Dean: We have to talk. I'm coming to find you.
"Belle?"
I'm frozen. I want to move to pick up my phone, but I can't. I hate how fear paralyzes me. I hate how Dean paralyzes me.
"Are you okay, love?"
Harry's light touch on my arm snaps me back into reality.
I just won't text him back, he doesn't know where I am.
I'm okay.
God damn it, Belle, Breathe.
Don't freak out this time.
I'm going to have a good ass night and nothing is going to get in my way, not even Dean.
I'm not letting him do this to me anymore. He doesn't control me like he used to. Sometimes I forget that I'm free and I instinctively react in fear to him. I need to be calm, cool and collected. Calm, cool and collected. Calm, cool and collected...
I quickly reach down and grab my phone off the car floor.
"I'm good. Sorry, I just zoned out there for a minute."
"Are you sure?" He shoots me a worried glance and his eyebrows furrow in concern. He looks so god damned cute when he does that. I force back a smile. "You looked quite upset, Bella."
"Stop worrying about me, Harry. Let's just have fun tonight, yeah?"
---------------------------
The tiny, yet lively bar is packed with people. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes and cheap perfume hang in the air and fill my every sense. The lighting is dim and the atmosphere is dull and full of smoke. It's kind of dark and creepy, but typical of any bar of I've ever been to.
I follow Harry through the mass of drunks, focusing on his tall head of curls so I don't loose him. His walk begins to slow and he stops at a table near the stage and turns to me smiling. These must be his friends.
"Everyone, this is Belle." I look nervously at the group of cool young adults and give an awkward wave.
"Belle, this is Zayn, Perrie, Liam, Sophia, Niall, Louis and Sarah." I remember that girl. That's the girl he was with at the 99. Why the fuck is she here? Fucking Sarah.
I plaster a smile on my face and say a quick hello. They all greet me back sweetly, except Sarah, who is picking at her nails in apparent boredom at my presence. I can't stand her.
I glance at Harry, who is scratching the back of his neck nervously. By the looks of it, he didn't know Sarah would be here.
"Belle, pull up a chair and we'll grab you a drink." The blonde one, Neil I think, shouts cheerfully with an Irish brogue.
I turn around to look for a chair, but I bump into Harry's chest. I mutter an apology at my cluminess and take a couple steps back. These heels are no good for me.
He places a chair next to Niall for me and I take a seat.
Harry places his hands on the back of my chair. I get immediate goosebumps from the contact of his knuckles against my bare shoulders. I can feel the pressure of Harry's hands as they squeeze the wooden frame. I turn to face him and place a light hand over his whitening grip. I look up at him, his eyes still illuminating even in this dark place.
I give his hand a reassuring squeeze and smile, as if to say, everything is okay. He seems to relax a bit as he smiles back. I turn back around in my chair. Niall places a tall glass , of what looks like beer, in front of me.
