P.S. I Hate You (Harry Styles)

Chapter 17.

"Plus, I miss my roommate. I really liked him."

"Well, he's right in here." Viola pointed at her heart.

"Listen, I know I should have told you who I was, but I was afraid. I'm Sorry.

Well, you know maybe if I had know you were a girl, we wouldn't have talked like we did, and got to know each other the same way. And that would've been a shame."

"Just so you know, everything you told me when I was a guy, just made me like you so much more as a girl."

"Ok, but just from here on in, everything would just be alot easier if you stayed a girl."

.

.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "This is sooo cheesy."

"You think a girl dressing up as a guy just to get on the boys' soccer team.. Is cheesy? Oh come on Blue!"

"Yeah, well this is cheesy yeh know? It's all predictable in the end. The guy gets the girl, no matter what."

"Don't you think that'll happen to you too? I mean, everyone goes through that 'cheese' once in awhile." She shrugged.

"No.. Well Dylan doesn't count, but.. Yeah. I don't think I want to go through the cheese." I mumbled, as we both turned back to her laptop.

Hannah was already teary eyed, aww'ing once in awhile and clapping. Oh she is such a girl.

Wait.. I'm a girl. Eh, whatever. I just smirked, chuckling once it ended.

"WOW that movie gets me every single time! Didn't you just love it?!"

"Yeah, I loved the part where "he" was checking Duke out. It was funny." I yawned, ruffling my hair.

"That's all?"

"Yes.. Is there anything you want me to say?" I shrugged, checking my phone.

"No.. You've got to see more chick flicks."

"Eh. I'm more into the movies about independent girls. Uhh kind of like Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games."

She laughed. "She fell in love with Peeta idiot!''

"Fuck, no she didn't! She had to pretend for District 12."

"Well, whatever. They still kissed." She shrugged with no idea about the series at all.

"Kissed shmissed." I spoke nonchalantly, but Harry just DID kiss me.

"You look weird." Hannah tells me, smirking.

"Is it my face, or--"

"No! You don't look heartbroken, one bit. Did you not like Dylan?.."

"Of course I liked Dylan. He's a jerk, so I don't feel heartbroken."

"Orrr," Her voice trailed, as she propped her elbows on her mattress, wiggling her eyebrows. "Is there another dude with a hot British accent and the curly h--"

"Ew no." I sounded even more defensive, scoffing. "You're a romantic, you know that?"

"I know! And I'm a love doctor so I could see it."

"See what?"

.

.

.

.

.

.

My loud alarm clock made me groan loudly, as I rolled over in bed and slammed my hand over it.