Find You There (Fanfic Version)

Eight

I try my best not to laugh at the most priceless reaction.

"Would you calm down? It's not you who's going to face the consequences in the end," I tell him. It's actually me who is going to get in trouble and I just want to enjoy the priceless moment of Harry freaking out.

"Wow, easy for you to say. I've just bloody told your father I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims in frustration and honestly, it's way hilarious to ignore.

"He wouldn't even believe you," I say. "He knows I'm lying so don't you worry."

This is why I'm laughing. Dad totally knows that I'm lying and he will never believe that I'm at my boyfriend's right now. He knows my arrangement with Robbie to pick me up at nine. Considering I just got Harry to do something for me, dad is probably proud of the manipulation.

"I don't think you get it, I've just told my father's archenemy in the business that I'm the boyfriend of his daughter," he labels out very slowly as though I'm a kindergartner.

I roll my eyes and huff upwards, blowing my bangs slightly. "I get it perfectly. But uh, then again, my father knows I'm lying. I highly doubt that he believes you're the Harry Styles."

I cross my arms and walk towards him, "The daredevil shouldn't really be afraid of that. Didn't you jump out a jet on a wing suit once?"

Harry stays silent for a moment, again, in his confused face. His eyebrows meeting and his mouth forming a frown.

"You're confusing me," he says, taking a deep breath.

"I do that a lot, but thanks for noticing," I reply.

"No, y-you're really confusing me." And then he mumbles a straight phrase in Italian which, again, I don't understand.

I stay quiet, waiting for him to get the idea that I clearly do not understand. . .

He groans in frustration, "You don't even like me and now, you're messing with me."

What has like got to do with it? That doesn't even take effect on the factors of why I am helping him.

"Yeah, maybe I don't," I say. "And don't take it personally. I mess with everyone I can. I'm your typical spoiled brat."

"That's not how I see it," he says and it doesn't sound like a compliment or anything positive.

No offense, but that sounds like the worst lie one can say to me.

"I couldn't care less how you see it," I snap up, now wanting the conversation to end.

He seems to be taken by surprise by my tone and of course, that's normal. When I use my not-so-good tone, people tend to shut up and I like it that way.

My phone rings and judging from the different ringtone I've set, it's Robbie.

"Have a nice night," I say and walk away, taking my things from the bleachers before heading to the school parking lot.

The next day, my mood takes it toll on me again. I eat near the counter after doing all of my morning habits again, I'm going a little bit slower than usual.

"You're looking unusually unenthusiastic today," Mrs. Cartwright says and lifts my chin up, her warm blue eyes looking at me in the gentlest way.

Honestly, I am just not in the mood and she knows that. I know she just wants something to talk to me about. I used to be very open for conversations but as time went by, not so much.

Although I can't tell whether it was sarcastic or just a comment.

"Did dad try to cancel out the nine PM arrangement?" I ask because before dad calls me, the family friends should be first.