Courage to Fly (EDITING IN PROCESS)

Chapter Four

Cheyenne's POV

We pulled up in front of a club called La Lune Bleue. Harry got out as I was gazing at the blue neon sign high up above me. He opened the door for me and helped me out. He handed a valet the keys to the car and took my hand. 

"It's alright," he said, sensing my slight nervousness, "everyone here is friendly." He pulled me close to him as we approached the doors. "Hey, Regie," he said shaking the bouncer's hand. 

"Harry," the big man at the door said, "and who's this?" He asked, looking at me. "I though you were bringing that little imp."  

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I'm meeting Ashley here, but this is my new friend Cheyenne. I owe her one, so she's here for a drink on me." 

"Cheyenne?" Regie said cocking an eyebrow, "I didn't expect that. You look more like a Sparrow." 

I laughed nervously. "Really? I've never heard that one before..." I never really knew what to say to new people. It just didn't work with me. 

"Yeah, but take that as a compliment. I already like you better than the imp, anyway." Regie said winking. 

"Regie, she's just a friend." Harry said. 

"Sure, Styles, whatever you say, little ladies' man." Regie opened the door and ushered us through. 

I looked up at Harry as we went through the short dark hall into the club. He looked upset and frustrated. I though for a moment what it could be, but then I remembered... 

"Whatever you say, little ladies' man..." 

Regie had called him a ladies' man. From what I already knew about him, he hated being called anything like that. He despised the word "womanizer," and hated when people called him a flirt or that he didn't respect the women he was with. On the contrary, he took care of his past girlfriends quiet well, and he was still good friends with many of them. That was one reason why I looked up to the boy, was that he knew how to treat women. Chalk that up to being raised my a single mom and an older sister, but right now he looked upset about it, and I hated seeing the happy-go-lucky spirit of Harry Stlyes dampened on a night where he was supposed to be having fun. 

"Harry..." I said stopping him, "what's wrong?" 

"What? Nothing." He said. 

"Bullshit." I said. 

"What?" He asked his eyes getting a little wide, and the sides of his mouth quirking slightly.  

"It's what Regie said, isn't it. The 'little ladies' man' comment." 

He puckered his lips in a slight pout and turned his head to the right slightly. I gently put my hand on his cheek and turned his face to me. 

"Out of all the people in this club, you should know that I am one of the ones that love you the most because of who I am. I feel like I know you like the back of my hand, and I know that you are nothing like everybody thinks you are. You know how to take care of a girl and make her feel special. And I know what Regie said made you upset, cause I could see it written plainly on your face. Don't listen to any of them, Harry. Ever." 

He looked at me steadily for a moment then placed his forehead onto mine and closed his eyes. "Thank you..." He whispered to me, and then took my hand and lead me through the people in the club to a booth just on the far side of the bar. 

"Hey guys!" He said, his cheerful smile placed back on his face and in his eyes. 

"Harry!" There was a chorus of about eight people saying his name. There were two couples, and then...no, three couples. Those other two guys were cuddling. And then there was a single girl and a single guy on either end of the round booth. The single girl I recognized as Ashley Beth Manson, the currently most hated girl in the world.