3. I'm Not An Asshole

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"So," Harry says after a few minutes of silence, "is there anything you'd like to do before we get to my place ?" he asks, tapping on the steering wheel with his long fingers, as the car is stopped at a red light.

"Nope, nothing," I reply. "You know, it's not like I'd want to take my clothes and other personal belongings at your house, because I definitely won't need them," I continue after a short pause, my voice full of sarcasm as I stare out of the window.

"Okay, listen. I know you don't want to be here but can you, please, make an effort," he sighs, as the light turns green and the car starts to speed up again. "And I meant besides that, because of course we're gonna swing by your place. I know you need all your stuff. I'm not an stupid or an asshole," he finishes, and I see him from the corner of my eyes flicking his eyes between my face and in front of him several times before focusing fully on the road.

"Not so sure about that," I mumble, still not looking at him. To my surprise, he doesn't say anything and when I glance towards him, he has a smile on his face that he's trying to hide, and he shakes his head because of my witty remark.

The fuck are you grinning about, Styles ?

"What's so funny ?" I ask, raising my brows as I keep my gaze on his face.

He shakes his head still smiling,"Nothing."

"No, tell me," I push, genuinely curious about what's making him grin like a fool.

"You. That's what's making me laugh," he chuckles after a few seconds, glancing in my direction and earning a blush from me as I mutter a 'what did I say ?' To which he replies by, "you're just cute when you're mad. It's adorable."

The heat in my cheeks only grows even more, probably making me look like a tomato. I turn my face towards the window for a second to regain my composure and pretend his words didn't affect me. Because they shouldn't and I'm pretty sure that the fact that they did is a problem. A problem I shouldn't be facing right now. A problem I don't even want to face.

"I'm not cute," I send him a death glare as I swat his arm. He lets go of the steering wheel with his right hand to old his left arm and groans in pain. I only stare at him with my eyebrows raised to make him understand that I think he's full of shit.

He drops the act, "Wrong. You're very cute. But never mind," he argues, a the smile still on his face.


I don't have time for his games, I need to focus on the fact that I'm supposed to be mad at him. But he just makes it so hard. Why couldn't he be the jerk he was just minutes ago, back at the gouvernement. It would make it a lot easier. If he keeps being nice to me, I'll probably catch feelings and then when I'll give birth to our kid, he'll kick me out of his house and it'll break my heart or something like that.

But if he's an asshole, I won't catch feelings and if he throws me out of his house after the baby's birth it'll do me nothing. Well, not nothing, because I'll be pissed if he doesn't want me to be in touch with my kid but I know it's something I'll fight for and eventually fix in the end. Unlike my heart. Cause, once broken, always broken.

So I needed a plan, a plan that would ensure me to never catch feelings for him. Ever. A plan sounded like a good idea. I just needed to elaborate one. I could just start to be mean to him all the time, for absolutely no reason. He would obviously loose his shit immediately, right ?

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