Cracks in Anchors

il a vingt-sept tatouages

Agfyewfwe, remember what I said about being good in French? Yeah, well I guess I was wrong. I mean, shit, I thought I was pretty good, but I guess not since the test we received back slapped me in the face with a big fat 50. It just laid on the fake wood like it knew that it was making me claw my hands into my hair and let out small groans occasionally.

“You know, Sullivan, the test doesn’t count.” The blonde haired, big boobed girl next to me tapped a bitten pencil against her own test and shrugged her shoulders at me. I bit my tongue and nodded, thanking her quietly with my eyes and turning away so I could die as a crumbling, groaning mess in peace.

But then a chuckle resonated from behind me and just as I was about to turn around and curse them out for being an asshole, I noticed it was Mr. Styles and ended up just spurting out a little “whyyy?” He shook his head and his curly hair fumbled into his flickering eyes. “Like Katie said, it doesn’t count, don’t worry about it.” But I couldn’t not worry about it, it just wasn’t part of my design. Instead I worried over the stupidest things and lost sleep over things that didn’t even matter and most people would classify me as a worry-wart. “But-”

“No buts, I don’t want to see one of my students beat themselves up over something stupid.” Wow, how did he know exactly what I was going to do? Was he some kind of mind-reader?

A hot-British-French-speaking-mind-reader.

“I can’t help it Mr. Styles, I thought I was at least decent in French. Apparently not.” Kids began to throw their papers into their binders and stood up as the bell was about to ring. The girls smiled and waved to Mr. Styles and swooned when he waved back and wished them a good day. As I joined the mass of students filing out the door I heard my name being called. I turned around and saw Mr. Styles motioning for me to walk towards him, so I did and cradled my chipping binder to my chest. “Yes?” I let my dark eyes wander over his porcelain skin, edgy cheekbones and especially his emerald eyes. “Since you seemed so worried about the test that didn’t count,” he smiled like I was a child that did something stupid but cute at the same time, “I thought you’d maybe like to stay after school with me so I could help you.”

Oh god. Oh Jesus, did Mr. Styles just ask me to stay after school with him, alone and one-on-one? I didn’t think my sheer shirt could take it any longer-it was already getting soggy under the armpit area. I eventually realized what I probably looked like to the teacher standing in front of me - an awkward teenage girl who stuttered and muttered in the presence of someone even the tad-bit attractive. So I composed myself and cleared my drying throat. “Yeah, sure, thanks Mr. Styles.”

“Oh, and you can call me Harry.”

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Before I knew it and after three more boring as hell classes, it was 3:00 and I was making my way towards Mr. Sty-Harry’s classroom. I had all my French notes in my hands and my book bag hung against my back. My shoes pounded against the tile and I let my eyes wander over the bare and tattered cement walls. In a few squares you could see the water damage from past bad weather and torn corners of carelessly ripped off posters. The windows had rain-streaks painting them and the sills were chipping of the blue color they had been painted.

I pushed open the door that was halfway open and peaked my head in, looking around the dark room for any sign of life. Which there didn’t seem to be, and as I turned around to head back and grumble to myself about how Mr. Styles made me stay after school for nothing, I collided with a body and was shocked to feel a pair of rough hands grab my exposed forearms. “Oh, sorry Sullivan, I was just getting something from that snack machine,” a chuckle followed and I was still staring down at the floor after realizing Mr. Styles just had his long fingers pressed against my blotchy and raised skin. But he didn’t say anything and just scooted by me and waved for me to follow.

Which I did, and sat myself in my usual desk. Mr. Styles sat in the rolling desk that came with the room and rolled it and himself towards the front where the rows of desk began.

“No, come sit right here.” He patted the desk right in front of him and I had to swallow the lump of nerves that crawled into my throat. But I did as I was told and began getting a few sheets of notes out as Mr. Styles looked over his own. He started with a cough and habitual tug at his t-shirt collar; like he was always uncomfortable with the material covering his chest. Maybe he was used to being shirtless, like at home and with friends and whatnot. I wondered what his chest would look like, would it be brooding and defined or tan and skinny? Would it rise as he breathed in air and fall back down as he let it slip past his perfectly carved lips? Would his eyes flutter close as someone placed a delicate kiss to his smooth neck and would his veins push towards the skin when he got angry or laughed too much or swallowed something? Would he have a pretty and rough voice on a recording and would pictures turn out wonderful when he was mid-smile?

God, why was I even thinking these things? I should have been listening to Mr. Styles as he rambled off French sentences.

“Comprenez-vous?” Do you understand, do you really understand Sullivan? Do you understand why you’re thinking these things and do you understand why you need to speak French anyway.

“Oui, but why do I need to know how to speak French anyway?”

That was the true question at hand.

Harry looked into the space behind my head before saying, “no reason, really, it’s the romance language, as I’m sure you know.”

And something in his voice and eyes made me blush in embarrassment and for some reason I felt that Harry would ask me to stay after more often; and I didn’t know if I was pleased or tepid about it.
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Oh boy, she can call him Harry and he might possibly want her to stay after more than once 0.o

no jk nothing like that will happen for a bit, I don't want to rush into it right away, you know?

GAD&IDW, HAVE YOU GUYS HEARD THE NEW SONGS FROM TAKE ME HOME THAT ONE DIRECTION LEAKED? LIKE JESUS H CHRIST.