Harry Styles Imagines

(4) - why?

why? part 1

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"Nice shirt you're wearing there.", Astrid and her friends laughed at me.

I was heading towards the exit, when a shoulder brushed against mine.

"God, Harry. Try not to touch her. She's got germs all over her body.", two girls grabbed Harry's strong arms.

Harry was the best basketball player in the school.

Clichè, isn't it.
Clichè but true.

...and he was pretty damn good at it.

"Alright, girls. I'll be more careful next time. I don't want to get sick anytime soon.", he smirked at them, while they were literally melting in front of him.

I was used to it. I guess.
They treated me like that.
Probably because I was the classic quiet girl, nobody talked to.

I had my own reasons.

I mean, I don't think that I've done anything wrong to make them hate me.

I do have blue eyes that may look not interesting, but at least I have a pair of eyes. I've tried so hard to find the positive even in the negative. People make it so hard at times.

My black hair is okay, I guess. It's curly, which slightly irritates me, but it's okay.

But, I don't want to talk about my body.
It makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

"Goodbye ladies.", he smirked at the girls and then looked at me up and down and went away.

He stopped and turned around.

"Goodbye, germ.", he smirked.

Honestly is there a thing he can do that is not smirking at girls?

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"Olivia, not that plate. The other one.
Why can't you be useful? Just for once.", my mum snorted.

"I-I'll go take a shower.", I stuttered.

Once I was in my bedroom I shared with my annoying sister, I tried to be as innocent as possible and took my scissors and hid them under my clothes.

"A che ti servono le forbici?"

"Per tagliare l'etichetta dalle calze nuove.", I rolled my eyes.

"Guests are coming over. Just so you know."

"Well, I'll go."

"Don't come back.", she laughed loudly.

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After I put a grey jumper on my dark blue shirt and made a big scar on my right thigh, I put finally my black jeans and brushed my teeth.

"Get out scum. The guest arrived."
I opened the door and went after her.

"You look great by the way.", she looked at me, trying not to laugh.

I decided to say nothing.
Like I always do.

"Here are my daughters.", he came gently near me and whispered in my ear:"Cerca di fare una bella figura."

"Certo, padre.", I muttered.

"What language are you guys speaking?", a woman asked us with a kind smile.

"It's Italian.", he fakely smiled at the family. He let go of my arm and started going towards my sister.