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Chapter 5

Go ahead, you can say it's my fault
If it still hurts at all
I thought one of these days you might call
When you were feelin' small
Drownin' in my thoughts
Starin' at the clock
And I know I'm not on your mind

– Miley Cyrus, Hate Me

. . . .

It's been over a week and a half since I left Harry's house and got picked up by Mr. Horan. After I got out of his car, I didn't look back once. I kept walking as fast as possible to get back to my building where I could sulk in my own pity rather than be in the company of others.

As of Harry, I only saw him when he was walking into the main building from his car. We were at a pretty far distance from one another, so I doubt he even saw me. Despite my locker being outside his classroom, I haven't seen him since this morning. It would seem like it would be relieving to not run into him throughout the school day, but the worry of him turning a corner at any minute and me coming into contact with him persists in my mind.

Inevitably, though, I will have to see him. His class starts in a few minutes, and I'm getting more and more nervous by the minute.

What will he say? Do I say anything to him?

Despite my rapid heart beat, I try to think of other things. I try to get over my anxieties and push past it. His class can't last forever. These little meet ups aren't working in the slightest. We don't say or do anything. We hold a measly conversation and then he wants to abandon the get together out of nowhere. Yeah, I guess spending time with him, and inevitably getting extra credit isn't the worst thing in the world, but I can't just ditch. Even though I signed up for this extra credit monstrosity, I still need to try in this class.

When I walk into Harry's class at the end of the day, he's sitting at his desk at the front of the room scribbling down notes on someone's paper in his familiar spiky handwriting. No other students are in the room, and I contemplate waiting out in the hall by my locker, but he wouldn't possibly start anything when students are expected to rush in at any given time. Nevertheless, I'm usually the first person here since my class before this one is across the hall and mostly everyone else goes to their lockers or take as long as they can to get to class.

Dark green eyes look up into my hazel ones and he stares at me for a few seconds. I feel uncomfortable under his stare, his judgmental gaze puts me in a box and makes me feel small compared to him.

"What?"

"Where did you go after you left?" he asks, not even looking up from the paper he was grading.

"Out," I answer while taking out my book and starting where I left off.

"No shit," he responds, and I feel his stare on me again. "You never answered when I asked you where you were going."

"I don't owe you anything."

Before he can say anything else, the class starts flooding in one by one and everyone takes their seats. They all chatter amongst themselves while I return back to my book.

"Okay class," Mr. Styles stands up and shoves his sleeves up to his elbows. "For the class period, I want you guys to write an essay about right and wrong and how the choices you make affect others. I know it may seem something you did when you were six, but it could possibly give you a new perspective on things. If you really try and let your words sink in, it could help you to start thinking about your choices. I want each and every one of your papers on my desk before you leave. Also, if they're well written, I'll put them in as bonus points."