Cut!

Take 26 - Stand Up - Part 7

A/N: Please comment as you read. It legit makes this story feel more real. 

The rage inside me spread like wildfire. One second, I was trying my best to count backward from ten, in order to control my temper, the next I saw completely red. I turned slowly towards Peyton, and if looks could kill, he’d been vaporized into thin air by now. I placed my napkin on the table and rose from my seat.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear Harry trying to call me back, but I didn’t care.

Peyton hadn’t noticed me yet. He was deep into telling another story about how Ludmilla used to ride him like a stallion. Isabelle—whoever she was—laughed along as if she didn’t realize that her date was basically bragging about screwing another girl.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Peyton,” I said through gritted teeth. He looked up at me with a stupid look on his stupid face.

“Yeah?” he said. “What is it? Oh, you’re tired of Mr. Boring over there.” He scooted his chair back. “Don’t worry.” He patted his lap and winked. “There’s always room for you, babe.”

I clenched my fists, trying hard to remember everything Liam had taught me earlier. Unfortunately, to use much of it, I’d need Peyton to attack me—something I knew he didn’t have the balls to do.

Instead, I lunged for him, grabbing his collar and moving so close to him that I could feel his vile breath on my skin.

“Listen up, Peyton,” I said. “I might have pitied you before when you were literally crying on your knees to take you back, but now?” I laughed a humorless laugh. “You’re dead to me. Don’t talk to me, don’t talk about me, and don’t even dare to think about me. In fact, if you must think about me at all, please try to remember exactly how far up my foot can get into your ass.”

“M-Milla, baby,” he said. “What are you doing? Let me go.”

“I might be more civil than you in most matters, but don’t get me wrong: I can, and I will destroy you ever you ever dare talk about my sister again. Are we clear?” I stared him straight into his vomit-inducing eyes.

The threat came straight from my heart. And while it fit into the current scenario, as well, I wasn’t asking him to never mention me again. I was demanding that he stopped talking shit about Ludmilla.

When he didn’t answer, I repeated my question. “Are. We. Clear?”

Slowly, he nodded, and I let him go. “I’m done here,” I said. “Can we please go?”

Harry stood up and quickly threw a couple of bills on the table. “Sure.”

Instead of letting us go, Isabelle decided to illustrate exactly how few brain cells she had left. “Who do you think you are?” she said and rose from her chair.

I turned around to face her. “I don’t think I’m anyone,” I said. “I know who I am. Do you?” I laughed. “Of course you don’t. If you did, you’d know that you’re far better than that tool there.”

“And you think he’s any better?” she screeched. “Harry Styles will leave you the moment something better comes along.” She narrowed her eyes. “Trust me, it’s what he’s good at.”

I glanced briefly at Harry, who was looking at the floor, waiting for me to go with him. I smiled and turned back to Isabelle. “Guess he’s stuck with me then…” I said. “Because there’s no one better than me.”

With that, I turned on my heels and left them alone, taking Harry’s hand on my way out.

Once outside, he stopped me. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I wanted this to be a perfect and memorable night, and it was completely messed up.” He ran a hand through his dark curls. “I’m so sorry, Cami. I really am.”

“It was memorable,” I muttered. “And it started off as perfect.”

He cringed, looking like he was conflicted on how to feel. “I will make it up—“

I pressed my lips against his, stopping his apology. At first, he tensed up, but it didn’t take long before his arms wrapped around me, and he deepened the kiss.

There was an almost animalist hunger in that kiss, and my own body mirrored it. I didn’t care that we were on a public street, nor that we’d just made a scene in the most prestigious restaurant in the world.

All I cared about was Harry, and the way his lips made the anger inside of me disappear. It whisked away all the thoughts of Ludmilla and the bastard inside of the restaurant.

When we finally broke apart, we were both panting.

“Wow,” he said. “If that’s your reaction to a bad date, I just have to see how you’d react to a good one.”

I laughed at him, and feeling like myself again, I looked away shyly. “So… what’s your plan now?” I asked.

He shrugged. “To be honest, it’s up to you. I thought we’d spend more time in there, so I haven’t exactly planned anything specific.”

I thought about it, my eyes going to the white limousine that was still waiting for us. Holy moly, Harry must have spent a shit-load of money on this date. If it had to end now, it would all have been to waste.

Pointing to the fancy car, I asked, “How long do you have that for?”

He shrugged. “As long as I want.”

I grinned.

“Why?” He narrowed his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s drive around,” I said. “Because of everything that has happened, I didn’t really get a chance to see Milan properly.”

He smiled. “Is that what you want to do? Spend our date in the limo?”

“Not if you don’t want to?” I tried to sound casual, but the truth be told, I really wanted to be in that limo—alone with Harry.

He snorted. “Are you kidding me? Any guy would love to spend an evening in the back of a car with you.” He winked.

I knew what he insinuated, and I tried very hard not to laugh, but I just couldn’t stop it. The joke was undeniably wrong, but I found it funny nevertheless.

I walked into the limousine, enjoying the chilly air in here. The bar was still stocked, and I looked at the bottle of champagne that Harry had left on ice. The green bottle seemed terribly appealing right now, and while I didn’t intend to get drunk, I also knew that alcohol seemed like a valid choice in her situation.

“Do you want some?” Harry asked.

I widened my eyes at him. “What?”

He nodded to the bottle. “You were looking like you were about to make out with it.”

I shrugged. “It has nice curves…”

He laughed. “It’s not the only one.” He reached for it and poured a new glass for both of them.

Raising it, I said, “Here’s to the rest of the evening going better than the last hour.”

“No doubt it will,” he said and drank.

 A/N: Give it a vote, maybe?