Dark Thorns | Harry Styles AU

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Due to my art teacher's last minute hustling, I hadn't been able to catch her in the classroom and go over necessities for today's class. Having had the whole rest of the afternoon to do nothing, I decided it was better I'd canceled plans with Zara, anyway, and worked on finishing up defining terms and plastering them on the backs of index cards for my main course classes. I wasn't sure if my new teachers expected the first few chapters to be pre-studied, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

After doing so, I showered in the public restroom (my bathroom still useless due to the void spot in which a light bulb should be) and set my alarm for six-forty a.m. Finding my classrooms was easy enough, and much to my surprise, other students looked to be quite excited and ready for the semester as I was. Back in Texas, Mondays were known more as the day of the walking dead; at Dark Thorn, it was thriving and exciting.

I made it all the way through three classes before my stomach was threatening to start devouring my flesh and important organs. With fast steps, I quickly wove through students in the crowded hall and found myself outside the dining hall. Stepping aside, I pulled out my cell phone and texted Zara. If Monday's main dish was anywhere near as popular as Thursday's (which served the most butt-kicking tamales), then I knew the second I crossed the threshold that I would be swallowed into a room of chaos.

Zara quickly responded with directions to our table, mentioning that I better hurry because seats were going quick. Re-gripping the strap of my bag upon my shoulder, I entered the dining hall and headed for the food line. This morning I had skipped breakfast due to nerves, so as I approached a breakfast-serving section, my heart did a jig in my chest. French toast, bacon, and sloppy-looking scrambled eggs proved to be my food of choice. It surprised me that the food looked delicious when most schools have an unavoidable reputation for having the worst meals ever.

The line was quick and in record timing, I was weaving through people and following the path back to our reserved table. Just like a movie, I could tell which groups were labeled with what names simply by the way they behaved and dressed. I steered clear of some tables, taking note of people to avoid when, abruptly, I was cut off by a tall frame.

A lean boy with pale blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair whipped from his seat and towered over me with a vicious smirk. Immediately, I felt my chest constrict. That smile of his wasn't one of genuine politeness; it was one filled with snooty charm and juvenile tendencies. Crossing his arms, I stepped back to create distance between us.

"Excuse me," I weakly spoke, trying to move around him. The fact that his eyes shamelessly wandered up and down my body already had my skin in a crawl. Attention had never been one of my comforts.

He only chuckled. "Where do you plan on sitting, babe?"

I hated the way he referred to me. "With, uh, my friends."

He cocked a single brow, smirking over his shoulder at his table of delinquents before shifting and biting his lip. I wanted so badly for him to move aside and let me out of this awkward situation, but I feared he intended on using my discomfort as a technique to reeling me in.

"I'm sure my lap is more comfortable than any other seat," he winked; I felt like cringing. "Why don't you join me? – keep me warm?" I heard laughter rumble from his friend's lips but I was too frozen staring at him to look away.

"I rather not-"

"Look,"  he grabbed my forearm mid-brushing past him.

"I have friends waiting for me," I told him defensively, trying to pull from his steely grip.

"It wasn't a question," he spat, looking a lot less cocky and more intimidating. My shoulders were stiff to the point of believing a steel rod had been pierced through them, and this made his pulling at my frame much more inconvenient. Before I could protest, his hands were gripping my waist and in the process of pulling me down to occupy his lap.