✯The Secret Heir✯

V

Song for the Chapter :
Rain ~ The Script

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I spot him.

He nonchalantly leans against the doorframe to a classroom, looking so chilled like he hasn't just sprinted up three flights of stairs, back down one and run the same length as a half marathon. Not a single item of clothing is out of place, from his jet black skinny jeans to his bright green t-shirt, complementing his dark hair and accentuating his grassy-green eyes perfectly. His leather jacket is slung casually around his arms and I watch him effortlessly shrug it on as he gives me a small smirk.

'Can you please refrain from so openly admiring me like that, you're embarrassing yourself.'

I gasp at his forthrightness, blushing slightly, before covering it up with a wicked smirk. Then, without giving him warning I charge at him.

I see a pure look of dread cross his face but just as I'm about to let my battle cry of death out of the bag a piercing shrill cuts in instead of my voice.

The late bell.

'Shit!' I murmur, more to myself then anyone else and look around for any signs of familiarity.

'Miss Perkins, English.'

'What?'

'I SAID,' He says, bringing his voice to a suitably loud volume before pointing to the classroom that is currently filling up with students 'MISS PERKINS ENGLISH'

I stare dumbfounded at the classroom, expecting some sort of surprise attack , so I peek my head in to find the classroom slowly filling up and bored students grudgingly settling down into the seats, the back row filling up the quickest.

'Oh jee uh...' I say, not really sure how to react to this kind gesture, ' thank you so much...er...'

He immediately jumps in, his hand sticking out enthusiastically, 'Noah Thomas, a pleasure to be your lowly peasant.' he says bringing my hand to his lips, pecking it softly.

I laugh and curtesy, 'Queen Mae of England, the one and only.'

I laugh and just look at him before I do the smoothest move I have accomplished in a life time.

I walk into the framework of the door.

~~~~

I twirl my pen around my finger.

Two minutes left.

I sit up in my chair and grab my water, chugging half the bottle before throwing it back into my bag.

One minute left.

I watch as the most boring teacher in the world draws her hand slowly up to the board with her own before painstakingly writing the word 'the' as if she had all the time in the world.

Freedom.

I finally breathe a sigh of relief as I hear the ring of the bell and even before the teacher has put down her red pen, I have shot out the door. Let's just say English is not my favourite lesson, especially when the 58 year old teacher who is dressed like a child spends 30 minutes lecturing some kid on how, and I quote 'punctuality is key to success in any form.'