of problem with him at all. I just don't like the fact that he's such a listener and nearly anyone can walk over him. He needs better friends who will stick up for him. Not me, of course, I have enough problems with Dumb One and Dumb Two or Peter and Adrian.

     "Oh, hi, Niall. I didn't know you were taking art." I almost choked on my saliva and dropped the paintbrush I had picked out on the floor. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He sounded so hesitant, poor kid.

     "Hey, Harry. Don't worry about it." I answered after picking up the brush and wiping it on my jeans. I swear, the janitors don't do their job in this school.

     "Um, okay, thanks. And, uh, I was wondering," He looked me dead in the eye as he spoke, but I could tell he was nervous. Why is he so nervous? He's the last person I'd push aside and ignore. I like Harry. I should talk to him more before we graduate next year. "Can I ask you some questions?"

     "Of course, but why don't you move next to me and we can talk while we work."

     "Great, thanks! You're so much nicer than how everyone says you are." I quirked an eyebrow as he sat his paints and brushes at the easel beside me before walking away to retrieve his backpack.

     "What does everyone say?" I asked as he walked back and took a seat. He shrugged.

     "It's all basically the same. You're an inconsiderate, stubborn jerk. That's the censored version." Poor, innocent Harry. He needs a girlfriend.

     "Oh, well they hit the nail on the head. So what did you want to ask?"

     "You won't laugh, right?"

     "Never in a million years."


     "You're going to live with me and a few others in my dystopia."

    "What?" He asked confused. I closed my eyes and cursed under breath for speaking my thoughts out loud.


     "Thanks? Anyways, first I want to say sorry about what happened with Samantha."

     "No worries. She's going to burn me on stake if she isn't first."

     "Oh, excuse me for prying, but was it bad?"

     "She stabbed me repeatedly with her harsh words. Come to think of it, I forgot she broke up with me. I never liked her."

     "But you were together? Everyone likes her." I shrugged.

     "She's psycho and fake."

     "I can see that... unfortunately. I wanted to ask, since I know you're good with girls, like talking and stuff, how do I get a girl to talk to me if she doesn't know I exist?"

     "Slow down there, how do you know she doesn't know that you exist? I think the whole school knows you do." Harry chuckled.

     "You're very nice, Niall. No one really notices the quiet guy and I'm surprised you're talking to me right now."

     "Harry, I always notice you. You seem like a decent guy who just needs to speak up more. That's it, really. Have you tried saying hi to her? Who is this girl?"

     "She's... her... her name is Cheyanne."

     "Cheyanne... She's the one who always has a question about things. She talks quite a bit, too, in a good way. She's pretty and nice. I have Algebra with her."

     "She... she is."

     "Just talk to her. There's no way she'd have a problem with you."

     "That's it?"

     "There's no secrets or codes, Harry. It's literally that simple."

     Harry nodded and gave it some thought as he looked at his canvas. I had been painting as we spoke and he had painted, what I assumed, was grass and a sun. He started adding a sky, sticking the tip of his tongue out as he concentrated on his piece and my words. I looked back at my canvas and stared at the black circles I painted. I furrowed my brows and rested my chin on my fist as I thought of the next step to my painting.

     "Should I ask her to homecoming? It's next week." Harry asked and I quickly sat up and looked at him.

     "I forgot about that. Um, I'm not sure. What do you think? Would she want to go?"

     "She's gone to every football game so far since we were freshman." I stared blankly at him, not because what he said was freaky, but because he's liked her since freshman year and never tried making a move. Poor, poor Harry.

     "Dude, ask her. Just don't even think about it, ask her."

     "You sure?"

     "I'm positive." I assured.

     "Thanks, Niall."

     "I'm always here, bud."

     Harry smiled, but didn't say anything. For the rest of the time, he continued on with his painting while I sat in frustration and annoyance because my 'revenge' plan was going nowhere at this rate. Why did I paint freaking black circles? What are their purpose? How does this represent Carmen? And then I had an idea, an amazing one. I went to grab another paint and found an ugly yellow color. On one of the black circles, I decided to put yellow over it and change the color. It didn't look that great, but that was my point. When I first saw Carmen, she had an ugly yellow sweater on.

     All the pieces suddenly fit together in my head at that moment while I stared at the wannabe yellow circle. I'm using tape to write Carmen's nickname on the painting. This is brilliant and I'm a genius! And all my teachers think of me as a failure who's lucky to be just passing their class.

     "I like your painting, but what does it mean?" Harry asked while I was smiling from my thoughts.

     "It's Carmen. She's the yellow dot because not only was her sweater an ugly color when I first saw her, but she's completely different than anyone I've met before. I'm going to tape her nickname across to finish it, just like she did on her locker. I saw her do it and I know she has this weird obsession with tape."

     "Wow, that's really good. She's going to love it."


     "Well, yeah. I know it's for the partner thing, but it's perfect. I'm guessing that's one reason you're happy Samantha broke up with you."


     "I hope it all works out." Harry smiled as he put the final touches on his painting and handed it over to Mr. Redding.

     As Harry cleaned up, I sat at my easel thinking of a million reasons as to why he's so wrong. He left before I could tell him that I don't like Carmen and I'm not painting this ridiculous piece for her. I'm painting it to make fun of her. That's different. I mean, I don't like her and she refuses to leave my head which infuriates me. She's annoying and weird. Why would he think I like her? Besides, I know she hates me.


omfg, I just loved writing Harry in this. like whoa, next book is going to be really awesome.


and lordy lorde, I was sooooo tempted to put a narry gif, but I stopped myself. hope you enjoy the niall one and my apologies if it's just a pic bc that's lame. this was for you @harry_(heart)

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