Falling Fast - L.S

5

"Sorry I'm late, sir," Harry said, not sounding sorry at all. He loped over to the nearest desk and leaned casually against it. "Something I had to do after class."

My heart pounded.

Harry was extraordinary. Everyone was looking at him, and yet he didn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed.

"Right, well you're here now." Mr Nichols coughed nervously.

I held my breath. Was that it?

Mr Nichols hesitated. I was sure he wanted to tell Harry off properly, but something was holding him back.

Harry stared at the teacher, his arms folded, a look of contempt on his face.

Mr Nichols turned his attention to the two boys playing Servants 1 and 2. They started saying their lines. Badly. Mr Nichols stopped them and explained in some detail what the lines meant. The boys gave lots of meaningful nods and 'oh yeahs', snatching looks at Taylor whenever they could.

I was avoiding looking at Harry. The power of his presence was making me feel off balance somehow.

I couldn't explain it. He was like a thunderstorm waiting to happen. Like when the air gets all heavy and you can almost feel the rumbling before you hear the thunder itself.

Very slowly, I raised my eyes a little, so I could see his face. He was staring at his shoes. They were worn and scuffed. In fact - I stared at his shirt and trousers- all his clothes looked worn.

I hadn't noticed before, but the knees of his trousers were shiny, almost threadbare, and you could see lines at the bottoms of the legs where the hems must have been let down.

None of this stopped him from looking totally cool.

Suddenly the hairs on my neck prickled. He was looking at me, I knew he was. Oh God, he'd seen me staring at him. I averted my eyes to the floor, then let them travel sideways.

I was sure he was looking at me. I glanced up.

The intensity of his stare almost knocked me out. His face was rigid. Furious. Almost like he was challenging me not to laugh at him.
I stared back; a fish caught on a hook. Why was he so angry?

My heart was pummelling at my chest now, so loudly it was drowning out Mr Nichols. I wanted to look away. But I couldn't. It was like Harry was holding me in his gaze, pinning me down.

As we looked at each other, the hard look in his eyes softened. He wasn't smiling exactly, but at least he didn't seem angry any more.

I gazed at him, mesmerised by his face, by the shape of it, the lines of it. It was obviously a good-looking face, and there was something about it - something... well... beautiful. His eyes were certainly beautiful. In the bright overhead light they shone emerald, like a grassy meadow.

And then Mr Nichols' voice boomed out more loudly. "Once more, then, and we'll move on to Romeo noticing Juliet for the first time."

Harry looked away.

As everyone bustled about, saying lines, listening to explanations, Harry moved slowly towards the centre of the room.

He walked, as before, in that loping, slightly swaggering way of his. This hot, powerful glow radiated through my whole body. It was terrifying how strong it was. How it took me over. How I knew what it meant, instinctively, even though I'd never felt anything like it before.

I wanted him to touch me. To kiss me... I looked down at my hands. They were actually shaking.

Harry started speaking. Oh my God. I'd forgotten what a brilliant actor he was. He was in a totally different league from the others. He finished his speech, his voice low and trembling.