Sweet Tooth [HS]

THIRTY SEVEN

"You've got competition anyway, mate," Rory perked up beside him. His own eyes had settled onto his girlfriend in front of them, who was now dancing like a lunatic to a more upbeat song.

Harry shot him a weary look then let his eyes settle on Max. She had her arms above her, and her head was rocked back, exposing the slender stem of her neck. She was singing along to the song, her smile dazzling, her eyes sparkling underneath the light. He noticed guys all around her looking at her, watching her, wanting her. He was well aware that her beauty was nothing less than remarkable, that it couldn't just be him to see her for what she was- an angel. A piece of art. The sun, the moon, the stars. She was beautiful. She was actually the most exquisite thing Harry had ever seen. And so of course men were going to desire her, were going to look at her like so many were doing now. Lord knows he did.

But Harry didn't like it at all. Was actually considering going over and dragging her back to him, claiming her as his and his alone, but Rory's voice stopped him.

"You know," Rory shrugged. "Old Finn has his heart set on the girl."

Harry frowned and snapped his eyes back to Rory. He had assumed he was talking about the hungry men in here who hadn't stopped staring at her once.

But Finn?

Who the fuck was that?

"What?"

"You know Finn? Pretty sure you've met him," Rory said it so casually. So unaware of the sudden shot of rage that spurred through Harry's entire being at the words. "You met him at Lola's a while back. Tall. Blonde. Handsome bastard."

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. Finn. As in that fucking bloke who had his hands on Max, who was fucking looking at her like he wanted to eat her. That fucking guy?

"Seriously?" His voice was angry, and Rory turned to look at him.

"Jesus, Haz," he laughed, clearly shocked at the reaction the news had recieved. "Chill out, I don't think it's anything serious between them."

"Between them? What? What's between them?"

Harry was livid. This was the same fucking guy that Max had said was nothing. Was fucking no one.

Rory's eyes widened. He scratched the back of his head.

"Erm. Shit. I wouldn't have told you if I thought it was a big deal."

"Rory," Harry seethed. "What the fuck do you mean? What's between them? Who the fuck is this guy?"

But before Rory could answer, Lexie and Max were in front of them. Both of them were laughing, their cheeks pink from dancing and a sheen of sweat slicked their skin.

"Here comes trouble," Rory looked ecstatic about the distraction. He looped his arm around Lexie, pulling her into his side. Lexie melted into him, bringing her arms around his body as she rested her head on his chest. Max watched them, her heart squeezing at how sweet they were. At how much she wished Harry might do the same one day.

She turned to him, expected to find him staring at her, smiling.

Except.

He wasn't.

His eyes were all cold and hard and he was looking at the floor, looking past her shoulder, looking completely, purposefully away from Max.

"You alright?" Max asked, confused.

She'd actually been quite annoyed when on the dance floor she'd noticed Harry was looking away from her. When she'd seen him talking to Rory she was expecting him to have dragged him into some boring conversation about the studio. Maybe the New York merger. But a bad mood? It was the last thing she'd been expecting.