Mr. Styles » H.S.

Mara Zaragoza has never been the person of quite confidence. On her first day of at Portland University, she encounters with her Literature professor - Mr. Harry Styles. Who's a charmer and has expensive taste. Dealing with her anxiety and not accepting who she is, Mr. Styles brings out the best of her. With misunderstandings, finding love again, and completely bringing out the best of each other. Mara finds that her deepest affection in life is found in the one and only - Mr. Styles.

Copyright © 2014 || All Rights Reserved


20. Nineteen

I woke up the next morning to go with dad to work. It was my idea. A month and a half back at home, and I'm tired of the same routine. I sat with Susan his receptionist. Filing papers and answering calls. I've done this before, so nothing is quite new. 

Zayn finally texted me his selfie with the Eiffel Tower. He moved in with a friend that he met at the internship. Her name's Perrie, and one day he'd like to introduce me to her. Jade's back in town and she visited me for quite some time. She's back at Portland—moving into the sorority house. Jade even bought me some cool anime and Ghibli souvenirs from Tokyo. I was wearing one of them—a t-shirt of Howl and Sophie. She cut her hair while she was over there. A pixie cut; now she looks like a fairy and anime character.

I left dad's work early. I was bored out of my mind to hear Susan complain about her back and how none of her kids visit her anymore. Poor woman. Anyways, I've received a few postcards from Harry the past month. From places like France, Spain, Ireland, Australia, and even Russia. He's doing some traveling, and business of his own. Sometimes I wonder what is that business. I have all the postcards in my tin box where I keep everything else. I have Zayn's necklace, some photos of us, Harry's necklace and his postcards. I take the bus back home. Putting on my earbuds, I lean my head against the window, and watch the whole world turn into a blur. I've gone to a few therapy sessions with the Doc, and I think my life is slowly unraveling. Dr. Octavia and I have this chart that shows how I've been doing. It goes up and down because that's how life is—life isn't a straight line going up, sometimes we have to fail in order pick ourselves up. 

When the bus stops a block away from my house, I walk the rest back. I love walking. Another hobby or therapy exercise Doc has me doing. I wake up every 4 o'clock in the morning and walk. I hate running because people stare at my body jiggle and everything. It helped me clear my mind and feel more productive. I get home, and I'm greeted my Paloma and Blanca running towards me at the door. Walking to the kitchen, I place my bag on the counter and head over to the sink for a glass of water. The window above the sink looks over the lake and the deck. I fill my glass with water, and when I'm looking out the window—someone's standing on the deck. When they turn and smile that Cheshire cat smile—I put my glass of water down and run to the back door. Then down the stairs; making sure I don't trip and roll down. At the deck, he's already walking toward me. The breeze flapping his sheer shirt that's half way button. Hair up in a bun and he's wearing jean shorts with old Vans. I walk my way down the deck, wiping the tears that haven't fallen. 

I'm face-to-face with him. "My Mara," he says as he closes the space between us. His arms wrapping around my waist—hugging me tightly. My arms flung around his neck, pulling him closer to me. I nuzzle my face on the crook of his neck. Inhaling the scent of him: mint and cologne. I feel his lips kiss my shoulder and up toward my neck. He's here. 

We pull apart and laugh at ourselves. "I just got your postcard from Russia," I said breathless. "I thought you'd be in London." Harry takes my face in between his hands, and kisses my nose. "I came back to Portland for you. Mara, my family wants to meet you." My heart stopped beating and nerves started to boil inside. His family? I stepped back for a catch of fresh air. My nose twitched as I sneezed loudly. Oh yes, I forgot—allergies towards cologne. "Y-Your family?" I manage to say. Harry nods excitedly. All the happiness inside me vanished—hearing the word family just blew me off. He came back for me and then take me to London to meet his family. "I-I don't think I'm ready," I say towards myself. Harry takes my hand, and kisses the knuckles. He rubs his thumb and kisses my hand. "You won't do this on your own, baby girl. I'm going to be there."

He didn't convince me entirely. I was still in shock because we were leaving tomorrow in the morning. Plus to make matters a little more anxious—tonight was dinner with dad and his new lady friend. And I'll be introducing Harry, for the first time to my dad. I took small breathes—pacing across my room as Harry took a quick shower. Meeting people isn't really on my favorite top ten. I was ready to break down and fall to my knees. I took two of my anxiety pills and tried to calm down a little. "Keep it together," I told myself. I heard the front door open; dad calling my name out. Then Harry turned off the shower, and walked out with only a towel wrapped around his waist. I stare at him with wide eyes. He smirks down at me. 

"You like what you see?" He teases as he pulls me closer.
"Ew, stop—you're wetting me."
"Do I make you wet?"
"Haha, very funny. Hurry and change." I told him as I walk out the room.

"Mara," dad calls out.
"I'm here."
"Did you reserve the table for tonight?"
"Yeah. For four."
"Dad …"
"Mr. Zaragoza, I'm Harry Styles."

I dreaded life at the moment. Feeling Harry's hand grab my waist and stretched his arm out to shake hands with dad. Dad looked at me and back at Harry. "Mr. Harry Styles, pleasure to finally meet you." I saw the way dad stared at him. Half death and half relieved. "Pleasure is all mine." Harry spoke softly. Dad went to take a quick shower and Harry and I were in my room. Door open even though I'm twenty. We sat on the edge of the bed, intertwining our fingers and sharing our deepest thoughts. 

"I haven't kissed you since I came back."
I flushed. "I think I've forgotten the taste of your lips against mine."
"Then let me remind you."

Harry's lips touched mine softly and carefully. His hand cupped my cheek and both my hands against his chest. It felt like months since I've kissed him. Tender and passionate. His tongue slipped in and I can taste the mint and lemon. Sweet and fresh. One of my hands slipped under his shirt and I began to feel him. His other hand rubbed against my bare thigh under neath the dress I wore. The kiss began to heat up when he straddle me on the bed. His hand rubbing against the fabric of my panties and I began to unbutton the rest of his sheer shirt. My hand touched every line of his body, down to the hem of his pants and my hand accidentally slipped and touched something … hard. I gasped into his mouth. Bringing my hand up to his chest. Harry and I were catching our breathes. He chuckled as he saw how embarrassed I was. He kisses my jaw, down neck, and to my ear—leaving a trail of wet kisses. 

"You make me so hard Miss Mara." His hot breath whispered against my ear. "You can please me later, but now it's time for dinner."

He got off of me and helped me sit up on the bed. I fixed my hair, lowered my dress and he buttoned his shirt half way up again. Dad called out our names from the door. I can still feel my face heat up and my heart beating against my chest. Please me later. His voice still hummed in my ear. I panic a little as I sat at the backseat and Harry at the passengers seat talking with dad. About my trip tomorrow to London, and how it's a great idea for me to go out of the country. Besides, I wasn't worried about that. What's the first thing to pleasing him? I haven't done anything like this. My hand touching his bulge was a mistake—I didn't mean it like that. I accidentally touched it. I closed my eyes and counted to ten—breathing in and out slowly. Is it possible to get a panic attack over this? It's silly isn't? With my eyes still shut, I leaned against the cold window and lost myself in a deep nap.


We arrived at the restaurant the same time Dad's special lady friend did. She was pretty. Her dark hair reached her shoulders, and small tiny freckles spotted her face. She was as tall as dad, and had very long arms. She introduced herself as Mariam—pretty name for a pretty face. I introduced her to Harry, as a friend. As I did, I can feel his whole mood change. I mean—we are friends aren't we. The only thing we've been are lovers with an unstable relationship. We ordered dinner and she told us a little about herself. She's a journalist and chief editor for the Portland Journal, and a part time dog walker. Her and dad met when she was so close to getting a plastic surgery. Dad let his heart and soul to her that day, and she never felt so beautiful ever since. Cliché, maybe. The oddest part of the conversation was that she recognized Harry from somewhere. Harry denied her, telling her she might confuse him with someone. "But, I'm sure I saw you in a magazine. I swear." Mariam sounded so sure, that I questioned myself that it could be true.

Harry has the face and name for the fame. But at the same time, it couldn't be possible. I mean what could Harry be known for. Not for his old band or being a great baker. He was attractive yes; maybe a model. But Harry never stood still for a photo—he's all over the place. I looked over at Harry, who wasn't even paying any attention. He looked around the place as if someone was watching him. Then he excused himself from the table, with his phone already in his hand. My heart sank. There was another, I thought. I mean—it was only obvious it could be. Or maybe, I'm just over exaggerating again. I can trust him again, I told myself. 

When our food came, Harry wasn't at the table yet. Dad asked the waiter, if he saw Harry. The waiter said that he walked into the men's restroom. Dad went to go check on him; leaving Mariam and I alone with the food. "Mara, can I tell you something?" She asked in a low whisper. "You're a lucky girl to have a man like Harry. Your father told me good things about him. You like him?" My face blushed a deep red. I small smile appeared across my lips—thinking how much I really liked him and that I'd do anything for him. "I do, very much." I told her. Her hand is placed under her chin and she looks at me with adoration of a mother. "I hope you know Mara. Of how lucky he is to have someone like you." As she said that both dad, and Harry came back to the restroom. Apparently there was only one stall working in the restroom and a long line. Harry placed a hand on his thigh, rubbing it as usual. He leaned in, placing one small peck on my cheek. The smell of mint and cologne—brings back memories. I was falling for him—all over again.


Is this short? Feel like it is.

Anyway, tonight I grant you all two chapters for Mr. Styles,

and one for POSH.

Please comment, like, and favorite.

xx, ISA

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