Trust Me (A Harry Styles Fan-Fic)

Chapter 18

Bethany's POV

The music is pumping, the strobe lights are flashing and the bass is thumping throughout the club. There are people dancing in one section, others buying drinks in another and then there are the people like me who are sitting at a booth with a few others, chit chatting away.

It was definitely a boys night to say the least. I was the only girl here, so to say I was a tad uncomfortable was a bit of an understatement. We were all sat a table in the back of the club and the only lighting came from the small lamp above us. I was sat on the end of the booth seat, which I didn't know if I should be happy or annoyed about. If you're on the end, you aren't ever really part of the conversation, but I wouldn't want to be in the middle of the booth surrounded by a bunch of men who were drinking. That could end up awkward in many different ways.

I had finally had enough when they started joking around about some new 'positions' that they found lovely to try when I decided to kick Harry in the shin. His head snapped to mine, an apologetic look coming my way. He didn't seem that into it either. If anything, I think he usually was the guy who came to the club with his friends as an excuse to go out and look for his hookup of the night.

"I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?" I ask, but he shakes his head.

"I'm driving."

"Well I'm not, and I need a drink." I let out a small laugh before pushing myself off the booth and begin my walk towards the bar.

Along the way, I politely excuse myself past the grinding dancers, and the heavy drinkers. I feel like everyone at this club is more than slightly intoxicated, making me want to drink until I was in the same shape as them. I was 20, soon to be 21, and the fact that I hadn't gotten drunk in over a year kinda depressed me. I'm not saying that becoming an alcoholic is a dream of mine, but I do want to have fun sometimes, reguardless if alcohol is involved or not.

I got to the bar safely though, so that was good. I recieved stares, but I didn't know if they were because they thought I was attractive or because they recognized my face in the tabloids. Although they were mostly men, I told myself it was the tabloids and not the rediculously tight dress I wore to impress Harry.

It sucked really. I had worn the dress, trying the tiniest bit to get his attention only to be turned down practically every time I even looked his way. Dinner was fine. We had maintained eye contact throughout the entire dinner, nothing ever really becoming awkward. That's why I didn't understand it. I had even "accidnetally" rubbed my foot up along his leg, only for his eyes to practically pop out of his head and look away. It was like I got rejected without even getting rejected.

I placed my order with the bartender and got my martini before handing him my credit card. When he returned it, he gave me a subtle wink, but it didn't go unnoticed by me. Along with my receipt, he wrote down his number on the back. I did my best to casually flick it to the ground before turning around.

But when I did, it was like everything in the room had stopped.

He was staring. He was looking right at me. His bottom lip was pulled tightly between his teeth and his eyes were staring at me with a amused look. He was looking at me with this look full of happiness, this look that he never seemed to have. You could tell when Harry was being fake happy, and when he was really happy, and right now seemed to be one of those happy moments.

It was like only him and I were in the club. No one was getting in between us. The only people that could even attempt to get between us obviously didn't exist. No one seemed to move his eyes from me, and for that I was eternally greatful. I had his attention for the first time tonight, and for some reason, I started to feel slightly nervous.