25 Days With Mr. Arrogant - A Harry Styles fanfiction

CHAPTER 1:

You're breaking up with me?"

His head hung slightly and he stared down at the pasta plate in front of him, his eyes avoiding mine. "I'm sorry," He mumbled, shrugging lightly. "I just feel like our relationship is going nowhere."

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes not leaving him, the anger in me building up in a frightening manner. No. Oh no. This wasn't happening, it wasn't.

"How precious, Cole," I said after a moment, sneering at him. "Breaking up on our six month anniversary, how perfect." I paused for a moment, inhaling deeply through my nose, and had the incredible urge to spew word vomit at the boy situated across from me. Keep it down keep it down keep it down. "Did you plan this out, hmm? Did you think it would be perfect timing to fuck me over on our half year?"

"I'm sorry."

"No- no, don't you dare say that," I snapped, my voice rising. "Say anything but you're sorry."

"Alex..." He sighed, trailing off, and looked up then. His eyes were wavering slightly as he stared at me, "You... you deserve better than me. I mean that."

I'd heard enough of him at this point, and stood from my seat, chucking the napkin into my plate of untouched chicken penne. "It's fine," I announced coldly, "I was going to do this eventually, so I should be thanking you for saving me the trouble."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I was already well on my way out of the restaurant, storming past the hostess with rage flowing through my veins, intoxicating me. Shoving the door open and stepping outside into the cool night air, I realized I needed to clear my head before I did anything irrational. Taking long strides, I followed the uneven sidewalk into a back alley, which wrapped around to an empty parking lot.

I stopped and sat on the curb, my legs stretched in front of me, my hands balled into fists in my pockets. When my fingers brushed against an object in the right pocket of my jacket, rage once again consumed my entire being. I pulled out the object and dropped it into my lap; it was a small, flat box, a red bow stuck on the top. I opened it, my breathing becoming erratic as my eyes landed on the two small strips of paper laid gently within the tissue paper. Two tickets to a Yankee's game. The seats were amazing - the price, however, was not so helpful on my bank account. I'd waited in the rain for these tickets. Underneath them was tucked a small piece of paper.

"Happy six months! I love you."

God, I was a fucking moron.

My fingers closed around the box in a tight grip, turning my knuckles white, and before I could help myself, I had stood up quickly and chucked the object as far and as fast as I could. I was breathing heavier now, a sense of relief washing through me, and I smiled maliciously to myself. That felt good, I decided. Yes, very good. I brushed my hands on the tops of my legs and began to walk back towards the main street, empowerment pulsating through me, but I hadn't gotten very far because a voice broke my thoughts.

"Hey, you!"

I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly to see a figure standing in the back parking lot where I'd just been. It was a male. He was swallowed by a white tshirt and black jeans, his arms crossed over his chest. He had a tall frame, I noticed. As I took a hesitant step towards him, his face became clearer under the street lamp. He was wearing a plaid bandana, which hid long, brown curls. His eyes, which stared murderously at me, were a green color. As my eyes trailed down his body, I saw the flat box I'd just chucked minutes ago in his hand.

"This yours?" He asked, waving the box slightly. His voice was deep, and held a british accent.

"Yes," I replied coolly. "Why?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. He turned to look behind him, motioning to something with his head. "Do you see that car?" I looked behind him to see a big, sleek, black car parked maybe one hundred feet behind him. I nodded and he let out a quiet laugh, "That is mine."

I rolled my eyes, "Good for you."

His eyes darkened and he raised the box again, waving it in front of me. "This is yours, that car is mine. This..." He paused for a moment to thrust it towards me, "Hit my car."

I scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Come here," He demanded, walking swiftly towards the black Range Rover. I followed begrudgingly, wondering why the hell I wasn't running off at this point. He stopped at the side of the car and motioned down with a long finger. "Look, right there. See?"

I leaned down, squinting my eyes at the area he was pointing to, observing quietly. My eyes scanned the area before I straightened again. "No, I don't see anything."

He sneered, giving me a glimpse of his white teeth. "Look closer."

I sighed, leaning down again, studying the surface of the car for a second time. This time, my eyes caught sight of what he was referring to - a tiny, barely visible scratch. "That?" I pointed at the tiny mark. "That's nothing, it's a scratch."

"This dented my car," He spat, looking down at the box in his hand before his gaze landed on me again. "Do you have any idea how expensive this car is?"

"I don't really care," I replied dryly. "Look, I've had a shitty night, I'm not in the mood to be standing in a back parking lot staring at your car, okay?"

"You damaged my property," He hissed, stepping forward. "You must pay collateral."

"I must what?" My mouth opened slightly in awe before I shook my head, "No. No, no. I'm walking away now. Because that- " I paused to point down at the small scratch. "Is nothing."

He raised a hand to his chin, staring down pensively at the side of the vehicle. His long fingers stroked absently at his chin while he nodded in contemplation. "I would estimate at least three thousand dollars in collateral."

"What?!" I practically shouted, taking a step backward, my eyes wide in bewilderment. "What are you on?! That can't be more than a hundred bucks!"

"So," He smirked after a moment, glancing at me. "Will you pay in cash? Or should we contact the insurance companies?"

"I can't afford that," I sneered. "I'm a college student, for God's sake, I can barely afford a week's worth of groceries."

"By the looks of things-" he paused to open the box, his eyebrows rising. "Yankees tickets. Box seats..." he nodded in an assumed impressed manner. "...You don't seem too poor to me."

"Listen, asshole," I snapped, and his eyes widened at this. "I'm not paying you shit. I'm leaving now because I am this close to punching something, and your face is mighty close, if you understand what I'm saying..."

"Threatening me now?" He hissed again. "My lawyer will have a field day with this one."

"Fuck you."

"Sexual harassment, too?" He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sly smile grazing his full lips. "Oh, sweetheart, keep going."

Before he had the chance to continue with his snarky comments, I turned on my heel and took off running, the wind blowing through my frazzled hair and tickling the bare skin of my arms. I ignored his shouts from behind me as my legs pumped furiously. I ran five or six blocks, eventually making it to a drugstore around the corner from my apartment.

I was huffing frantically at this point, feeling the adrenaline pumping through me. I felt victorious, remembering the shocked look on the face of the tall, curly-haired man from the back alley as I took off running. I decided it was time to celebrate, and stepped inside of the drugstore, making my way towards the dairy section. Oh, yes, a pint of mint chocolate chip would sootheeverything. I grabbed the carton from the freezer and made my way to the front, a smile plastered on my face. Cole might have dumped me in front of the entire restaurant on our six month, and I might have blown three hundred bucks on stupid baseball game tickets for him, but I had just outsmarted a prick in an alley and I felt great.

"That'll be three twenty-two," The man at the register informed me as he slid the carton into a plastic bag. With a smile, I reached into my jacket for my wallet, fishing around inside. My eyebrows furrowed together as I searched one pocket, then the other. My smile died within moments, then, upon the realization that my wallet was nowhere to be found.

Oh, shit.