I'll Fight My Corner

The drive home was always silent. Not completely, of course.

Music was playing softly through the stereo in my beat up car. Tonight, it was Jack's Mannequin. Everything In Transit, one of the best albums in existence.

Dark blue, dark blue. Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you?

Andrew's voice spilled out of the speakers and through my ears, straight to the inside of my skull to be locked away for days to come. It would show up again at the worst time: during a math test just when I came across a problem that I couldn't solve, or while I was talking to a friend who I just couldn't pay attention to.

Time and time again, when there was silence and I couldn't do anything about it, I would take the songs that I had stored away and run them through my thoughts the way a smoker burns through cigarette. Sometimes on purpose, and sometimes unconsciously.

I despised silence more than anyone or anything. I could handle it all, but when it came to dead silence, my head felt like it would implode.

I skipped back four songs on the album, taking my eyes off the road for a few seconds.

This is morning, that's when I spend the most time thinking about what I've given up.

When I looked back up, my heart jumped out of my chest, causing me to gasp and slam my foot down on the brakes. It didn't take very long for me to figure out who it was.

This mix could burn a hole in anyone, but it was you I was thinking of.

I couldn't think of a single reason as to why Harry Styles was stumbling across the street at one in the morning with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. His shirt had noticeable rips in it - and not the kind that were obviously made on purpose. There were stains on his jeans and the laces on his boots threatened to trip him at any second. This was the most unkempt I had ever seen him.

I almost rolled my eyes. Almost. But mid-eye roll, I noticed his nose was gushing blood, and it trickled down, past his mouth, painting his chin bright red. I winced in disgust. I was never good with blood.

I popped my seatbelt and flung the door open, rushing to him. Taking his arm and throwing it over my shoulders, I started to lead him to the passenger side of my car.

"Who are you? What the fuck?"

His accent never failed to catch me by surprise every time I heard it. Whether it was in passing through the halls or hearing one of his witty comments in class, it captured the hearts of everyone. Even the guys.

It wasn't like we had never heard a British accent before. The majority of us had seen Harry Potter. Same difference, right?

Apparently not.

"Just let me help you, okay?"

He just groaned and replied, "Whatever."

I sighed as I pulled the door open and slowly helped him duck down and plop down on the passenger seat. Slamming the door shut, I walked back around and got back inside the car, closing the door.

I guess I didn't exactly think my decisions through, because now I was stuck in a car with Harry Styles. What was I going do with him? Take him to my house? The thought alone made my heart beat a little faster than usual. I was already starting to panic, thinking about how on earth I could possibly get him into my house without my mother noticing. I hoped to God that she was already asleep. This was why I usually never got myself into situations like this. I stayed quiet, did what I had to do, and moved on. I had a huge feeling that Harry was about to put a rift in the equilibrium I had found for myself, but I carried on helping him anyway.

I turned to him. "Where do you live?"

"Do you mind?" he slurred.

"Mind what?" I scoffed.

"Do you mind not talking so loud?" He spoke so slowly that I was sure it would drive me completely insane.

I sighed and repeated in an almost-whisper, "Where do you live?"

"Sesame Street."

The corners of my mouth twitched. "Very funny, Big Bird."

He picked his head up with difficulty and then simply squinted at me.

"Where do you live, Harry?"

"H-How do you know my name?"

I ignored his question and repeated, "Just tell me where you live."

"You can't bring me home, silly!" he mumbled.

"What? Why not?"

He tried to point to something, but his arm dropped. He stared at it for a moment and then said, "You're almost out of gas."

I looked to confirm his claim and he was right. Before my mind started to go into extreme panic mode, I weighed my options. I could either go home and bring Harry with me, or go to the gas station and risk breaking my 2 AM curfew - if my mother was even awake.

But if I neglected my empty tank, how would I get to school tomorrow?

I decided that I would've rather faced the angry whirs of my car than the angry wrath of my mother, so I made a mental note to set my alarm fifteen minutes earlier than usual so that I could get to the gas station before school.

Before pressing my foot down on the gas again, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel. How did I get myself into this?

"I'm worth all the trouble, I promise. What's your name again?"

Letting out another sigh, I replied, "Emmalee."

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

My eyes landed on him for a split second and traveled back to the road. "I don't know you enough to decide, but to be honest, I'm leaning towards dislike."

He chuckled and pulled something out of his pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of light touching the tip of a cigarette.

"Hey!"

Eyes widened, he looked at me, the cigarette still sticking out of his mouth. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'What?' You can't just smoke in my car!"

"And why not?"

"It's disgusting."

He rolled his eyes, but then they lit up, accompanying a smile. "Fine."

I sighed, turning the music up louder.

"What band is this anyway?" he said with a muffled voice.

I looked over and his upper body was sticking out the open window, smoke flowing from the lit cigarette.

My mouth opened in the shape of an o and I almost lost control of the steering wheel.

"You're not answering my question, Emma," he replied playfully.

"Emmalee," I repeated firmly.

"I like Emma," he informed me, sitting back down.

"Emmalee," I said again. "It's Emmalee or nothing."

"But who am I going to write my elaborate thank you note to?"

"I don't know why you need to thank me."

"You saved my ass. If I had gone home, I probably would have drunk even more and killed myself."

His statement took me by surprise, but I figured it was the alcohol talking. But then again, there was that saying. Drunk words are sober thoughts. I shook off my worries.

"It's Jack's Mannequin."

"I've never heard this band before! I like them."

"They're pretty great, yeah."

"They your favorite?"

"I don't have a favorite band."

I waited for him to ask - How could you not have a favorite band? - when I noticed his nose was still bleeding, and I immediately felt idiotic for forgetting. I stopped driving once more and popped open the glove compartment, I reaching inside and pulled out a little pack of tissues.

"Here." I started driving again.

"What are you giving me those for?"

"Your nose. It's still bleeding."

"No, I don't need them."

"What, the high and mighty Harry Styles doesn't need tissues?"

"No, the high and mighty Harry Styles can handle it and he just wants to smoke."

He took them out of my hand and put them back into the glove compartment, shutting it afterwards.

I let a deep breath out through my nose and didn't talk for the rest of the ride home. Thankfully, he didn't either.

But that was because he had thrown his cigarette out the window and passed out. God, what a litterer.

I looked at the time - 1:43 AM.

I looked over at Harry as Andrew McMahon kept singing and singing. I wondered what had happened to him tonight, and if he did this every night. I figured I would never find out, because after tonight, I didn't plan on talking to him ever again.

Rolling into my driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt, turned off the engine and got out, dreading the experience that was waking Harry up.

I opened his door and prayed that he wouldn't fall out. Thankfully, he didn't. I just poked him on the cheek with a finger, hoping that would wake him up. It didn't I reached over, trying not to breathe in his smell. It was some kind of minty cologne mixed in with beer, marijuana, and cigarette smoke. I wasn't surprised, but the smell still made my nose wrinkle with disdain. I popped his seatbelt and tried to figure out a way to get him out without injuring him. He was gigantic. I didn't have to stand next to him to know that he towered over my small 5'4" frame. Even sitting down, the top of his head was touching the roof of my small car.

Then again, the massive pile of hair on his head probably added extra height.

I crouched down, slinging one of his arms over my shoulders, slowly pulling him out with one of my arms around his waist and my other holding onto his hand. His hand completely encompassed mine. It was huge and his fingers were long. There were rings on his fingers and a cross was tattooed below his thumb. There were more small tattoos around his wrist and a large anchor one that started at his wrist and went a small ways down his arm. Kicking the door closed with my foot, we began the journey up my lawn and to the front door.

I hoped my hardest that my mother was already asleep. Though her attempts to wait up for me were undeniably heartwarming, sometimes they failed and she retreated to bed before I got home. If luck was on my side, tonight would be one of those nights.

I heard a groan and looked up at him. Though he had been half awake and walking with me, he was just now regaining his senses. "Oh, fuck. Where am I?"

"You're at my house. Stay calm, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay."

"Can you stand up by yourself?"

His lips stretched into a grin. "Not really."

"Tough luck, buddy. Lean against the door, cause I need to get my keys out of my pocket."

He did as told and I fished for my keys. I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I heard a thump and my heart jumped slightly.

It was Harry. He had fallen with the door and was now on the floor, arms and legs crooked and spread out.

I held in a giggle as he groaned again. "Fuck. Ow, fuck."

"I'm sorry! Oh gosh, this is too funny."

"You're not sorry if you're laughing like that!"

"I'm really sorry. I promise. Scout's honor."

"Just help me up, will you?"

I closed the door and picked him up the same way I got him out of my car. "Keep quiet or you'll wake my mom, okay?"

"Yeah. Got it."

I led him through the front hall and through to the main hall, bringing him to my room and plopping him down onto my bed.

"Stay here."

I headed for the kitchen where I grabbed Harry a bottle of water and then to the living room for a box of tissues, and stopped at the linen closet for my old sleeping bag and an extra blanket.

When I came back into my room, Harry was still awake, lying down and looking around. "Your room is nice."

"Um, thanks. So, here's some water and some tissues."

He took both without a word.

So instead of a you're welcome, I grabbed one of my pillows from under his head.

"What the fuck!"

I just spread my sleeping bag and blanket out on my floor along with the pillow I had taken.

"You're sleeping there?"

I looked at him as if it was obvious. "Where else am I going to sleep?"

"Here!" He patted his hand on my bed.

"I don't think so."

"I think so."

"I'm fine here."

"I can sleep there."

"You're still partially drunk. I feel bad."

"Why?"

"Because you look terrible and probably feel the part too. Just stay there."

He shrugged. "Okay."

I opened a drawer and took out a pair of pajama bottoms and an old P.E. shirt from middle school.

"I'm gonna go change. You just pass out again or whatever."

"Aye aye, captain."

I chuckled and quietly walked into the bathroom. As I changed and brushed my teeth, I wondered why I let Harry Styles come into my house and sleep on my bed and drink my water and use my tissues.

Because I was trying to be a nice person, that was why. But why him? Out of all the people, it had to be Harry Styles, the British captain of the basketball team. That's who it had to be. It couldn't have been anyone I had anything in common with, or someone I could stand.

I was in over my head.

But after tonight I never had to talk to him again, so it wasn't a big deal. I could just get this over with and move on with my life.

I walked out of the bathroom and into my room, opening the door quietly so as not to wake him if he was sleeping.

He wasn't.

I just sighed and sat down on my sleeping bag.

"So why were you out so late?" he asked.

"I should be asking you that, actually."

"Well, I mean it was obvious I was out at a party, wasn't it? But you don't drink or anything. So what were you doing?"

"I was at work."

"At one in the morning?"

"I work at an arena downtown."

"Oh. What do you do there?"

"I work the snack bar. It's a decent job. I mean, it gets me money for gas and I guess that's all that matters. I don't work every night, but I work most nights."

"That's cool. Wait, wait. So how do you know me again?"

I squinted up at him. "What is this? An interview?"

"You're an interesting person, Emma."

"Emmalee," I corrected him. "I go to school with you."

"You go to Sun Valley?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You live quite far away."

"Not really. It's like a 20 minute drive. That's not too bad."

"No offense or anything..." he trailed off, hesitant.

I sat up.

"It's probably gonna be offensive, but I think I know what you're gonna say. Emmalee, how can you go to Sun Valley if you live in a one story house with one parent in the not-so-nice part of the city?"

Everyone knew Sun Valley was one of the nicest schools in the country. And by one of the nicest, I meant one of the most expensive.

"I was actually going to say Emma, but-"

"It's Emmalee. And I'm there on a scholarship for my grades."

"Oh."

"I also tutor people every day after school."

"I've never seen you before."

"I didn't expect you to. I've seen you before. I probably hear your name spoken at least once a day."

"Really now?"

"Don't act like you don't know."

"I'm not acting like I didn't know that you knew."

"You're the captain of the basketball team and you've dated almost half the girls in our class and about a third of the girls who aren't. Also, let's not forget that you're the only person in the entire school that has a British accent. How could I possibly not know you?"

He sighed. "So you do know."

I shrugged.

"You think you know me, don't you, Emma? You think that I'm popular and I've got it all stitched together and I'm happy with my life. You probably think that I've got no problem being rich and high and drunk and all that."

I stayed quiet.

"Well, Emma, you're right," he said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes at him and lay my head back down on the pillow.

"I don't know you, though."

"You never will, Styles."