Lie to Me // Harry Styles A.U.

#1 HARRY

"Let's have a toast for the douche bags
Let's have a toast for the assholes
Let's have a toast for the scumbags
Every one of them that I know
Let's have a toast for the jerk offs"
—

The pain rippled through my hand as he left out a muffled scream once again. The screaming was getting faint and inaudible each time my ring-littered fist hit the side of his face, allowing the blood to clog his voice box. He was getting dreadfully annoying each second I was there; this bastard was not worth the ache that has spread throughout my whole arm and the ringing in my ears.

"He's fucking useless, leave him be. We can get back to him tomorrow." I say to the boys as I turn to the rusty faucet and pink-stained ceramic bowl we embarrassingly call a sink. The water pressure was barely enough to get the blood from my knuckles, let alone each crevice of my rings.

"You headin' out, Edwards? The usual?" Asher asked me whilst covering the douchebag's head with the blood-drenched hood.

"Yeah. Hey make sure his hands are tied well, I don't want any more accidents." I point to the ropes as I start to walk out and try to block out their voices that are reminding me to come back on time.

"Shit, this took longer than expected, it's already 11 so we have to get here early tomorrow. Hey, 9 am SHARP, EDWARDS!" He made sure to scream the last part so I can hear it on my way out. They say this to me every time I go out and I have always come back on time, if not earlier. I'm only going a few blocks out, not across the country.

As I'm walking down the streets of San Diego, I finally feel at ease. The chilly air mixed with the saltiness from the marina nearby is the only sort of tranquility I can get. At last, I can be alone with my thoughts, surrounded by the stillness of the air and the different people I will never see again. I try my best to stay independent. I don't associate myself with others unless it's needed. For example, the boys; I work with them and see them every day so there is no way I can not identify with them.

The crew and I have come a long way, some longer than others. Every day, our lives are put into each others' hands and we have no choice but to trust they'll keep it safe. I have always been one to not mix business and pleasure, but at this point it's inevitable. They're my best friends, but it doesn't change the fact that they're fucking annoying.

As I officially enter the Gaslamp District, the variety of music and the bars buzzing with people fill my ears. Any and every time I come here, there is always a different scene going on. On the bench to my right, two people are putting their tongues down each others' throats. The tree right next to them is surrounded by a few guys smoking cigarettes, flicking the ashes off from time to time into the soil.

What a fire hazard.

As I walk into the Tavern, the smell of citrus garnishes and vomit fills my nostrils. A weird mixture, but it smells like home. Gloria spots me standing in the middle of the doorway, savoring the vibe of the night, and quickly gets ready to pour my usual, Moonshine-Cherry Blush.

"I was hopin' to see you tonight. Had the suga and 'shine all ready for ya. Sit and pass a good time, it'll be ready soon." Her accent was as thick as the humid down in Louisiana, as she once told me. I smiled at her, making sure I got my dimples to show since she admired them deeply.

I shut my eyes as I took in the first sip of the night. I can never get tired of the lemon mixed with the minced herbs and the tartness of the grenadine. It was the perfect drink, I tried it once at a girls birthday party in high school and it was the best thing I've ever had my hands on.

After a couple of moments of bliss, I expected Gloria to be staring at me with a wide grin plastered on her face, waiting for the perfect chance to say Laissez les bon temps rouler as teasingly as she can. As my eyes find her on the other side of the bartending to another customer, someone else's eyes find mine. There was someone watching me, and it was not Gloria.