"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask again, not sure if I should approach him or back away.
"I just, yeah. I'm fine I think I'm going to go home." Harry backs up.
"No, let me take you home you're obviously drunk."
"N-no I came with Niall and Carlie. I'll find them."
"No..." I begin to protest but Harry is already on his way.
"Are you okay?" John asks as he grips my right hand.
"Yeah, fine." I pull my hand away.
What just happened? One minute I'm kissing Harry and the next he's trying to escape from me.
"John, can I leave early?"
"Yeah of course dear," He smiles pitifully at me.
I nod and walk to the exit. I have trouble finding my motorcycle in the crowd of cars. When I finally spot it, I reach for my keys in my jean pockets and instantly pull out in anguish.
I didn't even know my right hand was in pain until now. I look down to see a split down my middle finger along with a line of trickling blood.
"Fuck." I sigh.
My hand is throbbing and my wrist hurts. I'm not even sure the blood on my hand is mine or Jason's. When I look up, I see a wandering Harry Styles.
"Styles." I call out.
His attention snaps to me, and then he turns around.
"Hey, Styles!" I begin to walk quickly to him.
He stops in his tracks to turn around.
"I um, I'm just looking for Niall and Carlie." His voice is ragged and he reeks of alcohol.
"Well, they're probably gone by now.
"What?" He asks confusingly.
"They either left to go home and fuck each other at Niall's, or is fucking each other in the car. You don't want to find them."
"I..." He seems lost of words.
"I'll take you home." I offer, although it sounds more of a demand.
He looks at me as if he was going to flee again, but finally nods.
I feel a sudden satisfactory as I walk towards my motorcycle.
I forget about my cut fingers and reach for my pockets again. I groan in pain as I pull out and shake my right hand vigoriously.
"Are you okay?" Harry asks. If I weren't mistaken, there was sincere concern in his voice.
"Yeah, it's cool I think I broke a finger or something."
"What? That's not okay." He mutters to himself.
I look over at him, admiring how he looks with his hair not slicked back. His eyelashes barely peak through the top of his glasses as he looks down at his feet.
"It's whatever I'm fine." I try to reach for my keys with my left hand.
"Here, I'll get it." He reaches for towards me and slides a finger into my jean pocket.
With a swift motion, he has my keys looped around his fingers.
When I reach to grab it, he slightly backs away.
"I think I will drive."
I chuckle, "You're fucking drunk. My conditions are no worse than your's now. I'll drive."
