Gravity (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 4

*Two Days Later*

"AND WE DANCED ALL NIGHT TO THE BEST SONG EVER!!!!!" Four girls scream at the top of their lungs. If you think one is bad, listen to four. Or better yet, thousands. I think can hear the  screaming fans from here, and we're still a few miles away from the arena, stuck in traffic.

I bang my head against the steering wheel. Just think, I tell myself, Mustang...

It's difficult to think when you have teenage girls in the back of your car screaming and you have one massive headache coming on. I sigh as the cars begin to move. I swear my friends and I were not like this when we saw Maroon 5, as ecstatic as we were.

The Staples Center is packed, I end up just dropping them off at the front. Parking's a nightmare, so I just give up, play some Coldplay, and drive around. I check the clock on the dashboard. The concert hasn't even started yet. I can tell this is gonna be a long night.

I end up parking in an alley behind the arena. I lock the doors (just in case) and shut the engine off. There's no way I'm going to even try to find another spot, I'm pretty sure the spot where I am is the last one that exists.

I read, I text, I blog, I sing along with Chris Martin, I count the seconds that this hellish night has left. I get out of my car for a moment and look around at the city lights and up at the starry sky that's blocked by the city glow. Suddenly, a song comes to me, and I jump back into my car and grab my songbook and pen and begin writing. I'm on the bridge when I hear a racket outside.

I look up from my writing. What the hell?

A tall, lean guy scrambles out of the exit door of the arena to the alley, rushes down the stairs, and races towards my car.

I scramble around and put the key in the ignition. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t... this guy's gonna rob me... or worse. The car isn't starting, why isn't it starting!? This dang car never wants to start, and of course it gives me a hard time tonight. My hands shake as I turn the key, over and over again. Start, start, start!       

My car makes a noise that sounds something like, eeerrrrr-eeekeeekeeek!

I'm done for. I know it.

The guy's wearing a hat and sunglasses, so I can't tell who he is. Which is really gonna help when I report him to the police, if I get out of here alive.

The guy runs around my car and jumps into the passenger side as I'm still trying to crank the engine. Sh*t, I forgot to lock the doors when I got back in to write the song.

I whip open the door and try to run, my last attempt to get away. He grasps the collar of my shirt as I try to escape, and I'm pulled back into the car.

"Take my money, just please don't rape me!"

"What?" He laughs, and says in a raspy British accent. "I'm not going to-"

He's cut off as a bunch of police and guards come barreling down the stairs a few yards away.

"What the-"

"Just drive!" He demands.

"What's going on!?" I yell.

"Drive or they'll get us!" He shouts. "I am armed, I'm not afraid to use it!"

I turn the key one last time, but the car still won't start. My face pales and my eyes widen. If he doesn't shoot me, I'm gonna go to prison, I'm gonna go to prison, I'm gonna-

The guy wiggles the key a little, then turns it, and the car starts. "Go or we'll both be in for it!" He exclaims.

Now, I'm not one to run away from the law or break rules or anything, but these guys looked really pissed, and somehow I knew they weren't going to buy my story. And on top of that, this dude in the car with me is this close to putting a bullet through my head. So I back up and race out of the alley, out of the arena, and I speed down to the interstate, praying for dear life.