You slammed the blue lockers, fingers scrapping the material of the sketch pad. It took everything in your body to not jump out of your seat and slap Harry in his face. Thank the lord Zachariah stood up for you, the only Caucasian in the class that gives a FUCK about people feelings. Although he doesn't show it constantly, but he cares.
The teacher from your AP class told the two boys to go straight to the office, Harry was mouthing her off about that dreadful church skirt she had flowing down on the polish floors and how disgusted he was with the pigmentation of her skin. She's Indian, most Indians has darker complexion than others so Harry mixed her into the collection of black people. Which is weird. She just stood in place gobsmacked at his racial term about her skin. Your feet were hitting the floors like feathers, everyone in the school were whispering about the false/true rumors. You couldn't take it so you basically ran to ART. Where Zayn your soon to be future husband, was having those beats in...listening to Biggie smalls!
Pencil lightly sketch across the canvas in the back row. Surprisedly he was sketching you. If his girlfriend knew he sketched you then she'll be so livid. Zayn flicker his eyes up to see you marching in he immediately closed the sketch book. Doesn't wanting you to see his work. Rolling off the ear buds, seeing that those little wrinkles were prominent on that beautiful forehead. He wondered what was wrong with his dear friend?
Rushing in angrily? That's not like her! Zayn thought.
"What's wrong?" You toss the sketch pad on the table to hold the corners of his desk.
"Harry Styles! That racist piece of shit that's who! I hate him." You seethe, walking around to sit next to Zayn.
Several turns of heads were becoming evident from that lots outburst but you didn't give a fuck. Class hasn't begun anyway.
Who shift uncomfortably from the proximity. He's nervous. "What did he s-say?"
"The usual, Z!"
He frowns at your frustration wanting to caress those wrinkles of your face.
"I wanna move. I'm tired of this school, these people, so depressing." He frowns, his hand unexpectedly grasp yours under the table, circling the anger away.
"Babe? Don't let him have that power over you." He rub circles on that shaky hand.
"None of them. You're stronger than this. Love? Look at me."
His words were like silk, you blink those eyes constantly following back into his honey-sickle colored eyes. He was beautiful. You knew this was inappropriate of the stare he was giving you.
"I will always and forever have your back. You're my friend." He gulp at the friend part, clearly not meaning it he want to be more than friends. Deep down you did too.
"You're so sweet."
"I'm serious." He stop holding your hand to rub the back of his neck. Instantly bringing his fingers up to his lips, he looks lost in thought.
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"So? What were you sketching?" You changed the subject from the awkward silence. "Uhm... nothing, really." He mumbles, staring at the brown desk.
"Come on." You nudge him, the gentlemen chuckles nervously not wanting you to see the drawing.
Heavy boots were accompanying the class the two of you start laughing at his refusal. You didn't notice Harry entered in a angry manner, he's pissed the fuck off over the trader Zachariah for standing up for a ugly beast like you. He thought his kind would always stand up for one another. Guess not. Harry quickly push some hair back from his forehead; sighing deeply at the two people who's interacting. He didn't like this at all. Not at all.
