Pink, Purple and Blue (Harry Styles fanfic)

Chapter 17

Hello unexistant readers :)

I know this chapter is kind of a filler, but I wanted to insert some bouding time with the boys, not just action or drama or major things.

Anyway, feel free to tell me what you think,

and enjoy :)

Chap 16

#Karry4eva and #IShipKarry were trending on Twitter. But not as much as #KarryisFake, #LarrynotKarry, #KathleenIsABeard and so on.

Oh well.

Did I care?

A little.

But not really.

“Don’t look at that Kath,” Liam told me. I looked up at him. “Don’t look at what they say.”

“It’s okay. I don’t really care.” Don’t get me wrong, it affected me. I just didn’t want to let that take control over me. I was stronger than that. “If they think they –” my phone beeped. Not a good beep. That ringtone I had set on an app I had created. It could only mean one thing. “Shit!” I cursed. “Are we back soon, Harry?” I asked, talking fast.

I was suddenly hyped and they all gave me weird looks.

“In a few, why?” Harry slowly answered, like he was trying to calm me down. I ignored his question.

“If that bitch whoever she is thinks she’s better than me...” I talked to myself.

I assumed it was a girl, but it could’ve been a boy, too. But boys usually weren’t bitchy enough to do that for no fucking reason.

Grosse pute.

As soon as the car got parked (or maybe it was before, I can’t tell), I stormed out and ran to the door.

Only to have to wait for Harry because I didn’t have a key. I had to ask him for a key.

“Hurry up please.”

Once he opened the door, I ran straight to Harry’s (okay I hadn’t brought myself to think Harry and mine yet) room.

I cursed to myself for not plugging my work computer before. Laptop?

No.

I plugged it as fast as I could.

I knew the guys were watching me but I didn’t really care.

I opened my Twitter to find what was wrong.

“Câlis de bâtard de merde!” (just some swearing again...) I cursed. I was getting mad. I was putting on my Cassiopée side.

I first made sure she hadn’t made it through my defenses. She hadn’t. I smirked. “Amateure,” (amateur, but for a girl) I whispered.

I first needed to find who the hell she was. The last Twitter account connected with her computer was @Larrylove. It didn’t give so much information on her thought. Facebook?

Jessica Blais. Ottawa. It’s complicated. Working at Blais Electronics. Sixteen. Student at...

Wait a sec.

A Blais working at Blais Electronics?

I took my phone and held four.

“Who’s calling?” a lazy voice asked.

“Cass. I want to talk to Blaireau. Now.” I ordered.

I heard a mumble and a sort of click.

“Hello?”