I glance over at Noah, wondering if he notices it too.
He looks back at me, arching an eyebrow and grinning. He definitely noticed.
“Morning, class,” Mr. Johnson says, taking a seat behind his desk. “Why don’t you all go ahead and bring up your assignments? Then, you will get paired up with a partner.”
Noah gets up from his desk, grabbing on to my paper and taking it with him. I watch him drop both of them onto Mr. Johnson’s desk before he turns back toward our seats. I look around, thinking about what Mohammad told me on the phone yesterday morning.
That Noah gets girls.
I scan across the class, looking to see if anyone is paying attention to him. I’ve never paid much attention to, well, anyone other than who I was talking to at the moment, and let me tell you, I’m surprised by what I’m now witnessing. In one aisle, a guy is sitting in his seat, blatantly picking his nose. Two girls behind him are chatting, their eyes moving between one another and another girl. The other girl looks uncomfortable, and I instantly feel sorry for her.
Because I know how that feels.
I slip my eyes to another row of desks, spotting a girl whose eyes actually are on Noah. He never looks up at her, and when he sits back down into his seat, his eyes come to me.
“What?” he asks, furrowing his brow.
“Just looking around,” I comment, trying to sound casual.
But now, the thought has me wondering, What else have I been missing?
Do I really just not pay attention?
I always thought I was an observant person. I love figuring people out, trying to understand different perspectives. I look back up, eyeing a guy. He looks familiar, and I think I have another class with him. He throws me a head nod, and I turn away from him, my eyes coming down to my desk.
I really don’t pay any attention.
I decide that, moving forward, I need to start looking around. I need to get out of my little bubble.
And I think my first task should be to take notice of what Mohammad mentioned. I am going to watch how people look at Noah and Harry. How they look at Mohammad. Because, now, he has me curious about what other people think.
Not that it matters.
Because I really don’t care as long as I’m happy.
But I am interested.
“You’ve been acting so strange this morning,” Noah says, shaking his head.
“You were acting strange this morning too,” I say back, narrowing my eyes at him.
He smirks at me but then looks back up to Mr. Johnson, who has started speaking.
“Let’s go ahead and get into pairs. I’ll be assigning them today,” he states, getting a few moans. He pushes his shoulders back, trying to make it obvious that he’s not going to give in to us.
“I’m going to hand out the answers now, and I want you to go over them with your partner today. Make sure you’re clear about each step because, tomorrow, you’ll share your problem with the class.”
Mr. Johnson pairs me with the girl seated behind me. When I turn around to her, she looks at me like she knows me. I glance at Noah, curious if he’s getting a weird vibe too, but he’s already turned to his partner. I bring my gaze back to her, wondering just how much of my and Noah’s conversations she overhears. I try not to think about it, focusing on the problem instead.
“All right, so should we start?” I ask because she still hasn’t opened her mouth.
“That was the most awkward class,” I say to Noah as we make our way into the hall when the bell rings.
“Why?” he asks, his perfect brows dipping down in question.
“The girl I was partnered up with was acting weird,” I say, trying to shake off the feeling she gave me. “She looked at me like she knew me. And I know that sounds crazy. Because, well, obviously, she kind of does since we have a class together. But then she barely spoke to me,” I continue. “We got through our problems pretty much in silence, so she was absolutely no help.”
“Maybe she’s just shy,” Noah comments as we walk to my locker.
“Shouldn’t you know her?” I ask, feeling frustrated.
“I didn’t notice who you were with,” he says, running his hand through his hair.
I scan the hallway, trying to find her. My eyes finally land on a girl with the same dark ponytail, her square jaw facing her locker.
“Her,” I whisper, nodding my head in her direction.
Noah glances over his shoulder. “That’s Rachel Jenkins.”
“Who is she?” I ask, putting away my textbook. I go to grab my Latin book, but then I remember that we’ve got a test, and I probably won’t need it.
“She’s nice, just quiet,” Noah says.
“Who is?” Harry says, walking up to us. He throws his arm around Noah’s shoulders, ruffling up his hair.
Noah grins, happy to see him.
And I am too.
But I’m also freaking out.
Because it’s just Harry, Noah, and me, and I haven’t told Noah about Harry and me. And I’m wondering if it’s better if he just finds out or if I need to pull him aside.
But now, I can’t because Harry is right here.
And basically, I’m screwed.
My eyes go wide, but I stay silent, pulling my lips into a straight line.
Harry winks at me adorably.
I smile back it him when Noah is glancing over his shoulder, looking in Rachel’s direction again.
“Rachel Jenkins,” Noah says, bringing his attention back to us.
Harry glances at Noah, his face pulling back in surprise. “She scares the shit out of me, mate,” Harry replies, his eyes going wide.
“Right?” I comment, agreeing with him.
Noah rolls his eyes at us. “She’s just quiet.”
“Yeah,” Harry says, nodding his head, obviously agreeing. “And you always have to worry about the quiet ones.”
Shit. I start thinking that he might be right. What if she has been listening in on my and Noah’s conversations?
“Seriously?” Noah cuts in, looking offended.
“What?” I ask, not sure why he’s so upset.
“Whatever,” Noah says, giving up. He gives Harry a pat on the back before walking off toward his next class, leaving Harry and me in the hallway.
I instantly let out the breath I was holding.
Harry grins at me, biting his lip. “Morning, beautiful,” he says, those blue eyes sparkling.
“Morning.” I grin back, already feeling light-headed from his presence.
“Were you thinking about me in bed last night?” he asks, taking a step closer.
I blush at his comment. “Harry,” I whisper, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one heard him.
“You’re flushed,” he replies, and his voice brings my gaze back to his eyes. His face is still bruised, but the swelling has almost gone away.
I feel my heart race in my chest as I see his easy smile.
“We shouldn’t talk about things like that at school,” I tell him, trying to be appropriate.
Because, yeah, we’ve flirted before. But it was innocent and fun.
Now, the air around us feels thick, and every word slipping out of his mouth is like caramel being poured over my skin.
“I know you were,” he says, stroking his fingers against my hand. He doesn’t grab on to my fingers, but he doesn’t move his hand away either.