A/N: as an Alabamian, I can admit that this music video is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen; however, Tim McGraw is a daddy don't fight me on this

I hate myself. A lot. Despite all the reasons not to go back to that stupid bar, I find myself sitting in my car waiting to do just that. There are a few things that happened in the last twenty-four hours that made me change my mind. One, when I went to history class today, Harry was there and he full-on cornered me. As I was leaving class, he literally stood in front of the door until I agreed to talk to him. Seeing as how there was a multitude of people trying get out the door, I had no choice but to concede to his wishes to avoid having my classmates hate me for making them late.

The conversation wasn't particularly long or eventful, he just had a question about why his pledge was sitting next to me again. Apparently, he's a 'brainless twat.' Aside from that highly inappropriate assessment of his supposed fraternity brother, that was the end of the conversation. At least, it was the end of the conversation until he shouted, "see you tonight" at me as I was leaving. It was that little comment right there that initiated the change in my decision. If he's still under the impression that I'll be meeting him tonight, then clearly the whole student/TA relationship isn't a concern for him. It took me a few hours, but eventually, the bolder part of my brain began to say the same thing. If Harry isn't worried about it, then I shouldn't be either.

I realize that I am getting completely ahead of myself by thinking of Harry and I's potential relationship, but based on all the fanfiction I've ever read, the next logical assumption is that we will end up together. It's stupid to compare my life to fanfiction, I know. Nothing that happens in those things ever happens in real life so it's silly to entertain ideas of false hope like I'm doing right now. Whatever, let a girl dream, ammiright?

Anyway, the second thing that led me to change my mind was a conversation I had with my roommates. I had told Sadie she could borrow the black dress I wore on Monday, and to my complete horror, she found the napkin from the bar on my closet floor and freaked out. Literally. She ran into the common room in her underwear and nearly attacked me as she inquired about the note written on it. This unsurprisingly attracted Jess's attention, and I was forced to retell the narrative of how Harry and I met, leaving out the part about the Snapchat debacle. They got onto me for not telling them earlier, but then shifted their focus onto whether or not I was planning on going.

When I told them, with not nearly enough conviction, that I had decided not to go, they all began to incredulously ask me what the hell I was thinking by saying no to a senior. I didn't think that was a good enough reason to go, but it was Jess that finally convinced me. She went on this long rant about what I could be missing out on and how I would probably never have another chance with a British boy ever again. In all honesty, that last bit got me. She was right. How often do you meet a hot British boy living in the states? Not often, so I had better not waste my luck.

In a last effort to make the rational decision, I told them the bit about how he was my TA and how I would get in trouble if we were ever seen together. At this, they froze and I almost thought I had convinced them of why going would be a bad idea. I had felt disappointed in that moment because I knew deep down that I wanted to go and they were going to be the ones to push me to do it. My disappointment was short-lived, though. They quickly recovered from their silence and began to squeal even more aggressively than before.

Apparently, they had a friend in my history class who had sent them pictures of Harry on Snapchat and they were all completely obsessed with him. With this fuller understanding of who Harry was, my roommates then absolutely refused to allow me to stay home tonight. They agreed that if I didn't go, one of them would. I would just like to say that I had never been more secretly thankful for peer pressure than I was in that moment.

Now as I'm sitting in my car, trying to convince myself to just get out and walk into the bar, I don't feel quite the same. Not to be dramatic or anything, but I kind of would rather throw up and die right here in this vehicle than have to go in there. What if he's not there? That would be so embarrassing. What if he is there? That would be even worse. Oh god, this was a terrible idea.

I am about to put my car in drive when I catch a glimpse of his curly hair amongst the throng of people walking on the sidewalk across the street. No, that wasn't him, I tell myself. I put my foot on the break and shift my gear to reverse. It is him. I watch him walk into the bar wearing the same dress pants from the other night with a different colored blousy shirt. No other person here would wear such an ensemble, so it has to be him. I mean, how often do you meet someone in a college town wearing a silk shirt? Tightening my grip on the gear shift and taking a deep breath, I close my eyes trying to decide whether or not I'm really going to do this. He's here, I have nothing to lose. I should do it. I shouldn't be a pussy just this once.

"Fuck it," I say, putting my car in park and taking the keys out of the ignition. It's now or never, and I sure as hell will not be letting this opportunity pass me up. I don't know if I could deal with all the "what-ifs" if I decided to leave.

With probably too much confidence, I cross the street and walk up to the bar. I take a deep breath and open the heavy door. Immediately, I see his head snap towards my direction almost like he had been eagerly awaiting my arrival. For some reason, the next few seconds seem to go by in slow motion, and I am completely surprised by what I see. The expression on his face seems anxious for just a moment, but it quickly shifts to give off the same confident vibe he normally does.

Though it was brief, I feel as if I saw something in him that I hadn't seen before. I feel as if I have seen just a glimpse of the person beneath the cool-guy facade, and to be honest, that one glimpse of him was way more attractive than any tight T-shirt could ever be. Whether he meant to or not, he showed a part of himself that made him less of a character and more of an actual human being. Pleasantly surprised by the effect this moment has had on my nerves, I make my way towards the handsome European through the crowd of people. Harry stands from his seat and raises a skeptical brow at me as I approach him.

"What?" I ask, my voice somewhat shaky despite my newfound confidence. Damn it, voice. Get your shit together and sound normal.

"Nothing," Harry chuckles, "It's nice to see you." He pushes the stool back under the bar and stands to face me.

"You too," I reply, confused. Are we not staying here? Why did he push the chair in? I had not planned on this. Oh shit, the anxiety is coming back.

"My lady," Harry grins, a silly yet adorable expression taking over his features. He extends his arm out to me, the purple silk of his shirt pooling at his elbow to expose a forearm completely covered in seemingly unorganized tattoos. I've never been a fan of tattoos, but on his beautiful forearm, I think I could get over it if I had to.

"Are we going somewhere?" I ask, hesitantly slipping my arm around around his. I know it was a stupid question to ask, but sometimes I can't help but be a little bit of a control freak and I like to know at least a general plan.

Harry nods and leads us outside, "Glad you picked up on that."

I roll my eyes at his refusal to answer my real question, "Okay, but where? Am I wearing the right thing?" An amused smile overtakes his mouth as I look up at him, desperately hoping for an actual explanation.

"Don't worry about it," he simply says, the smile on his face growing bigger at the same rate as my frustration. "You look perfect, I promise." I was fully prepared to respond with another question to piss him off, but his compliment leaves me unable to say anything at all. I don't care who you are; if someone as attractive as Harry Styles tells you that you look perfect, any coherent words will be taken right out of your mouth. With a sigh of contentment, I decide to just shut up and see where he takes me.

Hopefully, it's not too far because these shoes are stupid. At least my dress is more comfortable this evening than my Monday-night wardrobe decision. This off-the-shoulder, black dress is still fitted, but is a good deal looser and much more breathable than the last one. I have a feeling I will come to thank my past self for deciding on this dress rather than my roommates' much more revealing suggestions.

We turn the corner and eventually find his car, or, I should say: truck. I can't help but giggle as he opens the door to a huge, black Ford pickup truck and helps me inside. I try not to laugh as he shuts my door and walks around to the other side. The smell is not at all what I expected a truck to smell like; it smells like new leather and men's cologne. But despite the nice smell, the fact that Harry has a truck is just as confusing as it is amusing.

He is about to turn the keys in the ignition when he stops himself and looks at me with a serious expression, "Go ahead and say it."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing, "Say what?"

"You know what."

If he wants me to go for it, I will. "What does a British guy have a cowboy car for?"

"There it is," he frowns, but I can see that he is fighting the urge to smile. The way he speaks is so damn attractive that I find myself watching his lips while he continues, "Literally everyone hates on the truck, but I didn't have a choice but to get it."

Laughing, I smooth the black fabric of my dress and reply, "I'm not hating on it, I just didn't expect you to be a truck guy."

He sighs, starting the engine and looking in the rear view mirror, "It's my step-dad's, or it was his. He gave it to me as a bribe, I think, to get me to like him more."

"Did it work?"

Harry scoffs, "No, but it did help me get elected president of my fraternity. The guys there are so superficial, they saw how nice this thing was and they were sold on my character."

"Oh..." I trail off, unsure of what to say. This is the first time he has actually told me anything about his fraternity. Anything I knew before was because of that kid from history class.

"What? Do you not like fraternities?" he asks. His voice isn't harsh, merely inquisitive.

I shrug, "I dunno..  I haven't met a decent frat boy yet, but I'm sure there are some nice ones out there."

"Ouch," Harry says, pretending to be offended. "I clearly have a lot to prove tonight, then."

"Yes, you do," I conclude, deciding that now is a good time to reprimand him for the Snapchat thing from the other night. "You already gave yourself a strike the other night."

"What? How?" Bruh, are you for real?

"Well, teasing me by asking for my snap then walking away wasn't exactly a point in your favor," I tell him honestly, not caring if he thinks I'm crazy for bringing it up. If he thinks I'm crazy, that's his problem.

To my surprise, Harry doesn't deflect my comment; instead he agrees, "Yeah, that was shitty. I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay." Maybe I can use this moment to get him to tell me where we're going. "You can make it up to me, though."

"Oh?" He says, raising his brow curiously. "How so?"

Grinning at the fact that he took the bait, I sit up a little straighter in my seat and look to him, "you can tell me where we're going and I'll forgive you."

He groans dramatically and glances over at me as he focuses on the road in front of us, "Fine, but you'll ruin the surprise."

"I don't care," I declare stubbornly, watching him as he fights the urge to tell me his plan. "I want to know where we're going."

"Dancing," he says. "We're going dancing."

•••

Wow, it's my first night going to be before 1 am in two weeks #thisisthelifeishouldbeliving

Thanks so much for reading! Please vote if you can, I'd really appreciate it! :) love y'all!
-kate🖤