Punk Harry Imagine

Part 57

I glared at Harry as he sipped his milkshake through a straw. He stared back at me before detaching his lips from the straw. "Want some?"

"No."

"You sure?"

I eyed the milkshake before looking up at Harry who made gestures towards it, looking as though he was advertising it. I took the milkshake from him before sipping some of it. It was good.

Harry smirked as he leaned back into his chair. "We're technically kissing right now."

"Cute." I sent him a fake smile before pushing the drink back to him. He wasted no time to start drinking it again. "I have herpes."

Harry suddenly stated coughing violently as he clutched his heart. "Cute."

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.

"I do too."

"Why do you have to be so annoying?"

Harry shrugged. "It's a way of life."

"You know, you weren't like this the first time we met. What happened?"

Harry cocked his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Dude, you used to be all mysterious and scary and now you're here sharing a milkshake with me."

"There could have been poison in the milkshake."

"Then you wouldn't have drunken it, smart one."

"You don't know that."

"You right. You right."

Harry rolled his eyes and played with the straw. "I was only trying to humour you. Why, did you prefer how I was back then?"

I thought for a while. Did I? He didn't annoy me as much in the past but he was an even bigger jerk back then. Could I prefer rudeness over annoying-ness?

"I don't know," I muttered.

"You don't?" Harry asked, cocking his brow. "You were more interested in me back then."

"I wouldn't confuse curiosity with interest."

"But curiosity does spark interest, does it not?" Harry pressed, challenging me with his tone and dark expression.

"Perhaps on some occasions," I replied plainly.

He was starting to frighten me a little. Maybe I do like this Harry better. I would rather be annoyed by a person rather than scared of them.

Harry watched me intently, sensing the uneasiness that I was trying to conceal. "I mean, that's why you came here with me. Right?"

I decided to stop cowering and looked at him confidently. "Yes, it is."

Harry chuckled. "You think that you lost interest in me because you think that you know me; am I right?"

"Have I given an impression that would have led to those accusations?"

"You know, when you're scared or intimidated, you talk more formally."

God, I hate how observant he was. I always joke about it but I feel as though he does memorize my breathing pattern.

"You do that also."

"Do I?"

He does not. He always talks like a character in one of Shakespeare's plays or a character in a gothic novel.

I shrugged.

The waitress came and brought out our food. I poked at my lasagna with my fork. The way that Harry was staring at me and the food suggested that he might have poisoned it.

"Why do you jump from annoying to psychotic in less than a second?" I questioned, slicing the lasagna with my fork.

"I don't know, does it scare you?"

Why must he always answer my questions with more questions?

"And if it does?"

"I would stop, because the last thing I would ever want to do is frighten you."

Why do I always follow him when a part of me believes him to be a serial killer? Because I'm fucking stupid, that's why.

I heard Harry laugh and looked up. "Did I do something amusing?"

He smiled cockily. "I was only trying to prove a point, Y/N."

"Excuse me?"

"I asked you what version of me you liked better and you claimed that you didn't know. You didn't seem to like me all that much when I was being 'mysterious and scary,' love."

"As entertaining as this conversation is, I recall only agreeing to go with you under certain terms."

Harry frowned. "You're no fun."

"Cool. Now finish what you were about to tell me."

Harry sighed deeply before looking at me intently. "I was about to tell you that no matter who you go on to choose, nobody will ever drive you as insane, nobody can admire you in their whole lifetime as I do in a single day."

I spoke up to keep myself from becoming flustered. "Not only do you alter the words of Darcy, but also that of Heathcliff? I'm starting to think that you lack originality." I couldn't look at him. I could already imagine how intense he must look right now and looking at him would either encourage me to burst into tears or into laughter.

"I'm very original when I want to be, Y/N. But your words and actions may have caused me to conclude that you don't really like me, causing me to steal pick up lines from literary men."

I finally worked up the nerves to look at him. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me weak. "I suppose you're right."

He smiled cockily. "I usually am, love."

I ignored him as I continued eating my food. When I finished I looked at him, finding out that I have already captured his attention. I coughed softly. "If that was all you wanted to tell me, I would like to go home now."

"As you wish. I have lots of things to say, but since you've implied that I've lost my mysteriousness, I'll save my words for another day."

Usually I would argue, but I couldn't bring myself to doing so at the very moment. If he started quoting Rochester my heart would probably burst out of my chest and run a mile — probably being the most exercise I'll ever get.

Harry paid because I don't usually bring my money to school and didn't really plan on going anywhere with him today. After that, we left. The car ride was awkward and silence as I tried to avoid his heavy gaze at every stop sign we passed.

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Coot