Stitches

0.7

My head was spinning, a confusing mix of anger, frustration, and something sharper, something bitter. Harry had beaten that guy up; he'd ruined what was supposed to be my one carefree night in forever. My heart thundered, the alcohol making every feeling ten times stronger and fuzzier, but one thing was clear—I couldn't stay here. Not with him.

I found Mia and Ada dancing near the DJ booth, both grinning and swaying in sync with the music. I plastered on a smile, trying to bury my confusion, my irritation, anything to stop them from worrying. "Hey, I'm so sorry, guys," I said, touching Mia's arm, "but I'm feeling a bit sick. I think I'll just head home. But you two should stay and enjoy the night!"

Mia immediately offered to leave with me, but I shook my head. "No, I already booked an Uber," I lied. "Seriously, stay, have fun. Love you guys!" I pulled them in for a hug, forcing a cheerful goodbye before slipping toward the club's exit.

Of course, I had to walk right by his table on my way out. I kept my gaze firmly ahead, my feet moving faster, pushing through the haze of flashing lights and foggy air until I finally stumbled out into the cool night. The rush of air hit me, and I took in a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers shaking as I tapped open my phone to check the Uber price.

"$65 for ten fucking minutes?" I muttered. No way could I afford that. Sighing, I pulled up directions and spun around to start my walk home.

And then I froze.

Parked across the street, almost in shadow but still unmistakable, was the same car I'd seen earlier. The one that seemed to have followed me a few times this week. My stomach clenched, and a fresh wave of unease washed over me. I forced myself to keep moving, my steps picking up speed as I headed down the street.

Focus, Piper, I told myself. I needed to stop thinking about that sketchy car, about Harry and the absurd, unexplainable events of the night. Why had he beaten that guy up? And why had he acted like he didn't even know me? My mind raced, replaying the scene in the bar. Harry's face—cool, collected, and completely unaffected. What a fucking jerk. An arrogant, entitled fucking jerk who thought he could mess with anyone he wanted and get away with it.

My heels clicked on the pavement as I walked, the night around me silent except for the occasional car in the distance. The path grew darker as I passed through the residential blocks. I glanced at my phone; I still had about fifteen minutes left to go. The cool air stung my skin, and I wished I'd remembered to grab my jacket.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I barely noticed the shadow flickering behind me until I heard the sound of footsteps. My pulse jumped, and I quickened my pace. Could this night get any worse?

Fine, if some sicko creep was following me, I wasn't about to make it easy for him. I slowed down for a second, feeling the footsteps draw closer, and then spun around, driving my knee hard into the figure's groin, while landing my heel down on his foot, hard.

"Ah, what the fucking fuck, Piper!"

Harry's voice snapped through the dark, low and irritated. He doubled over, clutching his balls, groaning in pain. I backed up a step, my heart still racing. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I started, and then the frustration kicked in. "Why the fuck are you sneaking up on me in the middle of the night? Were you following me?"

Harry straightened up, wincing but regaining his usual annoyed expression. "You're full of questions, aren't you?" he muttered, rubbing his jaw as if that would help the pain.

"Are you serious right now! You ignored me in the club, acted like I was some stranger, and now you're following me?" The alcohol was fuelling every question, every ounce of irritation. I folded my arms, refusing to budge until I got some answers.