PS, I Hate You

Chapter 4

o h m y g o d

I have Harry freaking Styles number, fuck.

Do I text him or what? I'm not good at this sort of stuff well, especially not when it entales a handsome famous lad.

I reach in to the pocket of my black high waisted skinny jeans and grab my phone, my fingers slide across the matte case quickly, I push the lock button and a text pops up:

Harry: lovely meeting you today, we'll have to go out sometime :) xxx

I smile as I swipe across my lockscreen and input my password. I reply quickly:

Me: yeah, we'll have to meet up while you're home?

I check through my Facebook and snapchat - nothing as per usual! I have to giggle as I see a picture of Harry on my newsfeed, ironic much?

So let's get this straight, the lad I've got posters of in my room asked me out? I'm as dazzled as the next person, I carry on having a fangirl attack (again) as another text comes through:

Harry: I'll pick you up tomorrow around 7? ;) xxx