The bell rang for fourth period just as Keira slipped through the doorway, and into Mr. Jester’s class. She had been running, and as she took her assigned seat along the front row she couldn’t help but, notice the sudden shift in everyone’s demeanor as she did. Even Mr. Jester had seemed anxious. Although, unlike the students, he didn’t hesitate long enough for that reason to become obvious. Was it her? She pondered trying to figure it out. Reaching for her lesson book, and notepad she found her answer in the form of the boy from earlier. Unimaginably he was sitting next to her, in the desk which is usually empty, with handsome features, and a hollow expression. She swallowed hard but, couldn’t look away. His eyes drew her in, and she quickly found herself helpless to them. It was him, it was Grayson. Then for some reason, he smiled, his teeth unnaturally white, and perfect. In that moment her breath caught, and together they sat holding each other’s gaze.
“Ahem,” Mr. Jester cleared his throat, his arms folding across his chest as he did. “Miss Liverston, is something the matter?”
Keira's cheeks flushed crimson red, embarrassed to be called out in front of everyone, and quickly turned in her seat. The idea of everyone having seen her staring up at him like that, and probably now wondering what the hell she was thinking, made her head spin. “No sir, I apologize.” She quickly said. Opening her book, she sat up, and began jotting down the notes from the board. She could hear the other students starting to laugh, which only made her cheeks burn with a ferocious heat. Keira had never been so embarrassed like this before. Possibly because she so often chose to stay away from all the drama, and weekly gossip but, mostly because there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. What was it about his eyes that drew her in so? She asked herself but, before she could question it any further Mr. Jester spoke up, breaking her inner ramblings.
“Well alright then. Now, can anyone tell me what a metaphor is?” He asked, his words boring into the room with a desperate need to change the subject. The room sat quiet, and unappeasing as no one dared to raise their hand. By now Keira’s cheeks had calmed, and she had regained her composure but, with not wishing to draw any more attention to herself she, too remained silent. The infinite quiet was almost unbearable as it seemed to go on for what felt like an eternity. That was until someone broke it.
“A metaphor is a figure of speech, in which a word or phrase is used to make a comparison between an object, a person or a place, to which is not literally applicable.” The boy with the handsome features, Grayson, spoke up. His voice was rough, literate, as if he were reading from a book. Keira couldn’t help but, laugh at the variance between the two.
Mr. Jester smiled apprehensively with approval, and then carried on with his own definition and examples. For the rest of the class Keira sat listening to the sounds of him, of Grayson. The way he breathed in and out; long exaggerated breaths as if it were almost unreal that someone’s lungs could hold so much air at one time. She listened to how still he sat, and compared it to the other students his age who, next to him, were apparently more gangly, and unsteady within themselves. She watched Besson Clay, an off seasoned jock, rustle along in his seat at least a half dozen times. It wasn’t normal for Grayson to be that still, and composed. She thought to herself. But, more than anything, she could feel the uneasy feeling of being watched throughout the rest of the class, and even though she couldn't see who, she could guess. The thought of icy azure colored eyes suddenly awoke something deep within her she hadn’t known existed. Why would he be watching her? She wondered briefly.
When the bell rang once more to sound for the end of the period, she waited patiently before gathering her things, and as he stood and made his way towards the hallway, she watched after him once more before he disappeared. Her inner mind tumbling over her own words, trying to make sense of why she seemed to care so much to watch in the first place. Eventually her better judgment broke out, and she was forced to run in order to not be late. Only thankfully her class hadn’t been all that far, and as she sat preparing her printed syllabus for Mrs. Baker’s Science class, the second her eye broke from her desk he strode through the doorway. Her attention fully fixed on the artfully place lilt to his walk, and quickly found she liked it.