Rising Up From Ruin - Ziam (AU)

Chapter 9 - Our Own Little Loop-Hole

Liam’s P.O.V.

9:36 a.m.—Monday—January 7, 2013

            We were in the middle of the morning lesson, and I found it incredibly hard to concentrate. Zayn was studying my face, I knew it, I could feel his eyes on me as I read over the words on the board.

            “Alright, you will be paired up with a partner to do the next English paper.” Sister Elizabeth said, grabbing her clipboard. She began to list off names, and I prayed that I could be paired up with Louis, or Harry, or maybe even Zayn. Here at St. Xavier’s we were taught in really small groups. All the seventeen year-olds were in my group—meaning me, Zayn, Harry, Louis, Griffin, and a few others. Niall, unfortunately, was in the younger group of kids, because he was only fifteen.

            “Liam, and…” Elizabeth scanned over her list, “Griffin,”

            My heart started pounding in my chest, and I felt Zayn go all cold beside me. I didn’t want to work with Griffin. I would rather do the entire project on my own.

            Suddenly, Zayn was standing.

            “Can I help you, Zayn?” Sister Elizabeth asked, her eyebrows raised.

            “I would like to work with Griffin instead,” Zayn said, his voice flat and showing no emotion. I saw Griffin smirk from the front of the classroom and chuckle sickly.

            “I’m sorry, Zayn, that’s not how this works. Please have a seat,”

            Zayn’s eyes were still fixed on Sister Elizabeth, but he slowly sat down, his muscles clenched. Why was he always so protective of me? And why did I like it so much?

            “Alright, get talking with your partners. You’ll have the next thirty minutes to discuss a topic for the joint paper. It must in someone include the literary techniques we have been discussing, and also include some tie to God. Now, you may begin.”

            People stood and moved, Harry working with Louis, and Zayn working with one of the other boys, I think his name was Ed. I stayed seated, knowing that Griffin would move to me. Sure enough, he got up and walked lazily over to me, sitting in the seat beside me.

            “Hope we don’t have to give the presentation orally,” Griffin said, his lips close to my ear, “Wouldn’t that be tragic,”

            I bit my lip and refused to look at him.

            “It would take us hours to give our report with you little stutter,” He laughed, “So pathetic…”

            I tried not to let his words get to me, but they stung. No matter how many times I heard them, they stung.