Ugly (Dark Harry Styles AU)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

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"Okay, it's my turn. Umm never have I ever uhh... had sex in a car," I drunkenly smile, wobbling in the bar stool that Harry and I have occupied for the past 4 hours.

After my mom's funeral, Harry took me to a cheap motorcycle bar that was only a few minutes away from the graveyard. The bar's ugly brown brick walls was cluttered with posters of motorcycles and half naked women, bright beer light-up signs, and funny license plates. Dirt bikes hang from the ceiling and went around the perimeter of the room. On the left side of the room was a bar, where we were, and on the right side there was dark wood booths.

When we first got there late afternoon, the bar was empty aside from us, the two employees, and an old man who was past out in a booth. Now that it is 7 in the evening, business is picking up and men dressed in leather vest and black boots crowds the bar and fills the silence.

Harry tries to hold a look of annoyance on his face, but a wide grin breaks through as he laughs, "Come on, you are purposely trying to get me out now."

Picking up the shot glass that was filled with the clear liquid of hard tequila, Harry tips his head back, chocolate curls flying everywhere, and swallow the content of the shot glass in one go. Some of the alcohol escapes from the corner of his lips, trails down his thin porcelain cheeks to his sharp jaw, then finally drips onto his black shirt. 

Jesus he is hot.

Due to the amount of shots Harry and I have already consumed, we have quickly become the happiest people in Chicago, our shi.t-lives completely forgotten. Me being the square that I am, I currently have 7 fingers down, while Harry only has five.

"I cannot believe you never had sex in a car," He slowly pronounces, opening his eyes exaggeratingly wide in emphasis, the alcohol effecting his speech and reactions.

"Yeah, never really had time for fun. Always had to be the uptight responsible one," I reply, looking off into the distance in thought, "now I can do whatever the fuc.k I want since I have no one to take care of anymore."

I look back towards Harry, who I find is watching me. A warm feeling fills up the pit of my stomach when seeing the tint of adoration glaze over his eyes and the slight smile on his pink lips.

"What?" I squeak, blood rushing to my neck and cheeks.

"It's just..." Harry trails off, eyes continuing to scan my face.

"What?" I ask again, looking down in shyness. 

Since the first day I saw him in class, I have been incapable of enduring his eyes on me. The secrets of my soul seem easy for him to read with just one look of his piercing gaze. For the past two weeks since finding my mother, Harry didn't disappoint with his consistency of staring at me. The first week, not a word was spoken between us, however, on the second Harry finally approached me. 

Those who knew that the famous of Maria Gatz was my mother, approached me and offered their condolences. Harry, on the other hand, did not. It was after class ended that he pulled me to the side. 

"Can I take your picture?"

After the words left his mouth I was completely dumfounded. At first I thought he had pulled me to the side to offer his condolences for my loss. This was the last thing I expected him to say. 

"What?" I looked at him in surprise. Why would he want a picture of me?

"I'd like to take a picture of you," he stated once more, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.