Cut Ropes (A One Direction Fanfiction)

8: Downstairs

Harry and I stayed at the back of the group, his arm still around my waist. His touch was making me hot in ways I didn’t like. 

After a short walk we arrived at Louis’ already booming flat. It was crazy. As we stepped in there was a security guard taking names.

“Horan, Malik, Passender, and Styles…Styles? I don’t think I see you on here,” the man said. Niall and Zayn had already stepped into the house but Harry still had his hold on me, waiting to be let through by the guard. 

“Are you sure?” Harry asked. The guard looked the list up and down again and shook his head. 

“Sorry I can’t let you through,” he said, moving so we couldn’t get passed him. 

“You might want to rethink that answer,” Harry said, releasing my waist and glaring at the guard. He looked so intimidating. His tall stature was just a little taller than the guard, but the guard didn’t look phased by Harry’s demeanor. 

Just as the guard was about to say something else, Harry swung his fist and connected with the guard’s face, knocking him to the ground. I stood there in shock as Harry grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside, as if nothing had just happened. 

We walked inside and I let go of Harry’s hand and started to look around, trying to find the drinks and get away from Harry. I spotted the crowded kitchen and started to make my way over. Harry grabbed my hand again and followed me. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Let go of my hand,” I said, trying to shake him. 

“No,” he stated simply. He grabbed a beer bottle that was sitting on the counter and drank it with his free hand, not releasing his grip of my hand. I stayed silent and ignored his presence as I walked onto the dance floor. If he wants to stay with me then he will have to follow me around.

I got to the floor and started dancing my way through the sweaty people and into the middle of the crowd. As I got there I recognized the flat since last time I was here when Louis tried to sleep with me. I turned behind me and realized I had lost Harry, so I started dancing like I know how. I swayed my hips to the music and let my non-alcohol filled self just enjoy the moment. 

Until I felt a pair of hands on my hips. I turned to see Harry behind me with a smirk on his face. My face hardened.

“You sure you can handle my dancing? Leave me alone. Go find a slut for yourself,” I said, keeping on dancing, but my front facing Harry instead of my bum. 

“You are my slut,” Harry shouted over the music. What the fuck is up with him? My jaw dropped and before I could rethink it, I slapped him in the face. 

“I’m not a slut, asshole. Especially not yours,” I spat, stopping dancing now. 

“Well I’d rather you are my hypothetical slut then some douchebag try and take advantage of you here,” he said. 

I was shocked to say the least. Why is he suddenly being so protective over me when he kept calling me a slut in the first place? He’s just trying to get in my pants.