I don't remember if Blake and the boys came back or how I even got home. As soon as I open my eyes I feel a headache from the brightness coming through the window.
I search everywhere for my phone and finally find it in a tangled mess of sheets. I have three missed calls from Lace, two from Blake, and one from Harry. Before I even look at the thousands of texts I recieved, I notice I've slept in. This would be fine if it was Saturday or even Sunday, but no it's Friday and I'm terribly late for my classes.
I jump out of bed and grab the closest article of clothing I could find. I smooth down my hair a bit before throwing on ripped jeans and slipping on some mocassins. I don't even bother to look in the mirror as I now I probaby look like a walking hurricane.
As I run across campus I check my phone and see a variety of messages asking where I am or in Harry's case Sleeping in too much don't you think?
I smile and reply to all of them Be there soon.x
I missed pretty much all of my classes today except English, which I'm now sprinting to make on time.
By the looks of the quietness in the hall I can already tell class has started.
"Shit, shit, shit." I curse running a little faster until I reach the classroom I was looking for.
Once I open the door, every single set of eyes in the room stops what they are looking at and glares at me. I don't see Professor Monroe any where and I question whether this is even the right classroom. I see Harry covering his laughter in the back of the room and relax a bit.
"Ah yes another late one. Come on in." an older man who I do not recognize says.
I walk back to the empty seat next to Harry and quietly put my stuff down.
"Wow thanks for showing up." Blake laughs and I nudge her.
"You sleep okay?" Harry jokes.
"Alright Alright I get it thanks guys." I chuckle and turn my attention towards the man in the front of the classroom.
"As I was saying before I was interrupted, My name is Professor John Windon and I will be your teacher for the rest of the semester. Professor Monroe has taken a leave of absence. I am quite capable of the job considering I have a PhD in English so don't worry about that. Let's get started shall we?"
"Hey, how are you feeling?" Harry leans over and whispers in my ear.
"A little groggy but I feel a lot better than last night." I smile.
"How did I get home anyways?" I ask but before he has time to answer, Professor Windon points his finger directly towards me. I have no idea what he has been talking about for the last couple minutes and I know he's probably going to ask me a question.
"How bout you Miss Late." he says finding his words so humorous.
"Actually it's Miss Owens. Can you repeat the question?" I say with a little too much attitude. Harry chuckles from next to me.
"Sure. What is the point to poetry?"
"Well surely there are many different points to poetry. It could be to express love, hatred, disgust, pleasure or maybe even all of those at the same time. Some poetry authors use it to describe the corruptness of the world they live in or even who they love. Or maybe they just have a lot on their mind and use 150 words to creative an image of a beautiful deer. There really isn't a point to poetry it just is a collection of thoughts really and that's what is so interesting about it." I ramble on, not relly knowing what I am even saying or if it even made sense.
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Burn // h.s
Fanfiction“You kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always phrased in terms of burning. The conflagration in his own veins, now, gave the answer." She's the candle that cannot burn without his flame. He's the fir...
