Fratboy Harry and Other Stories

Fratboy Harry - Part 7

I'm sorry.

I swear, she's not my girlfriend.

If you'd answer my calls I could try to explain.

Will you please talk to me?

These texts and more filled your phone all evening, but you left them unacknowledged. He'd tried calling you several times as well, but you never answered. Finally as you laid in bed, your mind wandering though you were trying your best to read your English chapter, Harry sent one more text.

Fine. I know you're mad. Maybe you just need some time to cool off. I'll leave you alone. Call me when you wanna talk.

The next morning you managed to make it to class despite a restless night. You'd probably gotten a total of three hours sleep, and you prayed to God you wouldn't be quizzed on that English chapter because you had no idea what you'd read.

You didn't know why you'd let this boy get to you, but somehow he had. Hell, you didn't even like him at first. Now not only was he invading your mind, but you'd allowed him yourself you get angry and hurt over something that had nothing to do with you. Something that shouldn't have surprised you and you should have seen coming. Dammit.

Coming out of the English building after stopping to talk to your professor, you were zipping up your backpack so you didn't see him at first. Lifting your head, you spotted him on the sidewalk, a small group of people gathered around him. Pulling your backpack over your shoulder, you walked briskly, trying to get past him before he saw you.

"[Y/N]!" he called.

Shit.

You walked faster, your eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of you. Hearing puffs of breath as he jogged to catch up you, you rolled your eyes. He called your name again, pleading you to wait. You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him.

"Hey," he said. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I did," you narrowed your eyes.

His shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"I don't feel like talking," you remarked.

"Will you at least hear me out?"

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Fine. I'm listening. But you have about two minutes because I have to get to my next class."

Harry stepped closer to you, lifting his hands like he was about to touch you but changed his mind.

"She's not my girlfriend, okay?"

"You've said that."

"She has a thing for me," he added as though that just cleared everything up.

"Apparently," you raised your brows.

His eyes shifted away from you as he tried to think of the next thing to say. Biting his lip, he looked back at you.

"We slept together once," he muttered. "It meant more to her than it did to me."

You glared at him in disgust. Was this guy for real? If it wasn't for the curiosity taking over, making you want to hear the whole story, you would have stomped off.

"I know that's an awful thing to say," he admitted. "And I don't mean it like it sounds. I wasn't a jerk to her afterwards, I know that's what you're thinking."

"Don't tell me what I'm thinking," you scoffed. "You have no fucking clue what I'm thinking."

"Fine, fine!" he held up his hands. "I'm just trying to explain."