Our Years

*Winner of the Worlds Best 1D Fanfiction Writer* They say your soulmate will always find you. But what they didn't say is that they will find you, then they will go, mess with your heart, and repeat the whole process over and over again. But will the heartbreak and pain be too much for Emma to handle, as the mysterious Harry Styles dances his way into and out of her life?
Our Years - Episode 119:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 222:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 321:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 418:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 518:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 616:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 720:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 819:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 912:00 min.
Our Years - Episode 1017:00 min.


3. School Years- 2


It took me exactly two weeks and four days to muster up the courage to track down Harry. I remember that statistic fairly well. The thing about me is that I remember things most people are careless enough to forget. Some may it's creepy, but hey, I beg to differ. Of course I already had the impression that Harry (or Curly Wurley as I nicknamed him whilst I didn't know his name) must've been spending a lot of time in the library. Who takes their lunch into there? The bookworms, or the students who were striving for straight A's. I couldn't knock him. A smart, sexy, sweet guy, who somehow intrigued me by feeding me a chip. I'm classy, so classy. But nevertheless, the obvious port of call was the library. 

Now, as I've mentioned, I was very much an inbetweener in 'coolness' during high school. It was the sort of balance I've always been used to, always been comfortable with. So I never jeopardised that by finding myself sauntering into the library, ready to do homework, or even to read some Pride and Prejudice. This integrity slipped through my fingers, as I decided to go in for the kill.

"Hasn't it been ages since we've been in the library?" I said, mustering as much casualness as I could into my voice. My fingers locked on a stray piece of hair, and I carefully pinned it hack whilst I look down at the floor.

Sarah chuckled huskily, whilst the other girls smiled timidly. "There's a reason for that, you know." She did have a point. "I mean all due respect Ems, but there's not an ounce of fun or an ounce of muscle in there." And another one.

Lacey looked at me oddly, before chipping in with, "We probably need to borrow our assigned books for this year." She hastily followed this with, "I don't really have the budget to spend on buying them. Need it for make up." Lacey's a shy little thing, but her intuition had always been just brilliant. This very thing made me wonder if I could confide in her. It could be very hard to track down Curly Wurley on my own.

"Exactly. Got to be efficient, am I right?" I smile. The smile didn't reach my eyes though. I'd lost all my casual pretence, and I was just hoping that they would say yes. The knock to my social status wouldn't be half as bad if I was with a group of friends. It was vain, I know, but a seventeen year old girl worries about the stupidest things. 

"Sure," Sarah smirked. "It'll be a laugh anyway, seeing all the nerds geeking out over finishing one of those 'fun' maths video games." I couldn't help but laugh, along with the rest of the group. We were harsh. But you had to be, otherwise people would turn the harshness onto you. 

The library didn't look as bad as I remembered. They'd got rid of the gum-tacked floors, and replaced it with a fuzzy carpet. The lights were dotted on the walls, and hummed a soft glow. It didn't look like a weirdo's haven. Hell, I'd even had said it was pretty. No wonder the school budget had been stretched so thinly that year; the school had put the majority of it into this. And I honestly couldn't blame them. Sarah and the majority of the group though? They didn't look half as impressed. I scrunched up my nose, then put on a flawless poker face, to match. 

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Ems, you are a ditz. Get your books, we'll meet you next lesson." It felt a bit weird, and a tiny bit saddening to be ditched. I half expected Lacey to stay, but either she knew I was up to something, or felt it was easier to go with the popularity flow. Once they'd all left though, I found myself not minding at all. Slowly, this spiky sensation started to coarse through me. The exact one I'd had when Curly Wurley was feeding me that chip. He was there. 

I inwardly groaned as I realised I only had ten minutes to find him, before class started. Luckily, the library was a snug little room, so the task wouldn't be too difficult. I hoped. Deciding to be strategic, I sauntered my way around the room, trying to look careless at the fact that I, Emma Fitzgerald, was in the library. With a coat of make up, skinny trousers that barely adhered to the dress code, and a passive glaze in my eyes. I was really cringing inside. In every nook and cranny, there were greasy faces buried in books, or hunched over scrappy pieces of homework. Was Curly Wurley really like all of these? I knew he didn't have a greasy face (it was matte and had no blemishes, I swear). But yikes. No amount of charisma could cover up being...

My hands grasped onto the nearest bookshelf. Despite having a poster of his face glued inside my face since the minute he left my sight, I was unprepared for him being there in the flesh. His disheveled hair was loosely covered by an olive beanie hat, which he must've known made his eyes pop. These very eyes weren't mesmerised by a heavy novel, but by a neatly organised game of Solitaire. The butterflies in my stomach flew around in a frenzy, as I realised there was no one else in that area of the library. 

"Take a seat," he absentmindedly said, gesturing towards the chair opposing him. Not once did his concentration leave the game of cards as I followed his instructions. It was almost like I was expected. Take a seat, Miss Fitzgerald. You're early for our 1:30pm appointment. Would you care for any refreshments?... "I'm sorry, what was that, my love?"

Awkwardly, I giggled. He sounded so posh. Had I picked up on this when we first met? I didn't think so. "Ignore me." Wait, no, don't ignore me. That wasn't what I meant.

My remark was ignored, but he looked up at me and grinned. "Chip, hello there. Wouldn't have expected to see you around these parts."


"I never caught your name," he explained, as he shuffled around some cards with skilled ease. "I've been calling you that in my head ever since." Oh. Oh. Wow.

Shaking off the lightheadedness that had suddenly set into my head, I leaned back and remarked, "Oh really?" I can't say it was the most romantic nickname I've ever been given, but it sure was original. There's one thing you can't say about Harry: that he's boring. "Well, I'm Emma."

"I'll keep that in mind for the future, Chip," he smiled, gathering up his cards into a stack. I glanced at the clock, to hide my blush, and realised that it was virtually time to get going for class. 

"And what's your name?" I asked hurriedly. Despite listening around and looking for him in the corridors, I had never seen him or found out sod all about him.

Again, my words were ignored. "Do you play cards?" Harry casually asked, shuffling his cards with a flex of his fingers.

"I know Go Fish," I shrugged. "I think everyone knows that one." The voices in my head were battling it out with my cool composure, begging me to ask for his name again. 

With confidence lacing his voice, he smoothly stated, "We have an hour to kill, I'll teach you Hearts." Had I missed something? Did I somehow miss lunchtime? But the clock told me otherwise. Fourth lesson. PE. I should be there. Catching my gaze, Harry added, "They don't take a register in PE, you won't be missed. Come on." 

Skipping class for a boy? My parents would've been so disappointed. Skipping class to hang out in the library? My friends would've been so disgusted. I didn't care. Right at that moment, all I wanted to do was inhale the scent of books, play with cards, and find out the name of this mysterious library haunter. At that moment, it was the best decision I ever made.

Somehow, we continued this tradition every PE lesson. He'd already be in the library, game set up, and I'd have spun my friends some story about one body joint or another playing up. It was simple, so simple, and yet it felt like the most special thing in the world. Me and him, trading cards and trading facts about ourselves, with no one else around but the feeble librarian. And yet, despite a month later knowing his favourite colour (orange), the names of his mum and sister (Anne and Gemma), I hadn't managed to find out his name, nor had he offered it up. 

I peered over my fan of cards during one of our many games, and took a deep breath. "Tell me your name, seriously. I'll do anything."

Harry mimicked my wide eyed expression. "Just..." He sheepishly grinned. "Just keep on playing cards with me every PE lesson. Can you handle that?"

"Just about," I smiled. Needless to say, I was being hopelessly naive. 

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