Unlawful - Harry Styles. (Student/Teacher)

Part 12

There isn't much I can say to get myself out of trouble. I'm expecting to be bombarded with questions on my disappearance from the fundraiser as soon as I go to class; It wouldn't be the first time, Lydia had already managed to do the same as that only yesterday; as soon as I entered the room through the window she had managed to rack my brain of everything that had happened.

I only told her about Zayn of course, there is no way I'd say anything about Mr Styles now. He could get in serious trouble for what he did and despite some of the cruel things he has done to me, truth be told that's the last thing I want for him. I know he never means to hurt me, I just don't think he cares enough to realise what it is he is doing. There is no point denying how much I care for him now, I can only try to stop the feelings as the grow by focusing on the fact he does not share them and he never will.

Lydia was slightly confused as to why I left in the first place, but I managed to steer her from that topic by focusing on Zayn. It was different, definitely not how I suspected it would be like. The house he had managed to save from his step-brother the night of the party was merely his family home, he actually has his own apartment further into the city; further than us as students are technically allowed to go without sharing our exact whereabouts with the school along with an a-okay from our guardians. And it was, well huge. He was obviously rich, his apartment may aswell be the size of a small house. Two stories of white walls and white carpet; it was kind of, beautiful?

"Hey," he had said smirking at me, "it's not always like this, so empty and clean I mean, usually its crowded with all the wrong type of people. They aren't so bad though."

I slept in the room next to him, and when I awoke the next day, it was noon. He was downstairs watching something on his tv; a flat screen at least 60 inches long. There wasn't much after that, we flirted a little and I made him and myself some lunch, since apparently he can't cook, and I quote, 'for shit.'

He drove me back to school late afternoon, because after we got to talking we couldn't stop. For once nothing someone did reminded me of Mr Styles and I was grateful of that. It drew me in all the more, the feeling of getting away from him indescribable. Somewhere deep inside of me I grow more and more empty with the lingering thoughts of my professor, and the less I think of him the more whole I feel.

I climbed the tree back up to my room and let myself in through the window. I probably could of just walked in and got caught by one of the hall monitors right there and then, but I wasn't in the mood for a lecture.

Even now, as I walk to my first class of the day I'm not looking forward to the trouble I most certainly will be in.

...

It's period four and I have yet to be called up to the office or collected from class. I sit now in English, by myself as Lydia and Niall are sitting together. Lydia half looked apologetic when I originally walked in, but when she saw my smile she knew I was just as happy as she was. Niall scrunched up his face at me knowing very well what I was thinking.

Mr Styles walks in and begins teaching straight away, his eyes barely ever leaving mine throughout the entire lesson. I don't give him the satisfaction of looking back, I make it obvious I'm not interested in what he has to say or what he is trying to teach us.

When it's almost time for the bell he calmy asks for me to stay behind and the fact that he will probably be sending me to the principle is making me slightly nervous. Leaving school like I did is forbidden and seems to be the type of thing your parents get called up for. The last thing I want is to have a conversation with them about this, getting a call from them once a week is enough.

When the classroom is empty and only Mr Styles and myself remain behind, it is he who speaks first without a second of hesitation.

"Where did you go?" He asks, not sounding furious or demanding.. almost sad in a way.