Part 33
"Harry. I only have tonight to finish asking you the questions and then write my paper," I groaned.
"So? I'm already done with mine."
"Yeah, but I'm not done with mine."
"Fine."
"Why don't we ever do this at your house?"
"Is this going on the essay?"
"No."
"Then I'm not answering that." He smirked.
That little bitch.
"Fine. Why are you such a pessimist?" I asked, tapping my pen on my notebook.
"Because optimism is stupid."
"And why do you think that?"
"Because, when you expect and look for the best in everything, things could only grow worse. When you already know that shit's gonna happen, things can only get better."
I pouted. "That's terrible logic."
"Maybe, but it's how I feel."
"You don't feel," I mumbled to myself.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing."
Harry smirked. "Okay. Now I'm gonna be an optimist and imagine that you just called me incredibly hot."
"That's not being optimist. That's being a dreamer," I argue.
"Yeah, because every night I dream about you calling me hot."
"Do you?"
"Obviously not. I dream about other things."
"Like what?"
"I don't think Mr. Gareth would enjoy reading about that. Or, maybe he would. Who knows? Continue asking."
I blushed. "What do you think people think of you?"
"Are you using this assignment as a way to get some information out of me?"
I rolled my eyes. "Obviously not."
"Um, people usually don't like me. Or they think I'm hot."
"Wow, very modest."
Harry shrugged. "It's true. You can't say that you didn't think either of those when you first met me."
"I've never found you hot and now that I know you, I don't like you."
Harry scowled. "You don't know me."
"I try to."
Harry laughed bitterly at me. "Continue. I want to go home."
I smiled at him. He wouldn't say it, but that means that he doesn't want me to get in trouble for not doing the assignment fully.
"Stop making that stupid face."
I pouted. "My face isn't stupid."
Harry gently poked at my cheek. "Yes it is. It suits your personality, though."
"Shut up."
"Okay."