The Saint's Lips

Chapter Ten

I make sure to roll the windows down and allow the heat from outside to pour in. My car picks up speed as I pull on to the highway, and I'm thankful for the noise that the wind brings. Otherwise Harry and I might actually have to talk to each other, something that gives me the distinct feeling might not go too well.

It isn't until the front windows begin rolling up without my authority, that I look around curiously. Harry's long thin fingers, still adorned with the same silver rings, haphazardly placed along whichever finger suits him best, are hooked on the button that controls each window.

The sound is cut off at the neck by the closing of the windows, and I sigh before blasting the air conditioning.

"Is it really so hard to talk to me?" Harry asks, and I keep my eyes glued to the road ahead, reluctant to give him the satisfaction of my answer.

"What did I do to warrant the silent treatment, exactly?" He asks another question, and this time I sigh with pursed lips and a mind fraught with tension at the uncomfortable situation.

"Nothing, I don't even know you." I tell him, and he gives a light chuckle in response.

"You seem to hate me pretty well for someone who doesn't know me." He responds, and I mull over his retort in my mind. I find myself agreeing with the statement, but I can't bring myself to admit it.

"Don't you have your own car?" I decide to change the subject, all the while taking care to watch the cars that fly by around me. A few of them honk, but I ignore the road rage of other drivers.

"Not exactly. Zayn drove me in this morning." He answers while slouching in the seat next to me.

I find myself wondering how he can wear not only black clothing, a colour that inevitably soaks up the heat of the sun, but jeans and boots and a black beanie along with it. I'm not sure how he even manages to breathe in the hot Californian weather without so much as passing out from the scorching heat.

"So why can't Zayn drive you back?" I ask, without trying to hide my irritation.

"Because he's taking some girls to the beach." Harry answers nonchalantly.

"And why didn't you just go with them?" I ask, as if it's the obvious solution to his problem of becoming stuck at school without a ride.

"Because I don't want to get wasted on a Monday night." He says, with what seems to be growing irritation on his part. I wonder if my questions are beginning to bother him as much as his presence bothers me. 

"Okay." I say shortly, attempting to avoid any uncomfortable conversation that his irritated tone might lead us to.

"When are we going to get this History project done then?" He asks, and I give an exasperated sigh, this time from the thought of doing a bunch of homework.

"You don't have to worry about it." I tell him impatiently, as my mind automatically begins running through all the things I have to do. When Kat, Liam, Niall or Louis are absent, I usually photocopy or send them pictures of the coursework from the classes we have together. There's that, then I have to at least start working on the project, and then Miss Briston also assigned some English homework. I remind myself that I have to tell Kat about the homework, although Niall might be able to tell her...

"I'm not going to let you do it alone." Harry says, as if offended by whatever implication my last statement had.

"Well, I didn't think you'd want to do any of it." I say, feeling as if I need to defend my earlier assessment of his intentions for the project.

"I don't want to, but I will. It's homework, and we've been partnered together so it's only fair I actually help." He says to me, and as I turn on to our street, I chance a look at him from the corner of my eye.

I pull into my driveway, knowing that Harry will just walk across the street to his own home, and turn the car off before attempting to open the door. When I find it to be locked I turn quickly to unlock it, only to see Harry's ringed fingers are blocking the button.

"Do you mind?" I look up at him, and he's staring back down at me from the seat that I realize now isn't too far from my own.

"I do." He says simply, and the perfectly crafted smirk is back, tugging playfully at the corners of his mouth. It's as if his lips know exactly which degree angle to lift, and by how much, to make it the perfect mixture of mischief and intrigue, all within the small confinement of his mouth.

When I don't press him with questions immediately, and decide to sit back in the driver's seat, my arms crossed and my school bag firmly lifted on to my lap, he relaxes.

"Have you told anyone that my parents showed up at your house?" He asks me, and I'm a little confused by the very question that brought us to be History class partners.

"No? Well, I guess I told Kat that you lived across the street, does that count?" I ask him in return. He shifts in his seat, making sure to keep his fingers steady above the button that would keep me from this conversation.

"So long as you didn't mention my parents." He states, and I shake my head to signal that I didn't.

"I'm not sure if you'll answer me, but why is it such a big deal?" I ask, thinking to myself that he'll deviate the conversation anywhere but to the answer of my question. Somehow, the subject seems too vulnerable, especially for someone like Harry. He hides behind black clothing and dark moods in the light of California.

"Are you trying to get to know me?" He's turned the air back into a teasing atmosphere, and I roll my eyes, mentally giving myself five bucks for betting he wouldn't answer.

"Forgive my curiosity." I say in a mocking tone, and I shift in my seat as if to ask permission to leave my own car. When his ringed fingers don't move from the button, I sigh with a little too much frustration laced into my tone.

"Would you calm down, you blasted so much air conditioning in this car that we could sit here for hours." He tells me, and I give him a sideways glare.

"I wasn't worried about the heat." I say simply. "So, if there's anything else I can do for you..." I continue, attempting to make light at my own frustration of the whole situation.

"Yes, actually, now that you mention it. I could do with a favour."

I give a light chuckle, expecting his tone to replicate that of my own jokes, but when it doesn't, I stop to stare at his serious green eyes. They look back at me, hauntingly beautiful, and reveal no sign of teasing.

"What could I ever do for you?" I ask, incredulous.

"You could come with me to a party this Friday."