Texting Harry Styles

The first text..

My phone buzzes waking me from my deep slumber, groaning I sit up and check it. Who the fuck is texting me at three am?, I think, glancing at the time. I check my messages and roll my eyes, unknown number, probably one of my friends pranking me.
I open the message anyway, to humour them.

Unknown number:

Hey ;)

Okay, it doesn't sound very prank-like so who the hell is it? I sit up in bed and type back.

Lana:

Who is this?

Five minutes later and no reply. Okay, maybe they got distracted.

20 minutes later. Okay, so maybe they're ignoring me.

40 minutes later. Okay, I'm going back to sleep.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Unfortunately sleep doesn't come and I lie in bed all night thinking about this mysterious texter. If that is even a word.

I must have drifted off at some point because when my alarm clock goes off at six am in the morning I am not happy. I groan and rub my eyes, grabbing my phone to turn off my alarm, which happens to be John Cena's theme song. Yes, I did just say theme song.
I notice I have another text, surprisingly from 'unknown number'. I open it up, expecting to see a name.

Unknown number:

If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.

What's that supposed to mean? He's probably trying be all mysterious and shit. If it's even a he.

Lana:

Try me.

I leave my phone on my bed while I get ready, underneath all of my blankets. I take a quick shower before my dad can steal the bathroom to do his hair. He's so obsessed with it. He probably spends more money on his damn hair products than his own two kids. Combined.

I dry my hair in my room and quickly get dressed, not wanting to be late like I was the previous three days. I pull on some black skinny jeans, my signature colour, and a red and black flannel shirt. I comb my long hair so that it's only just acceptable to be seen by the public eye and leave it in it's usual long, boring  waves. Ugh, I think staring at my reflection in my full length mirror.

I hate my hair. So NOT punk rock.

I'm punk rock, obviously. Like next level punk rock. I hate one direction, that's how punk rock I am.

Jk ;)

I fucking love them.

"Lama! It's time to go!" My brother Kevin shouts from downstairs, using his annoying nickname he made up for me. I pick up my plain black back pack, grab my phone and shout back.

"I'm coming Jonas!"

********

Edit: 3/5/16: okay I honestly hate this book so much lmao but I'm not taking it down because some people seem to enjoy it. I'm not into het!harry at all anymore (I'm larry af) but I wrote this when I was. Okay that's all now bye lol