Truth or Dare (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 8

"Bridgette." I hear him call my name, but I can't move.

"Bridgette you have to listen to me. Open you eyes, look outside." Hesitating, I pull my head up. I'm not in the car anymore, I'm in a room. The sun shines brightly through the window, lighting up the room.

"Where are we?" I ask Harry, my throat dry.

"Idaho." My jaw drops as I collect myself.

"What! Harry, I have to go home. No, no! You took me to a whole other state just so you could hide from the cops! You're insane, completely out of your mind. What about my mother? She's probably worried sick." I pace the tiny room, realizing this is a damn hotel.

"Hate to burst your bubble, but I won't be the only one getting in trouble if I turn myself in, which I'm not going to. You're just as involved in this as I am." His accent is thick, words sharp as knives.

"How so?" I argue, crossing my arms.

"You knew I killed him, and you should've ran straight to the cops. But you didn't, which makes you just as guilty as I am." I want to scream, or punch a wall, but I don't. Instead, I tug at my hair and sit on the queen size bed.

"I can't believe you dragged me into this! Or that I was stupid enough to trust you and go along you to a damn party. What the hell was I thinking?" He sits down beside me and I glare at him. If he wasn't ten times stronger than me, I would punch him in the face multiple times. My mother used to tell me violence is never the answer, but what is the answer in a case like this?

"I'm not going to apologize, there's a lot you don't know about me Bridgette. And a lot you'll never know. Let's agree to just stay here for a while, at least until we can figure out what we're going to do." I laugh in his face, throwing my head back.

"What we're going to do? More like what you're going to do! I'm going home, Harry. You can rot in hell." I stand up and prance towards the door, fury with every step.

As soon as my hand grabs the door knob I hear his voice.

"If you take one step out that door, I'm calling the cops and I'm blaming the whole thing on you." He threatens, making my body cold inside.

"You wouldn't dare." I tell him, afraid to turning around.

"Try me, princess." His words are evil, his voice is cold, and somehow, he still manages to be so damn beautiful.

My hand slides off the door and I take a few steps back, scared to turn around. When I do, my eyes meet Harry's. There still the beautiful green, but behind them is something different than before.

"You're evil, Styles." I spit and turn on my heels, walking away from him and sitting on the raggedy, beige, striped couch, crossing my arms and legs.

My stomach growls and I grab it, trying to mask the sound. I'm tempted to ask Harry where my bags are, but I don't want to hear his voice, much less see his face. Furious is an understatement. I'm fuming, and if it was possible, fire would be shooting out of my ears.

"Hungry?" He states the damn obvious and I roll my eyes, pushing myself off the couch. I search the tiny room for my bags and find them in the corner, along with (I'm guessing) Harry's.

I sit on the ground and search through them until I find the snacks I packed, thankful I did. Also, I pull out a set of clothes, towel, shampoo/conditioner, and my favorite smelling body soap; peaches and cream.

I hurriedly eat the packaged chocolate cupcake and throw the wrappers in the trash, collecting my things and heading towards the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower." I tell Harry before I shut the door and lock it.