PULSE [H.S]

043

"When something feels off, trust that feeling. Your intuition is trying to protect you." — Mel Robbins

I have a bad feeling about this day.

Harry got a phone call this morning, and he's been tense ever since. Zayn asked everyone to come to his place for some sort of meeting, and I can only assume that it's not going to be a fun one. I haven't been avoiding Harry necessarily, but I've definitely spent less time in the common areas than usual.

We're in the car, driving to Zayn's now, and I can tell he is on edge already. He taps his finger on the steering wheel, which he doesn't usually do. It unnerves me to see him looking stressed.

I get a text, and I make sure Harry's not looking at my phone as I see Aaron's name. I open my phone, clicking on his message. It reads, 'Get some information out of Styles.'

Then another, 'Your sister turns 21 this month, doesn't she?

It makes me nauseous. I hate that he knows personal things about my life, and I really wish he didn't know about my sister. I'm such an idiot for ever trusting him with that information. I might actually be sick.

Harry's voice startles me. He asks, "Who was that?"

I put my phone away, saying, "Pen. One of our shipments got delayed. I might have to reschedule some clients."

I don't like lying to him, but if he knew about Aaron texting me, he would absolutely flip out.

We get to Zayn's quickly. We pull into the parking spot, and Harry turns the car off. He leans over, his arm brushing against my leg. He opens the glove compartment, taking the gun out.

I just stare at him, eyes wide. He closes the glove compartment and leans forward in his seat, tucking the gun into the waistband of his black jeans.

I say, "Seriously?"

He rolls his eyes at me, getting out of the car and closing the door. I just sit there, stunned by the sight of the gun and confused why he needs it here when we are meeting with a group of his friends. He wears it so casually, like it's a normal accessory.

I jump in my seat as Harry slams his hand against the hood of his car, breaking me out of my trance. He looks at me through the windshield, throwing his hands up and raising his eyebrows.

Sheesh. Sorry, Mr. Grouch.

I hop out of the car, following him inside Zayn's building. When we step into his apartment, I'm in awe again. I forgot how nice this place is. The high ceilings really get me.

Niall tackles me in a hug, almost making me fall to the ground. He picks me off the ground, spinning me around in a circle and saying, "There's my favorite girl."

When he puts me back on the ground, I'm slightly dizzy and disoriented. I laugh, "Hi, Niall."

He's like a golden retriever. I love him.

Everyone takes a seat on the couches in Zayn's living room. I plop down next to Harry, keeping a bit of distance between us as I remember there's a gun in his pants right now. He glares at me, as if he can sense my judgment.

I say quietly, with a little attitude, "What?"

"You fucking know what," he replies.

I say, "I'm sorry that I'm still not used to everyone I hang out with having guns tucked into their pants. It's a bit of an adjustment."

He says, "You're so fucking irritating."

"You're just grumpy today," I say, rolling my eyes.

He says, "So then why the fuck are you trying to piss me off even more?" I don't know what to say to that. He has a point. He says, "That's what I thought."