Strip - Harry Styles [A.U]

Chapter 30.

HARRY

Isabelle and I have been laying in her bed for a couple of hours now, watching re-runs of friends. Something she's forced me to do with her. Me in my boxers and her in my shirt and some knickers.

Although I wasn't actually watching or even listening for that matter. I still had Peter's word in my mind. I couldn't stop thinking and re-playing the conversation we had.

"Don't tell her I told you this but I think its because of you."

"Because of you."

"You've been changing her a little bit everyday, even if you or her don't know it."

"You're good for her, I know you are."

"You're good for her."

It cant be me. It cant be. Why would Isabelle Matthews change for me, out of all people. She so independent, she doesn't need anyone, especially me. So why would I be changing her? What is she even changing from? I mean what made her change in the first place. It has to be something to do with her parents.

Isabelle Matthews is like one massive puzzle to me.

"What?" Isabelle's voice spoke, making me look down at her.

I was laying on my back and she had her head on my chest as she cuddled into the side of me. She was looking up at me with a confused expression making me realise I said that out loud.

"You're like one massive puzzle to me." I repeat not caring what she will think.

She didn't say anything to me. Just stared. I stared back, waiting and wanting her to be the next person to say something.

"Yeah?" She said after a moment making me nod. "Well, so are you." She spoke again, looking away from me and to her laptop, that's balancing on my legs.

"What?!" I spoke suddenly, sitting up.

The laptop fell onto the bed beside my legs as I moved to sit up straight. Isabelle untangled herself from me and sat up too, looking at me with knitted eyebrows.

"What?" She said innocently.

"I am not a massive puzzle. Fuck, I'm an open book." I spoke.

I don't even know why I am so offended that she thinks I'm a puzzle. She could ask me anything and I would tell her but her on the other hand. She would cry or argue or throw a fit. She is the puzzle, not me.

"Fine, you're not." She shrugged going to grab the laptop but I stop her by grabbing her wrist and pulling it back.

"No. Why do you think I'm a puzzle?"

"Why are you so offended? You said I was but you don't see me throwing a fit, do you?" She spoke with force making me shrug like she did.

"Why do you think I'm a puzzle?"

"Fine. You think you're an open book but you're not. I mean you're a young man who owns his own business and you're not stuck up and don't fluent your money like most. Your life is so public and so gorgeous yet you seem like you don't care much about all that, yet you do because you care about what all them posh, stuck up people think of you. You seem like you're carefree and just want to go with the flow of life, yet you work and have a routine. You're so bipolar sometimes it gives me a headache. That's why you're a puzzle. Because you seem like you're trying to fit into a life which isn't yours, yet you are so good at it."

I stared at her, shocked and a little speechless and what she said. She's right though. I hate all the posh and stuck up people I'm around all the time. I hate how they act and how they treat people and I don't want to be like that. Yet I want to impress them so bad that I act like them sometimes.