Chapter 3

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Harry's POV

I spend the rest of study hall contemplating a plan to keep Ariana alive. I've made a calendar in my notebook, starting with today. I planned out some cute things that I think a girl would like, and some things that I know she's never even thought about doing before.

I occasionally glance over at her as she writes something in her notebook. She's covering whatever it is with her arm, preventing me from seeing. I can't blame her, though. I just did the same. All I know is that I've heard her flip the page about two or three times.

"You writing a book?" I ask, trying to look over her arm. She closes the notebook, putting it back in her bag.

"No."

"What could you possibly be writing that much about then?"

"Well frankly, it's none of your business."

"Feisty today, aren't we?"

She throws an eraser at my head like she did this morning and smiles, but it quickly fades.

"I'm always feisty, I guess," she says and shrugs.

"I didn't know that. We should probably get to know each other."

"I met you two hours ago and you already know my biggest secret. That's enough."

"Snappy. Well, I'll tell you about me then. I'm Harry Styles and-"

"I'll finish for you. 'I'm Harry Styles and all the girls love me because I have nice hair. I don't like them, though. I'm too cool to even acknowledge them. In my spare time, I'm always with my fake-ass friends behind the school. I like spray-painting people's cars for no good reason and making other people's lives shit. I find it absolutely hilarious to watch someone's life fall apart.'"

"....what's your problem?"

"Nothing."

"Well, you're acting like a real bitch today."

"Why, thank you. How's it feel to be judged by someone who doesn't even know you?"

"I think I'm offended. I'm supposed to be offended, right?"

"I fucking hate you."

I narrow my eyebrows, tapping my fingers on the desk. You hate me? I'm trying to talk you out of fucking death and you hate me? Well, fuck you too. But that doesn't mean I'll give up on you. Hell, I'm just trying to make you laugh.

"Why do you hate me?" I ask.

"It's not a good time for me to answer that question."

"Why not? Nobody can hear us all the way back here."

"That's not the problem. We don't have enough time left for this conversation."

"Are there really that many reasons!? Anyway, we have plent-"

The bell rings, cutting me off. Ariana smiles and grabs her backpack, starting to walk out. I grab her arm before she does, turning her to face me. Her eyes widen as she looks down at my hand on her wrist.

"What?" she asks.

"Meet me behind the school after last period so we can hang out with my fake-ass friends and spray-paint people's cars for no good reason," I say with a grin.

"Not funny, and not happening." She attempts to pull away from my grip, but she only gets more tense when she realizes that I'm not letting go.

"If you don't, then I'll be giving your note to the guidance counselor and you can live the rest of senior year in a mental hospital."

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