Old Money • HS

٣

My head snaps to where the muscular voice is coming from, wanting to see who it is.

This man I had not encountered in my life before. He had a tall and lean figure, his hair dyed dirty green. His features were defined, his jawline prominent and his cheekbones high.

"Or what, lover boy?" The old man teased. The man flared and took strides towards the man, raising his fist and colliding it with the drunk elder's jaw. I was freed, and I began to run.

Immediately I was caught by one of the other drunken men, his filthy hands wrapped around my stomach and I screamed bloody murder.

While my hero was fighting off the men, I called for help. Thank the heavens of god that this man showed up. It's like a miracle. But my main concern was that this man had a knife pressed against my neck.

"One step closer and I'll kill her," The drunk man warned.
A punch was placed on my attacker's face, releasing me. I fell to the floor, lightly injuring my knees and winced in pain.

Painful groans was all I heard from them, and not long after the drunk man was knocked out, the man who saved me helping me up.

"Are you okay?" He asked as I take in his prominent features even more. He had dark brown eyes, his eyelashes curled and long. He was the definition of perfection, I thought.

"Yeah," I spoke up. "My name's Zayn. You shouldn't be all alone in this part of town," He comments. "I'm Layla, thank you for saving me. I owe you a lot," I smile.

"It's nothing. I want to give you my number though, in case anything happens." He insists. I nod, my smile winding. He takes out a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbles down his phone number. "Thank you again, you're really kind." I say, blushing.

He nods and leaves after we chat for a bit. I wave at a taxi, wanting him to drive me home as soon as he can. "Where are ya going?" He rolled down the passenger's window. "My apartment is about 15 minutes away," I answer.

"Aight, hope in." He instructs and I do as told. The ride was filled with me giving him directions until we reached my apartment. "Thank you," I hand him five bucks, telling him to keep the change.

I enter the building, waving at the security and heading up to my apartment. "Layla, thank god. Where were you?" I had completely forgotten about Adam.

"Calm down, I'm here now." I avoid answering his questions. I enter my room, closing the door and heading to my bathroom.

I clean myself, not bothering myself to cover my small wound. I have a show tomorrow, which happens to be in a different bar than any of Harry's.

I change into my pajamas, slipping on my flip flops. I make my way towards my ringing telephone, I bring the telephone to my ear, answering with an alo*.

"Layla. I'm coming to pick you up in an hour," A male, raspy voice says. It's Harry, I can tell.
"Uh, okay?" I ask more of agree, still stunned that he has called me. He probably found my number because of the many times I've sang in his bars.

"Where something tight and casual," He says before the line goes dead. I sigh and go to check what to wear.

"Adam!" I call for Adam, deciding he will help me. "Adam!" I yell again, this time he enters, an annoyed look on his face. "What?" He asks.