The Boarder || Harry Styles

Chapter 2

Autumn’s POV

I awoke with a start, cool beads of sweat drifting down from my forehead to the tip of my nose and flushed cheeks.  I wiped them away just a quickly as they fell.  Gradually, I opened my heavy eyelids, thick with night’s horrible sleep, to the room that was duly illuminated by the tiny Winnie the Pooh night light in the corner.  I scanned each wall; something I did every time I woke, then smacked my cheeks to make sure I was truly awake. Sitting up, I stretched, feeling a rush of cool air brushing against my skin. I hated nightmares. I looked down at my watch to see the time, realizing it was Wednesday.  I would have to find someone to help me get my classes, considering the fact that I had missed both my tour and first two classes I had this week because of jetlag.  I didn’t think they’d allow it, but I had permission to enroll for the end of fall term and the beginning of winter term until the end of the school year; I’d just have to work harder to prove myself.

I sighed before stumbling up, tripping over my own feet and tumbling back down to the floor.  Crawling sluggishly to my suitcase, I pulled out a pair of dungaree overalls, a plain maroon top, and a pair of low cut white converses.  Freshening up in the bathroom, I grabbed a leftover slice of cold pizza and headed out the door.  I didn’t mind walking since the school was only about ten minutes away.  Until it started to drizzle. Seriously?  Picking up my speed, I saw the lush green of the UCL field in the distant. Students sat on it, most in groups and some alone, not affected by the slight rainfall. One boy in particular caught my attention.  He was there alone, shining a silvery colored bow. “What the hell?” I whispered to myself. Surely weapons weren’t allowed on school grounds.  I stepped over towards him skeptically.  He didn’t seem like one to mind my presence, but who was I to know that?

“Hi, I just wondering if you knew where the art wing of the school is? I’m new here…”

I trailed off as he stared up at me, his face solemn.  He disregarded it and started to climb up the marble stairs of the entrance.  

“Follow me.” is all he said to me.  I quirked an eyebrow, but trailed after him anyway.  He led me up two flights of stairs and down a couple of hallways.  I watched his feet; how his toes pointed inward, how his figure seemed slightly slanted which made him look off balance.  He stopped abruptly at the doorway of one of the rooms and I nearly bumped into him.  

"Here we are,” he spoke, his voice a low rasp that sent a small shiver through my body.  I wasn’t sure why it affected me so much.  I took a seat on one of the stools and placed my backpack under the table. I quickly grabbed a piece of gum and put my headphones in my ears.  I wasn’t going to listen to anything, but I liked the comfort of it, was that weird?  

Soon enough the teacher walked in.  She seemed to be in her early forties,  her hair was in a bun with two pencils sticking out of it on either side.  She wore cat eyed glasses, a jean jacket, and a black gypsy skirt that fell down to her ankles.  I wouldn’t doubt that she had crazy love for art and deep quotes that no one would understood in her bag.

“Everyone take a seat,” she said clapping her hands together, beaming.  The mystery boy from earlier sat in a stool next to me.  His choice of clothing peaked my interest.  He wore a low cut black shirt, revealing part of his fair toned chest.  I could see some ink peaking out, but I couldn’t make out what it was.  His jeans had two slits on his knees that looked as if they were made purposely.  Both of his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows while he twirled his pencil absently, a sliver band ring on his middle finger.  He had a few tattoos adorning his wrist and arms.  I spotted a padlock, quotes that said ‘I can’t change’ on one of his wrists, each of his forearms read ‘Things I can’ and ‘Things I can’t’ and a cross on his thumb bone.  I couldn’t fathom how he could have so many tattoos.  

His hair was tousled up in something that resembled quiff and curls arranged themselves on the side of his head.  I'd spent so much time analyzing the boy that I hadn't realized how long I'd actually been basically gawking at him. I saw a small smirk grow on his face.  I turned away, tuning my attention back to what the teacher was saying.  What had gotten into me?

“...starting with pastels. Each table has two canvases per person and one packet of pastels. You may draw whatever you’d like and since it’s the first day for a certain someone-" she directed her stare towards me, "-you don’t have to worry about this being graded. Smocks are in the back,” she smiled before lifting her forefinger, remembering something. “Oh! And before I forget. Erasers are not allowed. You can always fix a mistake without the need of an eraser.” she continued on, but it wasn’t anything of great importance.

For some reason, I looked back at him and a small chuckled escaped my lips.  I played it off as a small cough, but luckily nobody noticed anyway. The way he was sitting was just so...  peculiar? His feet were on either side of the stool, his knees apart, as on of his hands on his was on his thigh as he leaned forward to begin working. I stared down at my own bare canvas, my mind blank as to what I should draw. I sighed before reaching to grab the black pastel, but paused as the curly haired boy beside me reached forward at the same time. He picked it up, handing it in my direction.

“You can use it... I’ll start with a different color,” he spoke and handed it to me with a small smile.  Before I could respond, he had already grabbed the red and started drawing.  He suddenly stopped, glancing at me from the corner of his eye and said:  “By the way, I’m Harry… I’m a boarder.”

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