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

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14. Thirteen

Part II

 

Fall semester went to winter classes, and now it's spring semester. I have spent all my time with Zayn, Louis and Niall, and Jade. Spending it at the café every night and having dinners at each other's place. Zayn and I have been going out since that day in my apartment. November, I think. Fall semester wasn't a great end for me—honestly. Literature class was the hardest of all. Seeing Harry—Mr. Styles—every day in that class was torture, and I had to sacrifice every moment to get up and go to class. I can never look at him anymore. It hurts. I cried myself to sleep because his image haunts me at night. But I couldn't continue a relationship with him. He's so uptight, and short tempered. I deleted all contact with him. I even returned the textbooks he gave me. I donated the $10,000 worth outfit to Goodwill. I'm so glad I didn't have pictures of him or any piece of clothing. I wanted to move on but I feel like he's hiding every corner. Or I'll bump into him in the halls at uni. I checked if he was going to teach this semester. He wasn't. It was like he was a figment I made up.   

Zayn moved in during New Years. There's more color in my apartment, and in my life. He's turn half of the studio into his own art studio. I love watching him sketch or spray paint a canvas. His face is so concentrated on the image, that I love to sit by him and watch. He doesn't get intimidated. By the way, he's sketch a few portraits of me. I've modeled for him, with clothes or a bed sheet over my body. To be honest, this was the type of relationship I wanted with Harry. Simple and filled with love and admiration. I felt that it wasn't enough for Harry and I. But the past is in the past.   

It was the end of January. Tomorrow will be my birthday: first of February. I'll be finally twenty. As well as of tonight, Jade and I will be attending to Zayn's next art gallery show. It'll be in Seattle. That's why we're leaving now. Jade and I got into her Ford. Road trip with the best friend; there's nothing better. I was already wearing what I am going to wear at the gallery show. Black dress pants, with a navy blue dress shirt, and a black blazer. Along with black and shined ballet flats, and I painted my nails a baby blue color. My hair was cut short, and I had a small fringe. I wore a small piece of jewelry that Zayn gave me; a gemstone. Amethyst to be precise. Beautiful necklace. He gave it to me the night I gave myself to him.   

On the freeway, I made sure to take my medications. I still had my issues even after I left Harry. He's moved on, if you wondered. With the red hair from Literature class. I've seen them together. As they pass by the bookstore I still work at; by the way I'm assistant manager. He does it in purpose. Harry knows I work there at the time both of them pass by. He thinks I'll be jealous that he's now happy; I'll let him wonder. I'm happy though. With Zayn it's that kind of happiness when you walk into the ice cream shop, and they stocked a new carton of vanilla flavor ice cream. I'll never regret leaving Harry. He deserved that really. Enough about him; Jade and I arrived at the studio Zayn was having his show at.   

Louis and Niall were just waiting outside when we got out the car. "Lassies," Niall greeted us. "At last you arrived. We were beginning to worry you were stuck in traffic."  I hook my arm around his and Jade hooked hers with Louis's. "If we were, we wouldn't be here." Jade told them. There was so many people out queuing to get in. I never thought this much people were interested to seeing Zayn's paintings. We got in first because we are personal friends, and plus ones. The show didn't start in thirty minutes; Zayn was still setting up his paintings up on the walls. A lot of these were sketches, graffiti art, oil paintings and cartoon drawings that he'll demonstrate soon. Louis and Niall went to go greet Zayn. The moment he saw me, he made his way through and spun me around. The studio turning into a blur. He put me down and his lips landed on mine; a small sweet peck on the lips.   

"I'm so glad you're here. I was worried you wouldn't make."  

"Seattle traffic isn't that bad. Besides I'm always here to support my artistic boyfriend."  

Two minutes before the show began, and an ungrateful feeling twisted in my chest. I never felt like this since that day; I closed my eyes and murmured a small prayer that nothing horrible happens tonight. Zayn asks me to join him on his speech. I don't have to talk; he just wanted me beside him as moral support. In seconds he left my side, being pulled by all these journalists and photographers. Jade disappeared somewhere, Niall and Louis were out trying to get dates. So I grabbed a small glass of punch and walked to the section of his sketches. Nothing seemed organic than looking at actual pencil sketches. There were some of Niall and Louis, Jade, his family, Hera (his pitbul), self portraits, and portraits of me. I was still fascinated on how he drew every single detail. The curls, the mole on right the upper side of my cheek, the iris in my eyes, and just every thing. I was staring at a portrait of me from the side-angle. Sometimes I couldn't believe that I actually looked like that. Zayn made me look too good; I believe the women in front of me is an imposter. I didn't realize someone else was looking at the sketch next to me. They were a little to close that I could smell their cologne. A whiff of that, and I began to sneeze. One sneeze after the other; geez so embarrassing. The person standing next to me was kind enough to hand me their handkerchief. "Are you feeling alright Miss Mara?" My heart froze at the tone of voice. An accent so posh and strong and deep; I thought I would have forgotten about it. Slowly I turn my gaze toward them. I swallow every bit of dignity I had left. Just as I met eyes to a pair of green eyes; my sight goes hazy. This can't be happening. Not tonight. Not when I had sorted my life out. I can feel my chest tighten. Anxiety beginning to rise. Harry stood right in front of me. His curls no longer curls in that long hair that past a bit off his shoulders. He dresses up more fancier and elegant for the occasion. A cross hung around his neck. My god, he looked older.    

What was he doing here? Why was he here?   

I hope not to ruin it for Zayn. He worked so hard for this art show. I hand back Harry his handkerchief, feeling his fingers brush against mine. "Wh-what are you d-d-doing here?" I managed to say. My knees were weak and my breath was ready to give out. I couldn't handle this. I look all around me but everything was a blur. I was ready to pass out. My body giving up on me. "I want you back Mara." He whispers getting closer to me. I stopped him holding my arm out in front of me. Feeling the cold cement of the pillar against my back; tears are falling down my face. I didn't realize I was crying. "Pl-please leave m-m-m-me alone." I slid down to the floor, and my sight turns to black.   

Alcohol is the first sign that shows I'm still alive. My flutter my eyes open to see Zayn kneeling beside me. A warm towel placed on my forehead. A breeze pasts between us, it took me minutes to know we were outside. In a small patio out of the studio, I laid across a bench; Zayn's jacket replacing a pillow. I try to sit up, but god I was weak. Zayn's hand cups the side of my face, his thumb wiping away all the dry tears. He kisses my forehead. "Baby, you frightened me back there. What happened?" He asked me. I swallowed the truth cause that was the last thing I wanted to tell him. "Lack of oxygen," I breathed out. "It was too warm in there. I'm sorry I scared you." I took his hand from my face and bought it to my lips. Kissing his knuckles one by one. In the pit if my stomach, everything began to hurt. All the memories I stored away came back to bite me. My heart that was once healed bled from the wound I got tonight. It wasn't my hallucination. He was actually there.   

Why Harry? After three months—why come back to my life when I've started over. 

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Here it is! Part 2 of Mr. Styles.

Comment, favorite, and like please.

xx, ISA

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