The Boxer

Chapter 1

     Harry pulled his black shirt over his head, sweeping his mop of wet curls to the side since burying them with a towel took too long for them to dry. The tall boy slung his dufflebag over his shoulder and began walking out  of the locker room before coming face to face with his trainer. 

     "Harry, what the hell was that?! You almost cost us the match with that little stunt!" he spat. Harry slicked his tongue over his teeth, trying to keep from punching Matt in the face just to shut him up. "Are you LISTENING? I'M FUCKING TALKING TO Y-"

     "I know! Okay. Fucking Christ, Matt. It won't happen again, alright?" the younger male growled as  he pushed past his elder. Harry muttered curses under his breath as Matt hollered after him. He honestly couldn't care less at the moment. Or really ever. Matt's threats were always empty, anyways. 

     Harry walked outside to his car, hitting the 'unlock' button on his keys before throwing himself into the car to escape the cold, London night air. He couldn't help but notice a figure on the sidewalk near the street lamp.  Squinting, he saw it was the girl he winked at earlier. What was she still doing here?

     He debated getting out and going to ask why she was still here until she spotted him staring from his car window. Ultimately, Harry shrugged, not bothering to go and speak to her. What was the point, anyways? She was just some chick on the street and, in this part of town, probably a whore, too.

     Harry put his car into drive and pulled out of the small lot, heading down the road to his flat. It was probably going to be another lonely night in his home unless he got a text about a party or decided to go out and find one. As Harry contemplated how his night would go, his phone vibrated in the seat next to him. Being the careless person he was, he snatched his mobile from the seat and scanned the message he had received, a smirk hitting his lips immediately.

     He had a party to go to.

~

     After thirty minutes, Harry pulled up to the club.  He had taken another short shower and dressed in a black button up and a matching pair of black skinny jeans. He checked his phone and wallet in his pockets before heading to the door and skipping the line to enter. He saw a few girls smile flirtatiously but he ignored them and spoke to the bouncer.

     "Styles," was all he had to say. The bouncer nodded, stepping aside and letting him through. He heard the girls groan behind him and he sent them a curt smirk and wave, receiving a few wolf whistles in return. Nothing he hadn't experienced before and he honestly didn't care, anyway.  None of them thought of him more than a hot, one night stand and none of them were attractive enough for his time, either. 

     The beat of the music thumped in Harry's ears and bright lights hit his body every now and then as they circled the club from above. He pushed through the dancing bodies around him until he got the bar, immediately finding his friend, Louis, sitting there with a grin on his face and a beer in one hand.

     "Hey Harry! Glad to see you could make it out," the older boy grinned, handing his friend a drink. Harry smiled in thanks before taking a sip of the familiar tasting liquid. 

     Louis was one of the few people who really cared for Harry. He knew what the young boy had gone through and tried his best to be there for him, but Harry shut people out so much, Louis wasn't really sure if Harry could tell he cared at all.  But, he knew Harry thought of him more than just a friend.  They were closer than that and, as much as Harry denied it to himself, he knew Louis was his only real friend as well. 

     Well, sort of. He had others; he just didn't know it yet. 

     "Couldn't miss a night out and possibly a good lay," he replied, a half smile present on his pink lips that made all the girls swoon. He swept his hair to the side with the tip of his thumb as he scanned the club, looking for someone suitable to take home tonight if he felt up to it. Lately, Harry had been feeling a bit down. He was starting to fill it with more women and alcohol than he should have been. Not to mention his constant training. It was practically the only thing that kept his anger under control.