Heartbreaker [h.s.]

Chapter Sixteen*

The lights flash bright red, right on cue with the final notes of the music. My hand aches from playing with such force for the past hour, the last strum of the guitar allowing it to finally relax now.

"Thank you Chicago!" Harry screams into the microphone, his hair sticking to his neck with sweat. He takes the beer that he's been sipping on all night and lifts it to his lips—he's going to do the whale as the fans have named it. He's started doing it at the end of every show and the crowd goes fucking wild for it and he loves every second of the attention it brings him.

That arrogant asshole.

I watch as the amber liquid slips out of the sides where his mouth can't catch it, falling onto his black t-shirt and dampening it. It's absurd, but it turns my tummy with that familiar flutter as he tips his head back and blows it into mist in the air.

Shouldn't be as hot as it is. But everything he does is hot.

It doesn't help that he kept sneaking glances at me the whole show. Usually, we keep things professional on stage, barely acknowledging each other. I tried to pretend I didn't notice his eyes on me, but I could feel his heavy gaze burning into the side of my figure like a wildfire ready to destroy everything in its wake. Everything being me.

We exit through the side, the crowd still rumbling and clapping like crazy as we leave the stage.

I've got three disgustingly sweaty boys surrounding me, smelling faintly of sweat and beer. I walk a little quicker to get ahead of them and away from their stench, walking straight to the dressing room.

And, to be honest, I want to create as much distance between Harry and I.

I don't like how out of control I feel when he looks at me. I don't want him having that over me.

The boys follow behind me. Niall plops himself down on the couch, but not before snatching up the bottle of tequila that sits on the table in front of him. Louis pulls the bottom of his shirt up to soak up the sweat that streams down his face. Harry walks past them, cracks open a beer without a word, leans against the wall, and drinks it down like it's refreshing water as he glowers at me from across the room.

"That was so fucking fun," Ni exclaims as he takes a gulp straight from the cheap bottle of tequila.

"My adrenaline is still pumping," Louis says, all hyper. "I need to get out of here and get roaring drunk at some bar."

I chuckle to myself as I listen in. He acts like he was sober the whole show, as if he hasn't been drinking since hours before it started.

"I'm in!" Niall shoots up out of the couch. "You guys in?"

His blue eyes flicker between Harry and I.

"I'll meet you guys there. Just send me the address of wherever you choose to go," I say, glancing down at the matching set of cropped leather vest and pants that sticks to my skin. I look fucking great in it, but it's not the most comfortable. If I go out, I need to change first into jeans and a t-shirt. I also suspect the outfit may have to do with all of Harry's staring tonight, as it's tight and the top is low plunging.