Into The Night

Twenty-One

"You got me in trouble. . . again." Her words harshly stung and echoed inside my mind.

And then I shook my head from that thought, again! I anxiously kept running scenarios in my head of how Taylor would react. All I'm thinking of us she might react violently. I can't get it out of my head. Regardless whoever it is, I always come clean whenever someone else gets the blame –unless that someone is a bastard and then well, he can go fuck himself. But Taylor isn't bad at all. . .

Oh goodness.

I headed down the hall from our History class where l passed the principal's office. Speaking of principal's office, I've never seen her before. Aerielle once told me never to try and find out. . . because as Kendall said it, they used to have a Dumbledore as their principal but now we have Dolores Umbridge. . . I don't like the sound of that.

It was only a matter of seconds when I stopped in my tracks and turned my heel to face a direction. I saw the worst words in the entire century right before me. Guidance Counselor. There was a name too, Samuel Bells. I snickered once I read that name.

When I've finally composed myself, I knocked on the door, and someone opened it.

Taylor gasped and her eyes widened. She stopped opening the door and looked at me, "What the heck are you doing here?!" She whisper-yelled.

I'm confused. This is nothing, nowhere near to what I've expected. I've expected her to come yelling at me, and not whispering like she wanted me to get out of the guidance where I'm suppose to be punished.

"Uh, you've been accidentally framed." I uttered, very confused.

"I know that. I got it covered." She said.

"What?" I asked, I'm not even getting a single word she is saying.

"Get out of here, please."

"Again, what?" I cannot read her. In the many scenarios I've ran inside my head, this one is definitely unexpected. Is she — is she really trying to cover for me? Doesn't she want me to come clean?!

"Victorian Era, don't tell me that you're covering up for the rain." I said, quite unsure of what I'm saying. . . and what is happening.

She groaned in annoyance. "Look, Styles, I'm not even going to comment at that nickname. I'm not covering up for you, if you say it was you, we're both in trouble, do you want that?"

Heck no! My mind rung up to answer a million no's. But, the thing is, I cannot just let Taylor take the blame, I never do that.

"No way." I said stubbornly. If she thinks she's going to have me follow her like she's a princess, sorry, no.

She almost banged her head against the wall in frustration. She groaned first before going out. She closed the door behind her.

"Harry, please. We're both going to be in trouble if you say it was you. I've already admitted it was me because I didn't --" she paused, blinking a few seconds after her heartfelt, spoken feelings, "Just please go? Please. At least here, they know I do things, or at least used to. They can let me slide. And you?"

"I honestly wouldn't care." I replied dryly, "Look, I accidentally framed it on you and I have to change that. You have parents who will scold you when you get home, I only have the leprechaun."

She laughed at the most untimely moment yet calmed herself just a few seconds later. "My parents aren't home and even if they are, I won't be burned for it. You, on the other hand will get your sorry ass back in England."

"Whoo, tough language, Swift."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm serious!"

"No, you're Taylor." I teased and laughed, my eyes almost shutting.