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Sometimes things happen that makes you feel like the stars are all aligned, like when you get an A on a test you did not really study for, and the cute boy sitting on the front row in your advanced synthesis chemistry save you a seat and shares his notes and then finally finds out mum has transferred a few extra hundreds just in case you needed it. Today was not that kind of day for Harry Styles.
Like the way someone had punctured the front wheel of his bike causing him to be late for his first period of organic chemistry and thereby being partnered up with Danny the-half-wit, who, bless his heart, back in the sign-up for class days had thought that OC with M. Cooper was a study on the FOX television show Orange County and could not afford to switch because then he would lack the science credit. The cafeteria had sold out everything except their ham and cheese sandwiches which had forced him to the dry saltines sold as a side to the cream soup, and now, as a final fuck you, someone had chained their bike to his.
“What the hell?” he curses as he bends down to check out the chain wrapped around his own beat up bike and the shiny white Genesis lying on top of it. He tries to pull the chain apart but nothing happens except for the clatter for metal against the bike frame. “Anyone who knows the bastard owning this shit?” he yells out erratically at a group of lads walking out of the nearest building.
“What bike mate?” the shortest of the three yells back with a smirk, “You’re gunna have to give me some details if you want my help, curly.”
“Oh uh, the white Genesis one, it looks nice if it helps,” Harry replies with a frown and stands up from his squat.
“The frame has lightning bulbs on it yeah? And the bottle in the bottle carrier is a vitamin water with topical citrus – even though no one but him drinks that shit,” the taller one with the stupid quiff quips in.
“Well, yeah, do you know who it is?” Harry frowns because he sort of likes the yellow one with the citrus.
“He’s gunna be here in a few minutes, don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll help you out,” the shortest calls again before tucking himself under quiffy’s arm and walking away, leaving Harry with a locked bike and an empty bottle of vitamin water.
+
“Hey listen mates, let’s meet up later, I got an essay due for an hour – call Louis if you need anything,” an Irish voice sounds close to the patch of grass Harry had chosen to lay down on, “they’re talking ‘bout a footie match if you’re up for it, come by the field if you’re interested,”
Harry slowly moves from his position on the grass to his feet in the time it takes for the blond Irishman to reach his bike.
“Hi mate, what’re you doing lying by my bike?” the blonde questioned cheekily and bends down to unlock the culprit of their entire situation.
“Oh don’t mind me, just having me a bit of a kip here,” Harry crossly replies. He watches the blond slowly nod and pull the bike from the pile before swinging his leg over the frame. “Are you bloody serious?! Who in their right mind would just sit by the bikes on a Wednesday afternoon?”
“I don’t know mate, you tell me. I‘m not one to judge, maybe you were scouting for lasses or something,”
“You chained your bloody bike to mine, wanker! I had to stay here for hours, because your stupid friends can’t give me correct information,”
“Oi, you talked to Louis? He’s a lad, isn’t he? The best mate.” The blond grins excitedly and takes his foot of the pedal, “Want to join us for a kick around? We can always use more lads,”
“Did you not hear me?! You chained our bikes together and then just fucking left them there! Do you know how long I’ve been sitting on the ground waiting for you? Without being able to move because what if you came and unchained them and then someone stole my bike? I do have a life you know, with other people than your freaking bicycle,”
“You could have just locked you bike again mate, would have been free of mine but still locked that way,” the blond shrugs with a growing smile, “I’m Niall by the way and I really do have an essay to turn in in an hour, but I can give you my number and I’ll pay for dinner someday, yeah? We’re uni students after all, everyone can do with a free meal.”
“I, what? No,” Harry stutters confused before the blond, Niall, pulls out his arm and scribbles down a number with his name at the bottom. “You chained my bike to yours! You can’t just leave,”
“Ta kind stranger! We can make it a date if you want it, no objections here,” he grins before biking away.
“Fucking Irishmen,” Harry mutters as he tries to scrub the permanent marker off without any real force behind it. When he is satisfied that it will not go off from the sweat, the hops on the bike and finally heads home with a smile.