I swear, when is it going to get through his abnormally large head that acting like a prick is a total turn off? Does he think I enjoy his endless displays of arrogance and cruelty? Does he really believe that by continuing to act like a git, he'll win me over? Why doesn't he realize that I'm not like all the other girls that he's dated? I see his good looks, but I see past that as well. I can see his superciliousness and his utter lack of remorse for any of his actions, and it fills me with such repulsion I can hardly stand to look at him!
But…But that's not exactly true. Because even though I tell myself every day that I despise that contemptible excuse for a human being, I can't help but sneak glances at him and think about him constantly. I spurn his arrogance and I loathe his uncalled for malice, but there's something about him that just appeals to me… And I can't help but not hate him fully.
It's the times when he's bare of all pressure that really get me. The sudden bursts of innocence and pure happiness when he thinks no one is looking. They're hardly noticeable, and gone in a flash because he's got a reputation to keep up, but I notice. I, who can actually see past the flimsy façade, can discern the momentary glimpses that prove he's human. The way his eyes can shine with joy after he's just scored during a Quidditch game, the genuine grin he gets when he's happy, as opposed to his flirtatious smile—those are the things that captivate me. It's when those moments occur that I lose all sense of hate for him—I can tell that even though he acts like a conceited prick, somewhere inside of him, he's good.
I'm just waiting for him to lose his arrogant pretense, and then I'll give him a chance. But until then, every week, every day, every hour he asks me that predictable question, the answer is no. Even though a part of me wants to say yes, because of the rare moments the soul I wish he had shines through, a much larger part of me says no.
"Hey, Evans!" I look up, and it's him, entering the common room through the portrait hole. I didn't think he'd be out this late, I would have thought he'd be in bed. I wonder what he would say if he knew I'd been thinking about him just moments before he came in the common room?
"So, Evans, I was thinking that maybe next Hogsmeade—"
"No."
See that? That's how it's done. Quick and simple. A million no's until he decides to change.
"Busy, huh? That's all right, some other time." He's gone before I can retort, up the stairs to the boy's dormitories.
I want to scream. How much more of this can I really take? How much longer until it penetrates his big head that I just want him to change? I've told him countless times that's all I want, but he doesn't seem to believe that the reason I won't go out with him is because he's a prick. He doesn't even seem to believe that he is a prick. But if I've got one thing, it's willpower. I can say no indefinitely, so try your best, Potter. Ask me out a million times, and I'll say no each time until you choose to change.
Gahhh. I don't know. Does it suck? Is it good? Well, let me know, it would make me happy. And feel free to point out the smallest, tiniest, most diminutive and miniscule mistake because I'm somewhat of a perfectionist. I'd actually love it if you pointed out the smallest, tiniest, most diminutive and miniscule mistake :)
P.S. Sorry it's really short…
