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Harry's POV
I'm sitting here at the club with my douchebag group of 'friends' I guess you can call them, waiting for Hazel's shift to end. There's Tim, Chris, Tom, and Patrick. "So you've got yourself a black girl. Nice job." Patrick says then takes a sip of his drink. "What is that supposed to mean?" I say, growing highly annoyed. "Nothing. I'm just saying that you probably had to do some things to get a black girl. I bet she's nice and feisty." "You're a prick." I say then clench my jaw. "Calm down man. So what's her job?" Tom asks me. Tom is the one that's not a douche. He's the mediator of the group. I remember one time when Patrick pissed me off and I punched him in the face. Tom had us friends again the very next day. "She dances here." "Wait, you're dating a stripper? She has to be a gold digger." Patrick says. "Patrick if you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'll kick your ass right here in this club." "Damn, bro. Calm down." He throws his hands up in surrender. "So which one is she?" Chris asks me. "The one over there." I say as I tilt my head in Hazel's direction. "Oh, she's hot." Patrick says, practically losing his mind. I lunge at him and the guys hold me back. They struggle, but get me to sit down. "Are you OK?" Tom asks me. "Yeah. I'm fine." "Are you calm?" "Yes." The guys (except Patrick of course because he was already sitting) sit down in relief. I stand up. "Bye, assholes." And with that, I walk over to the bar.
