Imagine :
You were working at your hairdressing salon. It had been an extremely tiring day, and you were ready to go home when suddenly the doorbell chimes, and in walks the next customer.
Oh no, God, please no. I can't deal with this. No more middle-aged women who cant decide whether they want to look 'young and pretty' or 'cool and hip'. Please no.
Turns out, it isn't a middle aged woman, but a man. A very handsome man, might I add.
"Hello! Are you leaving already?" the man says, his green eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I thought closing hours were at nine,"
Momentarily distracted by his beauty, you had no idea what the hell he had just said.
Should I ask him to repeat his sentence? Because I really don't think he said 'I thought you were mine'.
"I'm sorry, what?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and pretending that you were having a headache instead of staring at his sharp jawline which could probably be sharp enough to slice the pizza you wanted to eat so badly right now.
"I said," he said, a smile etching on his lips, "that I thought closing hours were at nine."
Huh, so he didn't say 'I thought you were mine'. Rude. Girls have heart too, you know?
"Closing hours are at nine, I was just, um, cleaning up..." you lie.
"Cool. So can I have a haircut now?" he asks, indicating his rather long hair. Oh my God, his hair is shinier than my nonexistent unicorn, and it looks so soft.
"Can I touch it?" you spit out. Shit, did I just say that?
"Touch what?" he asks, staring at you in amusement. "Never mind, can I get a haircut? I'm Harry, by the way, Harry Styles."
"Sounds fitting. Styles." You mutter, jealous of his hair.
"Um, thanks. Can I get my haircut now?" he asks for the third time.
"Oh, sure." You reply. "Do you want anything specific, or...?"
"Nothing specific, just want to get rid off a few inches."
After Harry is seated, and you've grabbed your scissors, you turn back to Harry to cut his hair off when suddenly he speaks up.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks.
I can be honest, and say no, or sound cool and say yes.
"Uh, yeah" you say.
"Can I see his picture?"
What hell is wrong with this guy? Can he not? I can't show you a picture, Harry mothereffin Styles. On the other hand, I could be smooth af and show him a picture of himself so he can take a hint, or I could be rough af and show him a picture of the dude I stalk on Instagram, Louis Tomlinson.
"This is him," you say, showing Harry, Louis' picture.
"Okay, don't freak out, but this guy looks exactly like my boyfriend."
"No way!" you exclaim in mock surprise. "Can I start your haircut now?" You ask desperately, not wanting him to ask for a picture you and Louis as a couple.
"Sure,"
You spray Harry's hair with water, and start snipping his hair off. However, you get distracted by the sheer silkiness of it and accidentally cut all of it off. Shit.
"Wow, my head feels so much lighter than before. You're so good at this," Harry exclaims.
"Um, thanks." (THIS IS WORSE THEN KILLING PEOPLE BUT I'M LAUGHING)
"Hey, you haven't cut off all of my hair have you?" Harry asks, suspicion evident in his voice.
"Are you joking, or um...?"
"Just kidding," Harry says, and you laugh nervously.
"Do you like frogs, by the way? Once, I kissed a frog to see if it turned into a prince." Harry asks.
"Er, no. I can't say I do."
Someone help me. I'm in a room, alone, with a mad, possibly insane British guy, whose beauty I cannot even begin to handle.
Oh, and I've cut all his hair off.
"I think you're done with my haircut, so I'm just going to see how it is." Harry says, and gets up to examine himself in the mirror before you can stop him.
"Did you just...?" Harry gasps, touching his head. "Did you actually cut ALL MY HAIR OFF?!"
"I'm sorry, I just thought you wouldn't want people calling you Hairy Styles..." you say weakly.
"Very funny," Harry says, and stabs you with the same pair of scissors you used to cut his hair.
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Ik this imagine was BLEh and I'm sorry for that but if you by some miracle, happen to like this, please vote and comment. Thanks, I LOVE YOU GUYSSS 💖💖💖
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