Guns [Harry Styles]

Chapter 9

-Carrie's P.O.V-

A few days has passed.

Within those few days, Harry and I bonded a little.

We went out to get some things to fix the dent Harry had made in the wall, went out to the park to play, ate some chocolate and other sweets, and we also argued a couple of times about stupid little things but we did make up afterwards.

Even though we 'bonded', my nice attitude was just an act.

What?

You think I'm going to be nice to this criminal?

It's all part of my plan to get out of here.

He trusts me now.

Well, I think he does.

Who knows?

Harry's nice attitude might be an act as well.

"Wake up!" Harry yells in my ear.

"I'm trying to sleep," I mumble, rolling to the other side of the bed so he doesn't bother me.

I know what you guys might be thinking.

We slept together.

No, no, no.

We did sleep in the same room but he slept on the ground and I slept on the bed.

I tried to make him sleep on the bed and I sleep on the ground but he kept saying no because I was the guest.

It's funny how he said I was the guest.

"Wake up, sleepy head," Harry chuckles, poking my sides continuously.

After ignoring him and trying to go back to sleep, he begins to push me until I fall off the bed.

I land on the ground with a small thud and stay there, trying to sleep again.

"Rie-Rie, wake up," Harry pouts, sitting on top of me.

He is pretty heavy but that didn't make me wake up.

After I heard the nickname he had gave me just now, I open my eyes to look at him.

"Rie-Rie? Where did you get that name from?" I ask, trying to get up but Harry's weight held me down.

"Carrie. Take the last part of your name, which is Rie, and add another Rie so Rie-Rie," Harry explains.

"I know. I'm not dumb. I mean, why did you give me that name?" I say, rolling my eyes.

"I don't know. It sounds cute," Harry smiles.

"Get off me, Haz," I laugh, using all my strength to push him off of me.

"Haz?" He asks, sitting up from the ground and raising his eyebrow in a playful way.

"It sounds cute," I mimic him.

We both get up and walk to the kitchen.

"What should I make?" He asks, looking in the fridge.

"Something good," I say.

"No shit, Sherlock. I'm going to make something bad," He says sarcastically, rolling his eyes at me.

"Shut up," I smile, punching his arm playfully.

"I'm too lazy to make something. Want to go out and eat instead?" He asks, closing the fridge door.

"Sure," I answer.

Since we were both already wearing sweats and a T-shirt, we didn't really need to change so we head straight to the car and make our way onto the streets.