Torn

Chapter 13

AN: Thank you for your continued support, as always :). Manips are not my cup of tea, credits for the image above goes to fuckyeahharlena, I saw it in google and followed the link.

Also, I hope you don't get confused, but chapter 10 and 11 have a lot to contribute to this chapter and the next.

Harry...

I release a breath as Selena's dance number with the idiot finally ends.

Don't get me wrong, my eyes never left her form. Seeing her dressed so immaculately while moving gracefully made me thankful for the length of my blazer. Otherwise, I'd be fucking flashing every one of the tent in my pants.

Every flip of her hair, flick of her wrist and sway of her hips had me clenching my fists tightly. She was so perfect and the dance itself would have been perfect, if it wasn't for the fucking talentless imbecile.

He wasn't even trying to dance for Christ's sake! He was just there standing and staring dumbly at her waiting for every chance he got to touch her. Unfortunately, that happened a lot and every single time made me grit my teeth in annoyance. Though it was a good thing he appeared to be reliable for once with his quick reflexes as his hold on Selena never faltered when she did a complicated twist in midair. Otherwise, if he so much as dropped her, then I'm positive my mates would have to bail me out of jail.

I swear I was a second away from a heart attack as I craned my neck. I don't even pay heed to the people behind my back making sounds of disapproval at my fidgeting. She could have been fucking hurt and all these people cared about was seeing her knickers.

God dammit!

But all the blood drained from my face when I had to watch her on her back when the asshole spread her legs.

Who the fuck would choreograph that?

I know the temptations she could pose. I've seen the softness beyond those silks. But can't this tosser keep it in his pants?

It was only when Louis gave me a nudge on my foot that I noticed my hands grasping the armrests and my feet ready, as if I was poised to stand and make my way to the stage and beat the living shit out of what's-his-name, because if the saying 'if looks could kill' was true; then I'm pretty sure he was missing bits and pieces of him right now.

I do dream of the day when I can see and feel her again. But I would very much appreciate it if her skin was only for my eyes and not where all I can do is to helplessly watch as that moron fondles her onstage.

I finally let my back sink to my chair, feeling a bit weary from having my nerves on such high alert. As another presenter takes the stage, it is only then that I realize the message of the song, having been too preoccupied with the whereabouts of the twat's eyes and hands. I don't know if whether I should be insulted or comforted by the coincidence of her dancing to a lover's affair. But as I recall the lyrics of the song and the mix of love and pain as they flashed through her face, I can't help but wish it reminded her of me somehow, even in the littlest of ways.

Not to be an arrogant prick or anything, but I've always been satisfied with my talents. Yet right now I can't help but ask God why he never blessed me with the gift of dancing.

(o)

Selena...

My thoughts are still in a pandemonium half-an-hour after my performance and I don't find it comforting that my companion appears to be quite irked from the moment I got back to my seat which is different from the sweet and charming demeanor he was exuding before our performances. I don't have other reasons for his distress other than my dance number with Alex and it isn't very helpful since I myself don't know what to feel from what I had to do just to go through it.