The Saint's Lips

Chapter Thirteen

The blaring alarm clock forces my eyes awake as the time flashes across the digital screen: 7:00am and I groan in protest to the early morning. The first thing I do is fling the covers off of my bed, and sit up hoping to wake my eyes who don't seem to want to fully open.

By 7:30 I've completed my simple t-shirt and jean shorts with a pair of flowered sneakers and then grab a bagel before rushing out to my car. It takes a while to open the car door which creaks in protest until I can finally sit in the front seat. The whole car is steamed with stagnant hot air from the night before, and I blast the air conditioning to cool my already sweating skin.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE MUM, I'M WALKING." I hear a distant shout from the house across the street, and rearrange the rearview mirror to see who it is.

Not surprisingly, I see Harry, cheeks flared with anger, and hair tousled in tangles along his fingers. He runs strained hands through his curls in frustration and I allow myself to stare at him, unnoticed and unsupervised. He seems strangely vulnerable compared to the usual façade he puts up at school. I can see him mumbling to himself under his breath, then he turns to flip off the space between him and his house before spinning back around, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

I make the quick decision to start the car so that he doesn't think I was staring at him for this long. When the engine revs I can see him snap his head in the direction of my car as I pull out of the driveway, and onto the street while he walks.

When we're parallel to each other, he gives me a sideways glance, and I slow the car to his walking speed, rolling down the window as I do.

"Sounds like you need a ride." I tell him, and he scoffs putting his ringed fingers into his black jean pocket.

"Sounds like somebody's desperate."

The disdainful tone of his voice has an immediate effect on me. I can't help but change my mood within the few seconds following his harsh remark.

"I was just trying to be nice. Have fun being late for History." I say, and revv the engine before speeding off, leaving a flustered 6 feet tall British boy behind in the wake of the engine smoke.

~~

"Hey, I thought you were going to be late." Liam tells me as I slam my books down on to the minimal desk space in front of me. We've resumed to sitting next to each other in History, except for when Mr. Higgins insists on working with our partners.

"I got sidetracked." I tell him, my voice coming out harsh and constricted. Thankfully, Liam doesn't seem to take much notice to my clear upset in mood.

I spare a glance at his profile, and his spiked brown hair and casual ensemble seem to fit perfectly with his personality. He's both a confident and shy person, with wickedly good grades, an amazing work ethic, as well as an admittedly beautiful physique. I don't think I've seen any of the guys in the rest of this school with as much of a strong workout regime as Liam, nor have I seen them with the same size arm muscles as him. He gets his nickname "The Payne Train" from his last name, Payne, along with the included workout schedule that he keeps up with. Every time I ask him what he's up to, he's either studying or at the gym.

When Mr. Higgins walks into the classroom, the bell rings shortly afterward, and he goes to close the door. I allow the hint of a smile to play at the corners of my lips when thinking about Harry running in late to class.

Mr. Higgins then continues on to the attendance, calling out the names of each of my peers. I glance around the room, looking at the familiar yet unknown faces. Most of the people in my year, I could name off by looking at them, and every time Katherine comes rushing over with the odd gossip about someone, I can identify who she's talking about. I haven't, however, really had the chance to get to know much of these people outside of the classroom. Anyone who isn't a part of my circle of friends, doesn't usually tend to invite me anywhere, not that I would agree to go in the first place. I haven't been out to a party since the pre-diagnosis of my dad, and I was probably about sixteen back then. Parties when you're sixteen aren't exactly the same raging parties I hear about from Kat.

The class is in full swing, meaning I'm hurriedly writing down the notes from the chalkboard, when Harry walks through the door. He pauses to look at Mr. Higgins who turns to glance at him, along with the rest of the class. Harry should be used to the stares by now, so I doubt it has any effect on him. In fact, I'm convinced that he lives for these moments.

"Mr. Styles, how honoured we all are to be graced with your presence." Mr. Higgins says sarcastically, warranting a few light chuckles from the class.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, sir." Harry responds with a cheeky grin that exposes his dimples.

More whispers, more light chuckles, and all it seems to do is fuel Harry's confidence.

"Please take your seat then." Mr. Higgins responds, and surprisingly I see a grin make its way on to his wrinkled cheeks. If there was any evidence of Mr. Higgins' smile, he makes sure to hide it by turning back to his chalkboard writing.

Before I continue my note taking, I allow myself to watch Harry saunter over to his seat at the back of the class. He shrugs his black backpack off and takes out a single, wrinkled, sheet of paper. When he asks the girl in front of him for a pen, she jumps in her seat and rumages through her pencil case to grab one. She doesn't seem to have an extra pen, so instead she hands him the one she was using. She's red faced and flustered by the time she picks out a pencil to write with instead.

I turn my head back around to see Liam watching me from the seat to my right. He doesn't seem worried that he just caught me staring at Harry, and I find myself feeling flustered. I avert his gaze immediately and continue with the notes.

~~

By the time class finishes I wave Liam off to his next class and stand a little awkwardly outside of the door frame, waiting for everyone else to trickle slowly out of it. When Harry finally comes out, I immediately walk over to him, and he gives me a quick glance before turning his head. I follow beside him, and he doesn't spare me another glance.

"Uhh, hey." I say, rather awkwardly.

"Little miss temper tantrum come back for some more?" He says and I look up to see the familiar smirk shape his lips.

"No, more like I need you to text me the address to the party tonight." I tell him, watching the masses in the hall not only stare as Harry and I walk by together, but part so that we have a clear path.

"I'd need your phone number for that." Harry answers, still unable to spare me another glance, although not without wiping the smirk from his face.

"Here." I place the ripped sheet of paper with my number on it that I wrote down quickly in History class, onto the textbook that he has in his hands. It balances on the book, before he looks it over, and finally gives me a still smirking glance.

I see him pick it up with a quick swift flick of his long, ringed fingers and place it carefully into the tight pocket of his jeans. He continues to stare at me, his smile widening, before turning on his heel and walking down the parting corridor to his next class.