“Here, try this,” Harry whispered to a stiff Evangeline, sliding a thick glass of booze in front of her. He had his arm limply around her in a casual, subtle way, and he sent her a watching glance, raising an eyebrow.
“What is it?” She asked quietly, keeping her fingers curled in her lap. She eyed the liquid with obvious distaste, seeing the small bubbles forming at the top.
“It’s the finest booze we’ve got,” Harry replied, lightly nudging her with a dimpled grin. “I’ll let you have some - go on. It’ll help you to relax.”
She sighed. “I don’t really want to relax.”
“Hey, Harry…”
Someone stole Harry’s attention then, leaving Evangeline to her own thoughts as she instantly pushed the cup away. She had always been curious as to what booze tasted like, and what it felt like to be whizzed, but in a speakeasy like this, she wasn’t very eager to experience being in that state at the moment. This entire place was illegal; half of these men were probably criminals, no matter how nice-looking they were, or no matter how charming their grins were.
The man sitting across from them had a cigar hanging limply from his lip, the thick smoking surrounding all of them, and Evangeline found it hard to breath. She wished Harry hadn’t taken her tonight, no matter how much she wanted to get out of the lonely house. She would much rather be there, safe in her room with an entertaining novel, than to be here with a place full of strangers.
There was once again a live band playing in front of them, and the saxaphone player caught Evangeline’s eye many times. He was a young, handsome man with a thick hat clouding his eyebrows and dusty blonde hair; he was wearing a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and the reason why he caught her attention was because of how he drowned himself into the music. His eyes had been closed nearly most of the time, drowning out the crowd and everyone else here.
Evangeline quickly looked away, her cheeks lightly flushing when the man’s eyes glanced her way. She has only had very few encounters with the opposite sex, and she and the girls used to giggle over who their dream men were to be in the future. To Evangeline, that had always just been something they did, to dream of who would fall in love with them. But now that she was over 16 years old, the dreaming was becoming more of a reality than ever. She had never spent much time actually wondering who she would fancy or who would fancy her, but now, she was more scared than ever, because she had no idea what she would say to begin with.
The man in front of Harry suddenly started laughing loudly, and the two men sitting beside him were smirking full on. That was when Evangeline noticed the man standing next to Harry, who was scowling to himself.
“I wouldn’t be messing with Styles, mate,” The man with the cigar said. “He’s packing heat tonight.” The brunette pulled the cigar from his mouth and put it out on the table, throwing a lopsided grin at Harry.
“Oh don’t blow your wig,” The man retorted hotly. “I’m not lookin’ for no trouble tonight.”
“Then I’d beat it, if I were you,” Harry spoke this time, his tone calm and even, though threatening altogether. Evangeline watched how Harry unconsciously touched something in the pocket within his trenchcoat, and she felt sick when she imagined a pistol hidden within the depths. The thought of Harry with a gun frightened her, no matter how nice he was to her.
