The Saint's Lips

Chapter Nine

By the time the bell rings after first period on Monday morning, my mind is already racing. The familiar rustle of boots and running shoes against the hard linnoleum flooring of the school pounds in my ears as the class rushes out and into their next period. I felt a little strange in History working with Harry while the comfort of Liam wasn't behind me. He didn't show up for class this morning, which is extremely unlikely.

I make my way, soundlessly and as inconspicuously as I can manage, through the crowded halls. The routine transition from summer holidays back to school has fully settled, and some girls are even beginning to wear their usual track pants and messy hair. After a couple of weeks, most of our high school ends up looking like they've just rolled out of bed.

Quietly, shoulders hunched, head down, books in hand, I walk quickly to the English classroom. When I arrive in the doorway, no one has gathered at their seats yet, so I go to sit in my usual spot. To my disappointment, as the students begin trickling in slowly, neither Niall nor Katherine show up to join the empty seats around me.

Thankfully, just as the bell rings, Niall comes rushing into the classroom and takes his seat next to me, panting as he sets his books down on his desk. Miss Briston has yet to arrive herself, and he gives me a breathless smile.

"Why are you late?" I ask and he waves his hand to dismiss the topic, shaking his head carelessly.

"I'll tell you later." He shrugs.

I sigh and begin taking out my books, until Miss Briston finally walks in. She holds a hand up to the class and shakes her head.

"Don't take your things out just yet. We're going to rearrange the seating." She tells the classroom, which seems to me pretty juvenile for a senior class.

She then begins with the rearrangement of the classroom. First she moves the girls who seem to have disrupted the class a couple of times with their laughter and joking, then she separates the boys who can't seem to be quiet around each other, and next she places me in the back of the class. I sigh and plop my things down, only to realize that Harry is sitting next to me.

"Well isn't this convenient." He says, with a smug smile that still indents his cheeks with those character defining dimples.

"Sure." I say through a half interested, half leave-me-the-fuck-alone sigh.

"Well aren't we grumpy today." He says, and rearranges himself in his seat so that he sits up straighter. His signature black has yet to change, and it leaves me wondering whether he has anything in his wardrobe that isn't black.

"I'm not grumpy, just tired." I tell him and lay my head down on the desk as if to physically prove my point.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Harry asks in a low, but tight voice that seems a little out of character.

"Not here today. He's not even in this class." I answer, without bothering to deny Liam as my boyfriend. Harry doesn't seem to listen anyway, so I figure what's the point in even trying?

"What? So you mean he is your boyfriend then?"

I turn my head to face him, and he looks down at me from my tilted view of him. He has his legs stretched out onto the chair in front, but his posture has straightened a little since my head went down.

"No, not that you would bother believing me though." I give him a curious glance, and pop my head back up to look at him normally. "Why, does it matter?" I say through slitted eyes and a slight quirk to the corners of my lips.

"Don't flatter yourself too much princess." He rolls his eyes, and his momentarily hitched tone has returned to the completely guarded low voice he held the first day I met him.

"Why do you always have to be such an ass? Every time I think you're being normal, you go ahead and act like a douche again. It's getting a little old already." I tell him, and through my whispered speech I can hear the teacher clear her voice.

"Ava, is there a problem with the new seating?" She asks and I don't hesitate in my answer.

"Yes, actually. I'm not sure I feel comfortable in the back." I tell her through a clear and hopefully calm enough voice that doesn't give away my momentary frustration with Harry.

"I'm not sure it's being at the back that is the problem here." She raises her perfectly plucked eyebrow at me under her black rimmed glasses, and I slouch down in my seat. She makes it clear in her implication that Harry is the distraction, and I hear a couple of girls snicker at the teacher's response.

I don't bother responding, since it was an obvious end to the conversation. I've been slightly humiliated for having talked to Harry, and at this point, this British guy is really beginning pluck at my nerve endings.

"Apparently I'm too much of a distraction." Harry leans over and whispers so quietly in my ear that even I can barely hear him.

I cast him a glowering glance that will hopefully shut him up for good this time. In the few seconds that I give him my look, his playful green eyes meet mine, and I spot rims of blue around their edges. His short sleeved black shirt rests lightly against his tanned and inked skin. The few patterns that I caught from a distance at the beach can be seen closely now. His left arm is adorned with flower patterns, intertwined together in a colourful sort of vine garden. From afar I hadn't noticed how much colour was set in his tattoos, but from this close I can see the different flowers that hug at the curves of his muscles on his arms.

"I know I'm beautiful and all, but you really need to quit staring." Harry whispers without glancing at me. I forget when our gazes broke, or when he mastered the art of smirking, but he's taking notes that I hadn't realized were being written on the board, and trying to hide his clear amusement at my staring.

I don't answer him in an attempt to show some sort of carelessness, but I can feel that my attempts are far from successful. His eyes peak over at me as I write, and I can see his smile begin to grow.

~~

The final tick of the clock signals the bell to ring, and students rush out of their last period classrooms to head with their friends to their cars, or rush to their parents who are waiting for them outside to take them home. I allow myself to fall behind, willingly letting the mass of students shuffle quickly out of the classroom before I make my way towards my car.

The parking lot frenzy is over by now, and as I lift my head to unlock my sleek black mini cooper, I see a tall thin frame leaning against it. I instinctively walk up to the unidentified stranger leaning against my car, and I'm about ready to tell him off when he spins his head to look in my direction.

Fuck. Harry.

"Get off my car." I tell him when I realize who he is, and have no more energy for his games.

"I need a lift." He says, and I roll my eyes at him and drop my hands to my sides in exasperation.

"Can't you ask someone else to take you?" I say in an almost whiny voice.

"That would be much too inconvenient, especially since we live right across the street from each other." He says in a smart retort before turning to get into the car. I hadn't realized I'd already unlocked it, but his being able to open the side door proves my momentary lapse in judgement.

I sigh before climbing into the driver's seat, too exasperated with the day to argue against Harry's presence, and pull out of the school parking lot.