SIN CITY - {H.S au}

Chapter 3 - Who The Fuck Is Harry Styles?

Harry

The moment I first had laid my eyes onto Peyton, was the minute her foot hit the top step of the black spiralling staircase at InterZone.

I was standing up against the far wall, completely minding my business with a drink in my hand and I spotted her almost instantly. The reason being is because she didn't fit in, she didn't belong there, not at a place that that.

She was alluring, how she strolled down the steps with so much grace, delicate with each stride like an angel, the look on her face the minute her eyes wandered around the venue was priceless, she did not know what she was getting herself into. It's the same old reaction with newbies, the wide eyes, parted lips, not knowing exactly where to look because too much is going on at once.

I watched her, studied her.

She was alone which made her ten times more vulnerable, her hands were in the front pockets of her jean jacket, fiddling with the fabric out of nervousness, she chewed on the inside of her cheek like her life depended on it all while making a B line towards the far bar, a huge sign revealing that she was completely and utterly overwhelmed.

I loved it. I love InterZone virgins.

I wanted to know more, it's not very common to see new faces in the club. I in fact am always at InterZone, I'm basically a watchdog for my father since he is never physically there.

I study what happens inside of the building, if anything out of sorts happen. But honestly, I could really never be bothered, instead, I party, annoy the living shit out of the people who work there and help myself to free drugs and liquor. Sometimes a few quick fucks here and there in the back rooms.

My head slowly turned to watch her sit down against one of the stools, her foot occasionally tapping against the metal leg of the seat. The bartender Cindy, that I have a love hate relationship with decided to take her order, which was my cue to go in and eavesdrop. I'm a nosy person, sue me for it.

I had walked towards the bar, pushing the small door open and helped myself to the back area, she didn't even see me walk in at first, she was too focused on ordering.

Ordering cheap cherry fucking vodka to be exact. If you order that shit, you might as well just drink cherry cough syrup and call it even.

"Four Cherry vodka shots, please," she smiled sweetly as I stayed off to the side, hidden behind Cindy. I kept side eyeing her, taking in what she was wearing, a black leather skirt with a flimsy little tank top, her tits pushed together perfectly, and I just remember wanting to run my tongue over them.

"Styles, what the hell are you doing back here?" Cindy had asked, snapping me out of my trance as I flicked my gaze to her face that was directly in front of me. She had the bottle of cherry vodka in her hand, retrieving four shot glasses from the counter.

"Oh come on Cindy, don't you trust me?" I asked her with a smirk on my face, my arms raised up in defence knowing that I was getting under her skin just by being there.

"Knowing you, no I don't trust you, just because you're you, doesn't mean you can come back here and act like you run the damn bar Styles, " she had snapped, but I completely ignored her when I ducked down to the small bar fridge, grabbing a lime and a kitchen knife from the counter.

I had told her I would just make one drink, and I'd be out of her hair for the night. Which was a blatant lie, bothering Cindy was definitely my favourite pastime, she's so easy to piss off.

The mystery girl was staring at me, I could feel her eyes on me as she sat across the bar, Cindy turning on her heel and pushing the shot glasses towards her against the sticky counter before pushing past me and strolling into the back room of the small kitchen area.