The Darings

Ash was thinking that the perfect time to get hit by a bus would be right about now. Her thoughts were also a little more than occupied about which was worse: having to face the Dean or having to face Harry. That debate cycled right back into her thinking it might be a good idea to just lay down in a zebra crossing and wait for a cab to run her over.

It was Tuesday, D-Day (D being for Dean), and she still hadn’t heard from Harry. At all. He hadn’t returned her embarrassing voicemail, hadn’t texted their group message, and, perhaps worst of all, hadn’t shown up for Biology lecture on Monday. The lengths he was going to avoid her left her with a stress headache. Niall had insisted that everything was okay when she asked after his absence, but Ash didn’t know if she could trust Niall Horan more than she could out drink him. Which, as everyone knew, was not even close.

“You alright?” Finn asked from the open doorway as Ash busied herself with fixing the broken lightbulb in the refrigerator. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“It’s been fucked for a week now,” Ash sighed, a little out of her own character. “I called maintenance a week ago but no one ever came. Something’s wrong with the wiring. I’m sick of not being able to see when I’m trying to get some cheese in the middle of the night.”

Finn just stared at her with those sharp eyes. Ash wasn’t sure what she needed to explain, the fistful of wires in her hand or the fact that she was now eating her emotions in the form of her third block of Brie.

“My dad likes to fix things himself,” she explained, placing a patch of electrical tape on the frayed edge. “He always taught me to fix things myself, too. I’m… handy I guess. But I don’t usually get the opportunity to fix stuff.”

“I’m more worried about the binge eating, Ashley,” Finn stated, her eyebrows furrowed into a disapproving glance.

The light illuminated almost on cue, leaving Ash with some sort of sense of accomplishment. At least she’d done this right. Hopefully, things could go just as well when she sat across from the Dean.

“Nothing good ever comes from a situation where I have to lie,” she muttered as she stood and shut the door behind her, leaving the wires for later.

“Well, don’t talk then,” Finn replied simply.

“Trust me, I’m not planning on it.”

They left the building in relative silence, the only sound between them being the sound of the heels of Finn’s boots clicking against the tile. Ash loved that Finn understood her so simply, that if Ash couldn’t help cover their tracks, then Finn would be intimidating enough for the both of them. At least, that’s what Ash was hoping for as they made their way to the Dean’s office. She couldn’t really worry about it more than that, knowing that at the same time, she was going to have to face Harry.

“It’s going to be fine,” Finn insisted as she placed her hand on the door handle to let them inside. And with a reassuring glance, Ash wasn’t sure if she was referring to the Dean or to Harry.

Dean Campbell’s office was not particularly welcoming. The walls were painted a standard taupe, the art hanging on them looked like they’d been purchased at TK Maxx on clearance, and the receptionist was wearing a face that looked as though she’d smelled spoiled milk. Needless to say, there wasn’t much distracting Ash from what was waiting for her.

Harry. Thin smile, messy curls, entirely silent, staring back at her. He sat in a chair beside Niall, who was tapping his heels against the floor with what likely was nervous energy. Harry, on the other hand, looked nonplussed. He instead looked as though his eyes had magnets that set to her core.

Who did he think he was, looking at her like that? After ignoring her for all that time?

“Is everybody here?” the receptionist asked flatly before any of them had the chance to greet each other, before they had any sort of chance to make a game plan. Ash glanced to Finn, and then to Niall, purposefully ignoring Harry’s gaze before nodding. “Great. Dean Campbell will see you now.”

Dean Campbell was about as barrel-like as a can of soup, as it were – broad chest and broad belly, equally large around, with a sheet of silver hair atop his round head. He was a strange combination of physically fit and obviously unhealthy, the three empty cans of Diet Coke sitting on his desk proving testimony to that fact. But he kept his windows open, and the office was bright, which helped calm Ash’s nerves whatever small fraction as she sat in a chair across from him.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted them, and they all mumbled some form of response, Niall perhaps most brightly and Finn with a bit of a bite in her tone. Ash hoped she wouldn’t have to open her mouth past then.

“I assume you all know why you’re here,” Campbell stated, taking a seat in his own chair before picking up a can of Coke and taking a long, invested swig.

“Actually, sir, we aren’t exactly clear on that,” Finn nearly barked back, her intimidation tactics coming out full force out of the gate. Ash felt like shrinking back into her chair.

“Would you mind explaining to us what we’ve done wrong?” Niall chimed in support. Clearly the duo had gone over some sort of game plan that Ash hadn’t been clued into. Silently, she thanked Finn for not including her in the plan – while they were fighting for their innocence, Ash could see herself bristling under Harry’s gaze. His emerald eyes still had not left her.

“I have reason to believe that you all are responsible for the bubbles in the fountains this Friday night,” Campbell replied coolly, setting his can down for emphasis at the end of his statement. Ash’s heartbeat piqued. He seemed so confident, like he had every reason to believe he was right.

“The bubbles, sir?” Niall asked, convincingly confused. “On campus? I heard about that in my biology lecture on Monday. No, we’re not responsible at all.”

“What would make you think we’re responsible?” Harry questioned next. The sound of his voice sent a chill up Ash’s spine. It had been days since she heard that voice, the last time being when she called his voicemail, only to be ignored.

Campbell pressed his lips into a thin line. “When we were attempting to find suspects for who was responsible, I heard several stories involving each of you acting out in pranks around campus. Harassing professors, stripping at football matches… it seemed to make sense that you all might be involved.”

“I’m sorry sir, we were at Niall’s flat that night,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “Which isn’t even on campus.”

Campbell then turned his gaze to Ash. If there were a word for the sound Ash’s heart was making in between her ears, it would be nestled somewhere between pummeling and wailing in the thesaurus. Somehow, it was doing both at the same time. The corner of Campbell’s Coke-slicked lips turned up, knowing that he’d found the weak link.

“And you, Miss Hughes?” Campbell hummed, his voice like sleet. “I’ve seen your grades, Salutatorian. Congratulations. You’ve been awfully quiet. Where were you on Friday night?”

Lying. The fear of lying consumed her, her inability overwhelming her, and she wondered if she closed her eyes it would all melt away and she would just be back in Marlborough before any of this mess even happened. Finally, she parted her lips to speak, but a different sound came first.

“She has laryngitis,” Harry intervened, gesturing to Ash with a sad grimace on his face. “Please don’t make her talk.”

Attempting to keep her face free of incredulous surprise, Ash nodded. “It hurts,” she managed to croak, stroking her hands at her vocal cords.

“She’s been spending all her free time in bed for days, trying to get some rest,” Harry insisted, and through her peripheral vision Ash could see Niall and Finn nodding along. “She wasn’t with us at Niall’s.”

Ash stared at him blankly, trying to read his expression. Harry looked sincere, like he was sincerely trying to help her. Like he sincerely cared, like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, like he had a reason to care for her. And it sent Ash into an internal, fuming rage. Who did Harry Styles think he was?

“And regardless,” Finn spoke from her end of the line up. “It’s sounds like you’re just holding us here on suspicion. Do you actually have any proof that would justify you calling us here?”

Dean Campbell glanced between the four of them meticulously, the edges of his neck around his shirt collar gaining the faintest tint of vermilion. “Well, I…”

“I feel like it’s rather odd to accuse us of perniciousness when we all bring so much to your school,” Finn continued, a treacherous tone hemming her words. “Why would your star football player, your salutatorian, and the son of one of your biggest donators get together to deface the college?”

Dean Campbell was left sputtering.

“If you don’t mind, sir, we’ve done nothing wrong and have homework to attend to,” she stated proudly, standing and giving the rest a glance to follow. “I hope you find who you’re looking for.”

The four filed out of the office triumphant, Campbell stammering after them, “Consider this a warning!”

Ash, however, was still to consumed with anger to celebrate with the rest of her mates. “Good work, Finn,” she felicitated, wrapping her friend in an embrace. “That was brilliant. I’m sorry I have to run off, I have… well, I just have to go.”

And before her friends could even question it, Ash was running out of the building and out into the crisp, fall air. With London all around her, all Ash could see was red. Harry, that bloody wanker, with his voice in her ears, defending her when she could have easily taken care of herself. With his eyes on her, defending her. Who the hell did he think he was? That he could just kiss her and ignore her?

As if on cue, Harry’s voice came from behind her, crying, “Ash!”

She spun around to find him chasing after her, wind catching at his crewneck and billowing it around his narrow torso. His hair was a mess, eyebrows knitted, determination and confusion blurred everywhere on his expression.

“Harry Styles, who the fuck do you think you are?” she screamed, clutching her coat around her waist. “You can’t just do that! You can’t just ignore me and then – “

She was cut off by his lips crashing against hers, his arms snaking around her waist and pulling her body to his. At first, she tensed at his touch, the persistent beat of anger still drumming in her abdomen. But as his lips ghosted hers, pressing deeply to them again, she felt the anger melting away. He held her tightly to him, pressing one hand against her cheek, and Ash found herself kissing him back, knees weak and confidence restored.

“I’m sorry,” Harry breathed, breaking away for a moment to look her in the eye. “The first time was not at all how I wanted this to happen. And this isn’t really how I wanted it to happen the second time either, with you yelling at me and such. But I couldn’t figure out how to tell you how I felt, so… this is it.”

He kissed her again, and Ash decided she had it somewhere in her to forgive him.