Here comes the sun - Larry

CHAPTER 6

Emily and I wake up too late. Her body is pressed against mine, warm and sweaty, but we don't have time to shower, especially not when I need to stop by my house to get my uniform. First period began ten minutes ago, yet we're still half-naked, rushing ourselves to get out of the door sooner than later. Emily puts her hair in a ponytail without brushing it first, which is unexpected, but I love her for moving things along as quickly as possible. As soon she's in her uniform, we rush out of the door and into my car. I let her do what she needs to in the mirror while I run inside to get into my uniform. The hallways are empty when we finally arrive at school, but Emily is walking backwards towards our classroom, trying her best to tie my tie while we're on the move.

"There you go," she says, turning around right before we get to where we need to be.

"Thank you," I rush out, kissing her quickly before we walk inside.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson," our teacher says, sounding rather irritated by the interruption, that being despite the joke.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"It was my fault," Emily explains. "I forgot to set an alarm."

"I don't care about your excuses."

I lock eyes with Harry right before he rolls them at me, presumably not believing Emily's explanation. He's writing in that stupid notebook again, half the paragraphs crossed out. I don't understand why he's constantly writing if he's just crossing it all out anyway. I ignore his eye-roll, then sit down at the table next to his. I find a block of post-it notes in my backpack, then scribble down the words pay attention before I hand it to him.

He snorts in response, perhaps a little too loud. He draws unnecessary attention to himself, but he doesn't acknowledge it, just writes down a response and hands the note back to me: I was here on time. I believe that counts for something. Maybe you should stop fucking your girlfriend on school nights and stay home instead. Might help you get up on time.

I roll my eyes, then turn the post-it note over so I can write on the back instead: Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't fuck her.

He smirks when he reads it, then swiftly writes a response before he hands it back: Didn't wanna disturb her parents or what?

I take a new post-it: For one.

Are they strict? he writes back.

Not really, but I don't think they'd appreciate hearing me fuck their daughter.

Live a little, Louis.

Like when you're plucking flowers from the side of the road?

His expression falls before he crumbles up the note. I study him for a moment, but he refuses to meet my eyes. I didn't mean to cross the line with him, but how was I suppose to know it was there? I figured it was just flowers, that the meaning behind it wasn't all that sensitive to him.

He turns back to writing in his notebook. He continues throughout the rest of class, but I don't have it in me to stop him when he's so clearly upset. I can't see what he's writing, given that he's keeping a hand in front of the words, but I'm curious. I don't know why, but for some reason, it's intriguing that he's spending so much time writing when he's just crossing it out again. I can tell by his expression that he doesn't want to cross it out, but he's doing it anyway, presumably because he can't find the right words.

***

"Louis," Liam asks, catching up to me on the field, "what's gotten your mind so occupied today?"