Part 6
-inspired off of GiGi Gorgeous <3
As he saw me walking towards him crossed his legs, leaned back on the wall, and his smirk grew wider. Damn, if I could just punch that stupid smirk off of his stupid face.
"Hello there, Y/N. For what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked.
"Cut the crap. Why were you staring at me?" I ask. The intensity of the situation gave me more confidence.
"Staring? Define 'staring'," he said, calmly.
"When you continue to look at someone for over three seconds."
He laughed. "Well, what's wrong with me staring at you? I should be able to if I wanted."
"Yeah, but it's highly uncomfortable! Plus it's r-"
"Stop talking to them," he cut me off.
"What?" I ask, confused.
"Stop talking to them," he repeats, as if it was no big deal.
"Who exactly is 'them'?" I question.
"Them." He looked over at Jason, Melinda, and Ted, who were all staring at me.
I shot them a 'now's not the time' look and they quickly looked away and continued talking.
"Well, what's wrong with me talking to them? I should be able to if I wanted," I retort.
He rolled his eyes. "Ha ha. Cute."
"Really? Because I thought it kinda sounded bi-"
He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to him. "Is he your boyfriend?"
"Who?"
"Him." I turned to see who he was talking about and saw Jason staring angrily at Harry and I.
"I just met him today," I stated.
"And you just met me today, too," he pointed out.
"Okay, but we aren-"
"You're not answering my question."
"You keep cutting me off."
"Okay, just answer the damn question!"
"I will if you'd just let me fucking talk!"
"Okay," he said, rolling his eyes and leaning back onto the wall again, "talk."
I'm so sick of him. "It's none of your fucking business."
"You said that you'd ans-"
"So?"
He rolled his eyes.
"It's fun to be cut off isn't it?" I ask, smiling sweetly. "And why do you even care about my personal life?"
"I don't." He shrugged. "Why would I care about what a stuck up bitch does anyway?"
"I fucking hate you so much!" I shouted, then walked away.
Thank god the cafeteria's so loud that no one managed to hear our conversation.
Before I could get back to my table, I felt something pull me back.
Harry fucking Styles.
He ran his fingers through his curly brown hair. "You don't really mean that, right?"
"Mean what?" I ask.
"Do you really hate me?" He looked up at me, as if pleading that I should say 'no'.
I sighed. "No. I just really dislike you."
He bit his lip harshly then frowned. "Okay."
He let go of his grip and I walked back to my table.