Boys with Blue eyes

Chapter 17

*Harry's POV*

My breath hitched in my throat when she walked into English class. It might have only been eight forty five, but I was wide awake. I watched as she stepped into the classroom, her long, chestnut waves tumbling over her shoulders. I saw her blue eyes quickly skim over the students before her, brows creased, and I wondered briefly if she was looking for me. I sighed- she wouldn't be. I mean, why would she? She hates me. Kate hates me. However, for one glorious moment, her eyes mine. It was just a second, a fluke, an accident- but it happened. Even if she quickly averted her gaze and sat down in her seat.

"Ouch," Luke sniggered from behind me. So he noticed. Luke had remembered me from before I had left for Bristol, and we had basically picked up from where we had left off- 'kind-of-friends' who understood one another but teased the hell of each other in the process. "Emily not returning your calls?" I retorted smoothly. His grin immediately fell from his face. Well that shut him up. I patted him on the shoulder, "Don't worry," I said with a smile, "She'll want you when she needs you."

As Ms. Kelly graced us with her presence and called for our undivided attention, my attention was drawn back to Kate. She was sitting a row ahead of me, slightly to my right. Her hair glistened in the morning light, her lashes flittering as she listened to what Ms. was saying and scribbled down notes. I half expected her to turn around in her seat as she used to, and mouth 'You're on,' when our teacher would explain our next assignment. We would usually tie score-wise. Or else I would win. We would run out of the classroom, Papers in hand, and she would ask me for some of my brain. "You're annoyingly smart, you know that?" She would laugh. "And you love it," I'd reply. I Remember how my heart would beat faster in my chest as I said that word, love, and I would glance at her quickly to find some reaction, to suss out whether or not she felt something for me too. Once I did notice a slight tinge of pink in her cheeks, and that gave me hope, but she had quickly recovered and muttered a clever retort. I had still tried, though. That fateful night in out treehouse, I had finally confessed. Everything. Well, almost everything. I never told her that I was going- how, when, why, but I had thought that she didn't need to know. I didn't want her to know, to think any differently of me. But I did tell her that I loved her, and that was all that mattered.

It still is. I still do. I thought I could fight it, stay away from her, from the memories... But look how that turned out. I managed to avoid her for what? Three seconds? And that was it, I stopped fighting against her and started fighting for her. Not that it matters now... She thinks I am some sort of player. She thinks I'm like... Brandon. I feel the slight lump on my cheek. It stings slightly at my touch, but it is absolutely nothing compared with what I would have taken for her. I meant what I said to that slime-ball of a football player. He touches her again? I will end him. If she doesn't before me. That is another thing... She also feels as though I am some sort chauvinist and thinks I undermine her ability of defending herself. I stare at the back of her head, willing her to listen: I swear, Kate, I'm not. I just cannot stand seeing scum like him hurting you. Do you expect me to stand there and watch? If only you'd listen.

I then remind myself of what she accused me of. Kissing Jessica? What twisted liar came up with that one? I throw a death glare at Cathy, who is seated right next to Kate. How could she? I shiver at the thought of what happened at Brandon's party. How she came closer and closer, fooling me into thinking that she didn't feel well and was looking for Kate. I had actually thought she was about to faint when her lips suddenly came crashing into mine, her arms snaking around my neck like a noose. Her lips were wet and thin, and tasted of cheap alcohol. it was rough and disgusting and I immediately panicked, grabbing her wrists and trying to force her face off mine without hurting the girl. Part of me still wanted to believe she was just a poor, drunk girl who needed help. That is when I saw her, Kate, fleeing around the side of the house. Without even bothering to get angry at Cathy I had pushed her away and Followed Kate, desperate to tell her exactly what happened before Cathy could. That snivelling Cathy... She is so lucky that she isn't a boy- I never would dare hit a girl. Even if she does deserve it. I pray that Kate's two other friends are nothing like Cathy. She deserves the best.

I have so much explaining to do. I groan, running my hand through my hair. I hate my new style, it's too short, and too common, but Jenny insisted on me getting it. 'A new school, a new you!' She had insisted. If only she knew. And anyhow, When did my dad's girlfriend have an opinion on how my hair should look? Trust Dad to date a hairdresser.

Kate thanks Ms. Kelly for her sheet as she passes them around. I have to talk to her- explain everything, see her smile again. Smile because of me. I scribble a quick note and motion to Gary to pass it across to Kate.

Ms. Kelly slaps a sheet down in front of me. I nod in thanks before reading the first question:

'Describe, using reference to the text, what you think Shakespeare's lover might have looked like.'

I glance at Kate who is frantically writing in her notebook. Oh, this is all too easy.