Plunge
Bad feeling
~Cassidy~
The next morning, I awoke with a bad feeling churning in my stomach. I could already sense that today was going to be one motherfucker of a day.
I blinked a few times, trying to get my bearings, and sluggishly slung my legs over the side of my bed, staring out my window at the sky. It was a dark gray, and I could see the clouds swirling malevolently, trying to psych me out.
That’s when I noticed small clear drops on my window. I groaned. Fuck, it was raining? I’d just woken up, and I already wished that I could go back to sleep.
A movement across from me caught my eye. My gaze landed on Curly, in his own bedroom. He was sitting on the bed in black basketball shorts and nothing else. I vaguely noticed the tattoos that littered his body, but looked away quickly.
That’s when I realised what he was doing. Nestled on his lap was a beige acoustic guitar. He looked down at the instrument, gripping the neck of it and strumming a few chords, before relaxing his arms and jotting down something on the piece of paper beside him.
What the fuck? He played? How did I not know this?
Wait, I don’t care.
He turned back to the guitar, and continued to run his fingers along the strings lazily. Finally, he took a deep breath and readied himself, it seemed.
And then he began to play. His fingers moved swiftly along the neck of the instrument, holding down strings when they needed to be held, while the fingers on his other hand gripped a small pick, and he brushed through the strings effortlessly. His mouth opened, and for a second, I had no idea what he was doing.
Then it hit me.
Was he singing?
The thought made me snort.
Still, as I watched, I became slightly more intrigued. I couldn’t exactly hear him, but I didn’t think that he would be all that bad. He seemed to really get into the music, his eyes closing, and he opened his mouth widely to hit one of the higher notes—I’m guessing—and I felt a lump form in my throat.
Why am I even looking? Honestly, it made no sense. I’m not intrigued by him, I don’t even care about him.
God, I really need to sort my shit out.
I swallowed, looking away for a moment, and when I looked back, his eyes were trained on me. I made a small squeaking sound, and then frowned at him. Without another word, I pulled the strings on my window and the blinds tumbled down, obscuring him from my view.
Good.
I don’t even know why I had been watching anyways.
~*~
Why the fuck was the bad feeling still there?
It hadn’t gone away at all, and frankly, it was putting me in even worse of a mood than I already was—but then again, it didn’t take that much to lower my happiness level.
Fucking lovely.
I groaned, fiddling with my goggles, which hung around my neck, and slipped out of my flip flops, deciding to do a few laps before Curly arrived. The pool was deserted, as it should be on Saturdays, since it’s my time to do my thing, and nobody else was allowed to intrude.
The uneasy feelings from yesterday were still present in my stomach. Granted, I’d had a shit day yesterday, but something about today completely threw me off, putting me in a horrible mood. But really, it’s not like I hadn’t experienced those before; God knows I had.
I dove in cleanly into the water, but gasped breathily when I came back up. As soon as my skin made contact with the chlorinated substance, I couldn’t help but to remember what had happened last time I’d been at this pool. Forcing those thoughts aside, I swam over the wall and, not bothering to put on my goggles since I was only going to do a bit of backstroke, pushed off, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
I didn’t know Curly could play.
The fucked up part that made me angry for no reason was that he seemed good too. Watching him sing made me feel weird, like I was experiencing raw passion and love of something, something that I was familiar with, but hadn’t experienced coming from someone else. He looked like he really got lost in the music; that he wasn’t trying hard to impress anyone, it was purely for his own amusement.
I recognized that. I used to be like that. Before, I had a raw love for swimming, just feeling the water enveloping my body. Now, it seemed as though it was more of a chore. I felt gross, corrupted, before I realised that I needed to stop thinking this way. It would all pay off in the end, all of my hard work would be rewarded, I was sure of it.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realise anyone was here until I felt the water vibrate with a splash.
I immediately stopped, getting up and treading, and watched someone emerge from the water, shaking their shaggy hair away from their face. I gritted my teeth ever so quietly.
Harry pushed his hair out of his face and then swam over to me. I probably should’ve moved away, but I was frozen, and too lazy to do so. Finally, he stopped, only about half a foot away from me, and my brain was yelling at me to put some distance between us.
“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice slightly raspy. His hot breath hit my face, making me squirm slightly, and the air was suddenly littered with the scent of spearmint.
Finally, I cleared my throat and looked away, reaching for the wall and hoisting myself up, rolling my eyes while I did so. I sat on the edge of the deck, my feet still trailing in the water, and lifted my chin.
“Quit fucking around and start,” I ordered, “Seven minutes of treading.”
He chuckled but complied, pushing away from the wall and beginning, his feet moving in slow, lazy circles to keep himself up, his arms cutting slowly through the water as he moved them in and out. I looked away.
“So,” he said, our bodies now being separated by four feet of water, “Will you take me up on my offer of going out sometime?”
Thank God, I knew now that he wasn’t asking me on a date.
Rather than just saying flat out ‘no’, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why? You already got laid the other night.”
“Cassidy—,” he began, but I forced a laugh out of myself, “Dude, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. Frankly, I’m glad you’re getting some action. It looks like you need it.”
He frowned and opened his mouth to say more, but I just shook my head, prompting a small chuckle out of my mouth, even though that was the farthest thing I felt like doing right now.
Curly sighed, “Come on. Just once. It’s the least you could do.”
“The least I could do?” I did a double take, not believing the balls that this guy had.
He shrugged, “Yeah. You know, after I saved you and everything.”
My mouth fell open. There was no fucking way that he was pulling that card. I internally groaned, glaring at him, while a smile crept up onto his lips, expanding them.
“Fucker,” I grumbled under my breath, and his smile grew wider.
“What was that?” he asked, his hand coming up to push away hair from his forehead, so that it stuck up slightly. Usually, I would just shake my head and mutter a low ‘Nothing’, but he made me aggravated.
“I said you’re a fucker,” I told him loudly, and he laughed, dipping his head underwater before coming back up and pushing away his hair again. I rolled my eyes and kicked water at him.
He gasped playfully, “You did not just do that,” he said, his eyes widening, and I cracked a small smile, looking down, “Oh, but I did.”
He laughed again, and his laugh seemed to bring me back to reality. This was fucking Curly. Why was I laughing with him? Why was I even talking to him? I hated him, and I didn’t want him in my life, and that was how things were; they would never change. Immediately, I wiped the smile off of my face and replaced it with a frown, looking around.
Harry seemed to notice my mood change, because his smile melted off of his face as well. He treaded a bit closer to me, so that we were only three feet apart, and I scooted back a bit on the pool deck.
“So what do you say?” he questioned me quietly, staring up at me through his long, wet eyelashes. They had grouped together in tiny triangles, and I glared at him.
Say no, say no, say no.
“Would you quit bothering me if I did?” I asked him warily.
Wait, what the fuck was I doing? Say no, Cassidy, say no!
“Obviously,” he snorted, and I glared at him some more. He was very annoying, and I don’t know why I was doing this. I should say no, I shouldn’t keep leading him on when I have no intention of going anyways. I should just cut his hope, right?
Exactly. Say no.
“Fine,” I sighed, raking my fingers through my wet, soppy hair and bunching it up to tie it in a ponytail.
What the fuck? Why didn’t I say no?
I’m going insane. I know that I am. I’m bipolar, I swear. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate Harry Styles; I hate him with an exquisitely deep passion, so why the hell did I just agree to go hang out with him? I am completely crazy, I’ve lost all sense of direction, and I no longer have morals. My life is flipping upside-down, thanks to this idiot.
“Just stop talking now,” I glared at him; now I was angry. He practically blackmailed me, gave me an ultimatum into coming with him, and I didn’t appreciate being played. I wished I could say no, but I’d already said yes, and I didn’t want him to think that I was an indecisive prissy little schoolgirl
Oh my fucking God, what was wrong with me?
“Your seven minutes is up,” I informed him, clenching my fists on my lap. He frowned, evidently confused with how quickly my mood could change.
“Five-hundred meters of butterfly,” I told him, shooting him a disgusted glare, “Just go.”
“Okay,” he said after a moment, and even then, he said it slowly. I looked away, gritting my teeth as he swam to the far wall and began.
I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
But then I remembered that this was Harry Styles I was talking about. He didn’t deserve my pity, didn’t deserve for me to even talk to him. And he sure as fuck didn’t deserve for me to agree to hang out with him tonight.
Yet I’d said yes anyways.
God, I was such an idiot. Why had I said yes? I had all those feelings there, the dozens of voice in my head telling me not to, telling me this was a bad idea and that I’d only regret it. So why had I agreed? I definitely regretted it now. I was sure that tonight would be no fun.
Even worse, I probably just built up his ego now. He probably thought that I was somehow falling for him now.
Ha, yeah right.
And I couldn’t back out now. As much as I hated him, I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t have any of my shit together, I didn’t want to seem indecisive and simply grant him another reason to tease me, or another situation to dangle over my head.
Fuck.
There was nothing I could do about it.
I was going out with Harry Styles tonight.
The next morning, I awoke with a bad feeling churning in my stomach. I could already sense that today was going to be one motherfucker of a day.
I blinked a few times, trying to get my bearings, and sluggishly slung my legs over the side of my bed, staring out my window at the sky. It was a dark gray, and I could see the clouds swirling malevolently, trying to psych me out.
That’s when I noticed small clear drops on my window. I groaned. Fuck, it was raining? I’d just woken up, and I already wished that I could go back to sleep.
A movement across from me caught my eye. My gaze landed on Curly, in his own bedroom. He was sitting on the bed in black basketball shorts and nothing else. I vaguely noticed the tattoos that littered his body, but looked away quickly.
That’s when I realised what he was doing. Nestled on his lap was a beige acoustic guitar. He looked down at the instrument, gripping the neck of it and strumming a few chords, before relaxing his arms and jotting down something on the piece of paper beside him.
What the fuck? He played? How did I not know this?
Wait, I don’t care.
He turned back to the guitar, and continued to run his fingers along the strings lazily. Finally, he took a deep breath and readied himself, it seemed.
And then he began to play. His fingers moved swiftly along the neck of the instrument, holding down strings when they needed to be held, while the fingers on his other hand gripped a small pick, and he brushed through the strings effortlessly. His mouth opened, and for a second, I had no idea what he was doing.
Then it hit me.
Was he singing?
The thought made me snort.
Still, as I watched, I became slightly more intrigued. I couldn’t exactly hear him, but I didn’t think that he would be all that bad. He seemed to really get into the music, his eyes closing, and he opened his mouth widely to hit one of the higher notes—I’m guessing—and I felt a lump form in my throat.
Why am I even looking? Honestly, it made no sense. I’m not intrigued by him, I don’t even care about him.
God, I really need to sort my shit out.
I swallowed, looking away for a moment, and when I looked back, his eyes were trained on me. I made a small squeaking sound, and then frowned at him. Without another word, I pulled the strings on my window and the blinds tumbled down, obscuring him from my view.
Good.
I don’t even know why I had been watching anyways.
~*~
Why the fuck was the bad feeling still there?
It hadn’t gone away at all, and frankly, it was putting me in even worse of a mood than I already was—but then again, it didn’t take that much to lower my happiness level.
Fucking lovely.
I groaned, fiddling with my goggles, which hung around my neck, and slipped out of my flip flops, deciding to do a few laps before Curly arrived. The pool was deserted, as it should be on Saturdays, since it’s my time to do my thing, and nobody else was allowed to intrude.
The uneasy feelings from yesterday were still present in my stomach. Granted, I’d had a shit day yesterday, but something about today completely threw me off, putting me in a horrible mood. But really, it’s not like I hadn’t experienced those before; God knows I had.
I dove in cleanly into the water, but gasped breathily when I came back up. As soon as my skin made contact with the chlorinated substance, I couldn’t help but to remember what had happened last time I’d been at this pool. Forcing those thoughts aside, I swam over the wall and, not bothering to put on my goggles since I was only going to do a bit of backstroke, pushed off, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
I didn’t know Curly could play.
The fucked up part that made me angry for no reason was that he seemed good too. Watching him sing made me feel weird, like I was experiencing raw passion and love of something, something that I was familiar with, but hadn’t experienced coming from someone else. He looked like he really got lost in the music; that he wasn’t trying hard to impress anyone, it was purely for his own amusement.
I recognized that. I used to be like that. Before, I had a raw love for swimming, just feeling the water enveloping my body. Now, it seemed as though it was more of a chore. I felt gross, corrupted, before I realised that I needed to stop thinking this way. It would all pay off in the end, all of my hard work would be rewarded, I was sure of it.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realise anyone was here until I felt the water vibrate with a splash.
I immediately stopped, getting up and treading, and watched someone emerge from the water, shaking their shaggy hair away from their face. I gritted my teeth ever so quietly.
Harry pushed his hair out of his face and then swam over to me. I probably should’ve moved away, but I was frozen, and too lazy to do so. Finally, he stopped, only about half a foot away from me, and my brain was yelling at me to put some distance between us.
“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice slightly raspy. His hot breath hit my face, making me squirm slightly, and the air was suddenly littered with the scent of spearmint.
Finally, I cleared my throat and looked away, reaching for the wall and hoisting myself up, rolling my eyes while I did so. I sat on the edge of the deck, my feet still trailing in the water, and lifted my chin.
“Quit fucking around and start,” I ordered, “Seven minutes of treading.”
He chuckled but complied, pushing away from the wall and beginning, his feet moving in slow, lazy circles to keep himself up, his arms cutting slowly through the water as he moved them in and out. I looked away.
“So,” he said, our bodies now being separated by four feet of water, “Will you take me up on my offer of going out sometime?”
Thank God, I knew now that he wasn’t asking me on a date.
Rather than just saying flat out ‘no’, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why? You already got laid the other night.”
“Cassidy—,” he began, but I forced a laugh out of myself, “Dude, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. Frankly, I’m glad you’re getting some action. It looks like you need it.”
He frowned and opened his mouth to say more, but I just shook my head, prompting a small chuckle out of my mouth, even though that was the farthest thing I felt like doing right now.
Curly sighed, “Come on. Just once. It’s the least you could do.”
“The least I could do?” I did a double take, not believing the balls that this guy had.
He shrugged, “Yeah. You know, after I saved you and everything.”
My mouth fell open. There was no fucking way that he was pulling that card. I internally groaned, glaring at him, while a smile crept up onto his lips, expanding them.
“Fucker,” I grumbled under my breath, and his smile grew wider.
“What was that?” he asked, his hand coming up to push away hair from his forehead, so that it stuck up slightly. Usually, I would just shake my head and mutter a low ‘Nothing’, but he made me aggravated.
“I said you’re a fucker,” I told him loudly, and he laughed, dipping his head underwater before coming back up and pushing away his hair again. I rolled my eyes and kicked water at him.
He gasped playfully, “You did not just do that,” he said, his eyes widening, and I cracked a small smile, looking down, “Oh, but I did.”
He laughed again, and his laugh seemed to bring me back to reality. This was fucking Curly. Why was I laughing with him? Why was I even talking to him? I hated him, and I didn’t want him in my life, and that was how things were; they would never change. Immediately, I wiped the smile off of my face and replaced it with a frown, looking around.
Harry seemed to notice my mood change, because his smile melted off of his face as well. He treaded a bit closer to me, so that we were only three feet apart, and I scooted back a bit on the pool deck.
“So what do you say?” he questioned me quietly, staring up at me through his long, wet eyelashes. They had grouped together in tiny triangles, and I glared at him.
Say no, say no, say no.
“Would you quit bothering me if I did?” I asked him warily.
Wait, what the fuck was I doing? Say no, Cassidy, say no!
“Obviously,” he snorted, and I glared at him some more. He was very annoying, and I don’t know why I was doing this. I should say no, I shouldn’t keep leading him on when I have no intention of going anyways. I should just cut his hope, right?
Exactly. Say no.
“Fine,” I sighed, raking my fingers through my wet, soppy hair and bunching it up to tie it in a ponytail.
What the fuck? Why didn’t I say no?
I’m going insane. I know that I am. I’m bipolar, I swear. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate Harry Styles; I hate him with an exquisitely deep passion, so why the hell did I just agree to go hang out with him? I am completely crazy, I’ve lost all sense of direction, and I no longer have morals. My life is flipping upside-down, thanks to this idiot.
“Just stop talking now,” I glared at him; now I was angry. He practically blackmailed me, gave me an ultimatum into coming with him, and I didn’t appreciate being played. I wished I could say no, but I’d already said yes, and I didn’t want him to think that I was an indecisive prissy little schoolgirl
Oh my fucking God, what was wrong with me?
“Your seven minutes is up,” I informed him, clenching my fists on my lap. He frowned, evidently confused with how quickly my mood could change.
“Five-hundred meters of butterfly,” I told him, shooting him a disgusted glare, “Just go.”
“Okay,” he said after a moment, and even then, he said it slowly. I looked away, gritting my teeth as he swam to the far wall and began.
I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
But then I remembered that this was Harry Styles I was talking about. He didn’t deserve my pity, didn’t deserve for me to even talk to him. And he sure as fuck didn’t deserve for me to agree to hang out with him tonight.
Yet I’d said yes anyways.
God, I was such an idiot. Why had I said yes? I had all those feelings there, the dozens of voice in my head telling me not to, telling me this was a bad idea and that I’d only regret it. So why had I agreed? I definitely regretted it now. I was sure that tonight would be no fun.
Even worse, I probably just built up his ego now. He probably thought that I was somehow falling for him now.
Ha, yeah right.
And I couldn’t back out now. As much as I hated him, I didn’t want to seem like I didn’t have any of my shit together, I didn’t want to seem indecisive and simply grant him another reason to tease me, or another situation to dangle over my head.
Fuck.
There was nothing I could do about it.
I was going out with Harry Styles tonight.
Notes
Ooh, what's going to happen? I hope you guys liked this chapter! If you VOTE, COMMENT, and SUBSCRIBE like crazy, I'll post the next one in less than two days! What do you say? ;)Check out this story! It's on the Harry Styles fanfiction site and it's absolutely amazing! It's called Music to My Ears! The chapters are long, and it is just so well-written! It's by the user Smitty717.
http://www.harrystylesfanfiction.com/Stories/Read/46798/Music-to-My-Ears/
Random fact: Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants!
VOTE! COMMENT! SUBSCRIBE!
~Stay completely awesome, my readers~
I haven't forgotten about this story. Please update soon!!
10/25/15