rain. |h.s|

03

I stare back him, unsure how to respond. I look back down at my empty beer glass that still has small foam lingering at the bottom.

It gets a bit awkward when he says that. I use the top of my pointer finger to stir the liquid, avoiding having to answer him. I clear my throat, leaning down to the left, reaching inside my purse. I pull out my phone, sitting straight in my chair again to properly look at my phone.

9:04PM.

I didn't expect it to still be so early, otherwise I would've gotten a reason to leave. But it's barely been an hour that we've been here. Harlow and I were out of the house by 8:30PM, and over here by 8:45. He watches me continuing to stare at my home screen for a few more seconds before looking back at his full beer.

"Right, uhm. I should start heading home." I set down my glass, using the counter as support to stand up.

But I lose my balance of my body, his palm immediately shooting to my back. I look at the marble counter for a moment, then I turn to him to give him a slight thankful nod. I pull my lips into a line as I walk to my handbag still lousily lying next to the bar stool I was once seated in. 

I bend over, not realizing there are eyes on me. I return to my original posture, spinning around to notice a group of three or four men staring at me with sly smiles across their faces.

"When's she gonna get on stage?" One of them laugh, lightly nudging the one next to him.

I don't bother to reply, I simply mutter, "Fuck you," under my breath.

The man stops laughing, an immediate offense lying in his eyes. I feel almost proud of myself. I would've definitely done this before mom's death, but I think now I'm just even more unbothered. This has happened too many times in the clubs me and Harlow have gone to, so this is pretty normal. Except, Harlow's usually with me when it happens but, oh well. I feel way too confident right now, I just know it's going to come back to haunt me later.

"Excuse me?" He asks with a stern tone.

"I said, fuck you." I laugh a little under my breath. It's okay I'm almost done for the night and then maybe I can go home and actually attempt to get one minute of rest.

He stares, not expecting such a response from me. He huffs, turning to one of his friends, hoping for some additional support.

"Bitches like you need to understand where you stand." He paces to me, "Mind if we borrow her?"

The man suddenly grips my wrist firmly, looking over my shoulder to Harry. I grunt, my heart bouncing in between the walls of my chest. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said that. I. Should. Not. Have. Said. That.

I turn, matching my eye alignment with Harry's. There's only one right answer Harry, don't fuck this up. He studies my eyes for a moment, then breaks our gaze. He looks over to the man still holding my wrist and then grins maliciously. That doesn't look promising.

"Not at all. Have at it." He says before turning back in his chair.

Oh my god.

"W-wait. What?" I mumble, one of the other men jumping to my other side.

This is not happening. He did not just leave me with these assholes like that. These guys look fucking crazy. They could rape me. Or kill me. Or something worse. I don't know. The man holds my right wrist tight, while another is grabbing my left. They begin directing me away from Harry, not a glance coming from him as they drag me away. So what was that whole 'I want to keep you' shit?  I kick my feet as they drag across the floor, trying my best to free myself from their hold. I shouldn't have been so confident. What do I know about confidence? I couldn't order a salad from a restaurant when I was 8. Why start this whole confident thing now?