About (Harry Styles)

19.

"Is this how you treat women?" Harry Styles asks, authority laced in his voice, one that I've never heard him speak with before.

"Who the fuck are you?" Chris speaks with the familiar ferocity.

He jerks his arm out from the pop star's hold with so much force that he, himself, almost topples backwards. The drunkard is saved by his friend, rebalancing him on his two unstable feet.

Harry Styles steadily turns around to face me, resting his hands tenderly on my shoulders, strangely making me feel safe, invulnerable to any kind of physical harm that may come.

"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" He asks, hunching slightly so that we are eye to eye. I answer him with a slight shake of the head, silently thanking him for being here beside me.

When my ex-classmate realizes who it is that has challenged him, he takes a step forward and straightens out the collar of his black blazer. He points a fluctuating finger at Harry Styles. "Move out of the way. You don't have any business here," he spits out. Literally.

"I don't?" My sudden savior returns confidently, Chris' snarling failing to have any kind of effect on him. "If I remember correctly, you just mentioned me no more than a minute ago."

"I'm warning you one last time, Styles. Just because you're a fucking celebrity doesn't give you the right to be up in everyone's business. Fuck off or you are going to regret it."

Coming to the club was a horrible idea. I knew I should have never came. If I knew that Harry Styles would be dragged into all my shitty problems, I would have never came.

"Let's just leave," I whisper to him, gently tugging on his leather sleeve.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere," Chris smirks with a sinister look, sending a cold shiver down my spine. "He, on the other hand, needs to go back to where he belongs."

I've only now noticed that there's a small crowd forming around us. The commotion will be found out by the security guards and we will all be kicked out before we can utter two words. Even the famous Harry Styles won't be able to get out of this one.

Before I even get the chance to beg the pop star for us to leave again, someone else attracts my attention.

"Chris, let's go," Kai finally speaks up, and tries to yank his drunk friend away from us. His endeavor is weak, Chris who's much brawnier than my ex-boyfriend, jolts out of his friend's clutch with little effort.

"Oh, I get it," Chris speaks with an amused voice, a pernicious grin curving at his lips. "You two were fucking in there, weren't you?"

We don't argue with guns and instead keep quiet, afraid that any answer might trifle up ridiculous rumors. But then again, silence can be taken as confirmation. And that's what exactly what Chris takes it as. He laughs hysterically, clapping his hands slowly and sarcastically. "Wow. Congratulations Styles, you actually got yourself some. I'm not surprised though that it's her. She's an easy one. I must warn you, even though it's pretty on the outside, once you have a taste, you might be poisoned from its dirtiness."

At that, Harry Styles launches towards him, but I hold him back, my fingernails digging themselves into the rich leather of his sleeve. Our eyes connect in an instant, and I notice for the first time, how different they appear from the past. The irises in his eyes are darker, cloudier, maybe even a little more perverse than before.

I've never seen him so worked up before. And honestly, it's a lot frightening.

"Please don't," I beg through a frantic whisper. "It's not worth it."