HARRY STYLES INTERRACIAL IMAGINES.

petty

"are you sure you aren't mad??" harry said, eyeing me from the side very cautiously.

"i'm sure." i replied, my voice was monotone.

i sat there with my hands crossed and my face in a 'i'm being petty' look as i stared at the wall in front of me.

"sure?"

"positive."

"okay then." harry got up and walked towards the kitchen, sighing in relief.

i'm not mad.

i'm perfectly fine.

i'm not pissed off at all.

spectacular.

....okay i'm mad. why wouldn't i be mad?? i just need to wait for the perfect time to tell him i'm mad.

he really doesn't know me that well if he thinks i'm not mad.

he walked back into the living room, munching on some tortilla chips and sat on the couch.

twenty minutes went by. the fucking crunch from his chips was just pissing me off even more.

"i just think it's funny how-"

-

LMAOOO. if i said this wasn't an actual description of me i would be lying.

thank you guys so much for 8K!

xxx