Opposites Attract (Harry Styles/Hariana Fanfiction) | AU fiction

Harry: I'm so punk rock

Chapter 8: I'm so punk rock

Harry

Saturday.

You know what that means. Date-With-Ariana Day. Well, it was a date. It was originally meant to be a date, but knowing a girl just under a day and asking her out on a date the following weekend was pretty stupid. Even by my standards. So it had came out as a get together. But oh well.

This was Ariana we're talking about.

I had completely forgotten about it. Not about Ariana of course. As if I'd ever forget about her. Just the damn date. I was dreaming about some sort of dog with magic eraser powers so every time it touched me, I disappeared a little and- *ahem* anyhow, and the annoying Crazy Frog alarm ringtone went off and was pissing me off as I woke up on a Saturday morning.

10 o' clock on Saturday? My normal time getting up in the weekends is probably 12 o' clock, even later now considering my new school made sure my weekend was bombarded with homework. Ashton told me he heard the French president was thinking about banning homework.

Well, this is it then, my petite croissants, au revoir. It's been tremendous knowing you.

Of course it wasn't. I have a get together/ date with Ariana and it shall not be spent in France with me speaking terrible French to by passers. I'd probably ask for a  talking wooden frog by accident.

Talking about frogs, Crazy Frog isn't the best ring tone to wake up to.

"Shut up." I said but it probably came out as "Mumf mumf." since I was half asleep.

Yes, I talk to non living objects. Deal with it.

I buried my head deeper into my covers, which felt like heaven 10 o' clock on a Saturday morning. Suddenly, my eyes snapped open.

"Ariana!" I breathed. I stumbled out of bed, and after tripping over my dog, Brutus, and checking he was ok (which he wasn't, by the way. Note to self: dogs don't enjoy being tripped over by clumsily lanky teenage boys.), I ran into the shower, turning on the cold water tap by accident.

Typical Harold.

"HOLY SHIT! COLD! COLD! COLD!" I yelled, suddenly learning how to Irish dance in the shower.

I was a shower person, for sure. The idea of a bath made me uneasy.

Sitting in water until all your dirt, sweat, excess oil and other happenings washed off while you were still in the water?

Not my cup of tea, thanks.

After the water went to a comfortable warm temperature and I wasn't dancing anymore, the worry seeped through my skin.

What if she didn't turn up?

What if I forgot to put deodorant on and smelled bad?

What if she turned out to be a serial killer?

Ok, so the last one was silly. She couldn't be a serial killer. Could she? Could all of the quiet behaviour be a cover up? Could she be pretending to be reading but actually be looking up ways to murder unsuspecting victims?

Great, Harry, just great. You haven't decided what you're going to wear yet and you're worrying about her being a serial killer.

My mind works in the strangest ways.

After getting out, I put on my Trying-To-Be-Bad-Ass-But-Not-Quite-Getting-There ripped skinny jeans and plaid shirt.

I inspected myself in the mirror and wasn't too happy. Brutus barked at me. "You're right, Brutus. I look like a try hard." I sighed.