I watched as his long fingers danced around the gearshift of his impeccably restored Audi. The last time I sat in this seat I was in a state of fear and panic, I can still hear the glass of the windows shattering around me. I dug my nails into my bare knees at the memory of the hour that took place just days ago.
“I fucking hate driving fishbowl.” He announced before slapping the gear, whipping around a corner. His hair was still wet and the smell of his mint shampoo lingered in the heat blasted sport car.
“Fishbowl?” I questioned.
“Ya, I haven’t got the windows tinted.” He responded monotonously; as if I should have known.
“Oh.” I breathed.
Minutes passed, Harry speeding down the freeway, flying by multiple police cars stationed in various areas, waiting for someone to be driving as dangerously as Harry; just not Harry. I’ve concluded that everyone really does know who he is. What he does. Not even federal officers want to get in between him and a fine of any sort.
He weaved in and out of the lanes and turned off an exit before I could even find a good grip to hold myself steady.
“Stay with me.” He said. I looked up at him; his hair pushed back in his hood, I observed his chiseled jaw and watched as it clenched at his own thoughts, whatever they may be.
I sighed. “Where am I gonna go?”
He made a short grunt in his throat as a response.
The street grew darker as we proceeded down. The area became more wooded and less urban. I stared out into the darkness waiting for at least a street lamp. Harry flicked on his brights and slowed down, peering over the wheel.
“You know where you’re going?” I questioned.
He raised a brow and made eye contact with me for the first time in what actually seemed like days, but really only minutes.
“Do I know where I’m going.” He mocked me, “ Yes, I know where I’m going, Vaeda Marie.”
“Can you not?” I retorted without even realizing. The use of my middle name only reminded me of my mother.
“You don’t want me to know where I’m going?” he sat back in the seat and cut the wheel quick down a drive. My body tossed violently over the center console, my hand finding their only grip high on his thigh. My fingers slipped between his thighs as the car leveled out, the side of my palm grazing what I knew could only be one thing. I quickly pushed myself back into my seat and couldn’t find words to say and my eyes couldn’t look at anything but his face as he smirked, undeniably amused by my unsteadiness. “I told you to put your seatbelt on.” He shook his head mockingly.
He put the car in park and slipped his keys into his pocket.
“Do you know this area?” he quizzed.
“No.”
“Good. Can I trust that you won’t sneak away then, ya?”
I told him yes as I pulled my skirt down.
Truth is I’m too afraid to even leave Harry’s side. Even in his house. I can’t explain it. Even though I tell myself I hate him, I feel this weird pull in my gut that’s telling me I need him.
***
“Styles! Mate! How’ve ya been?” Harry’s grip tightened around my wrist and he pulled me into him as his blonde friend walked over, beer spilling from his bottle.
“Horan, nice to see you.” Harry extended his hand, his friend took the offer and brought himself in for a quick pat on the back. He made a quick glance at me and back to Harry.
