Cheshire Cat [[EDITING]]

2

"Yeah I am just so sorry. I'll get you a new drink, an-and a new shirt. I am not sure what I was doing to be honest but," my nerves kicked in once I recognized the man in front of me.

I feel my face flush and I know immediately that it has gradually changed bright pink with embarrassment, only growing brighter as the crowd gathers to watch the scene unfold. My eyes finally meet his and my heart nearly stops slowly sinking from my chest into my stomach, his piercing green eyes full of concern burn into my caramel brown eyes. My knees go weak as my legs morph into Jell-O. My eyes instantly shoot nervously back down to my feet. I see the contents of his drink spilled out between us, what the hell do I do? I feel so awkward.

"Are you okay?" he asks again, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other on my elbow to be sure I had full balance. His touch certainly was not helping my frantic thoughts. I can't believe I have yet to answer his single question; I am that much of a nervous mess.

"I think so.... Are you? I feel terrible." I say pointing at his shirt, pulling my eyes from the ground to meet his once more. My nerves are getting the best of me sending trembles throughout my entire body, I am positive my voice reflects that, coming out a trembling disaster mirroring what was going on internally.

"Don't worry about it; you hit your nose pretty hard. I just want to be sure you are okay. You seem to be bleeding quite a bit." His brows furrow with guilt, but his face was still beautiful, I can't look away.

"Yeah I think I am fine. I didn't feel it too much to be honest." I admit with a slight shrug, the alcohol had aided in numbing my senses although I wasn't about to admit I had been drinking mid day. I am captivated with his perfection, left starring at him wide eyed in complete and utter shock.

His intense gaze broke mine to scan our surroundings, obviously taking notice to the audience we have gathered. His voice is calm and slow, thick with a British accent, the perfect lethal combination.

"Here, follow me." He moves his left hand from my shoulder down to my mid back, sending chills in their wake as he guides me.

My mind is a whirlwind of confusion, not able to process the events as quickly as they are unfolding. My legs are complete putty as a result of his hand trailing down to my back, and it takes all my concentration to be able to function properly and trail beside him.

"Don't trip, don't trip." I continue this mantra in my head; this situation is embarrassing enough, no need to add to the circus with my lack of grace.

He swiftly and gracefully bends down to pick up the trash with his right hand and tosses it in the conveniently located garbage can, then returns his hand to my elbow. Almost everyone on the street has stopped to gawk at the two of us by this point. I keep my head low and my nose in my hands feeling the slight trickle of blood dripping. This is completely humiliating.

We stop in front of the back door of a black Range Rover with extremely tinted windows. Harry reaches into his right pocket pulling out a key, still managing to keep his other arm around me. I try to keep a distance between the two of us so I don't ruin his shirt any further, but as I pulled away slightly he gently pulls me back in. The heat from his touch sears right through my clothing igniting my skin, and I remind myself to breathe before I pass out.

"Get in." He instructs in a slightly stern voice. I feel my chest tighten and I oblige, too nervous to form a coherent thought of my own.

My head is whirling and I am not sure if this is even happening. I slide in and he closes the door behind me. I feel a pulse of panic fill my body. My heart pitter-pattering in an uneven rhythm as my stomach twists into knots. Where is he going? I feel incredibly stupid right now; I pull my hand down to check the damage and the blood continues to flow steadily. I don't feel as if I hit it that severely, but the alcohol has thinned my blood just enough to intensify the flow.