Just a Roommate (H.S)

Chapter 36

"Aria, can I talk to you?" Harry asks me calmly, but it sounds more like a demand.

I stare at him. I wasn't expecting such tranquility. I was expecting him to shout, or to scream, or to literally pick me up and drag me like a rag doll out of the room. I expected him to hit Zayn, to humiliate me in front of everyone. 

Instead, he stands tall a few feet away from me; his features sharp, but calm.

"Aria," he repeats after a few seconds. "Please."

I blink at him, not knowing if I should go with him or not.

I feel Zayn tense up next to me as Harry steps over closer to us. I am grateful the music is so loud and that the living room was much more crowded than usual. It felt like less eyes were on us than last time. 

"Okay," I murmur finally. Harry's posture relaxes at my words.

I feel Zayn's hand on my forearm as I stand. I gaze over at his intoxicated eyes. "You sure?"

I nod and give him a subtle smile. "Yes. I need to talk to him."

"Let me know if you need me," he tells me quietly. 

"She won't," Harry snaps, a bit more agitated than calm this time. 

He then grabs my hand and interlocks it with his. I watch as Bri's brown eyes squint in anger as he guides me out of the living room. I glimpse at Zayn one last time before he is out of my view.

I didn't notice so many people pile into the fraternity house. Harry and I could barely move past people as he took me up stairs. Even the staircase and second floor was packed with people in ridiculous costumes. Harry starts to turn each knob on the second floor, but each appeared to be occupied or locked.

"Fuck," he mumbles, growing irritated as he runs one hand through his thick hair.

"Why are you here, Harry?" I finally ask him.

He peers back at me. "Aria, I tried calling you like twenty fucking times. Why haven't you answered me?"

I shrug. "I forgot my phone at Kate's."

"I was wondering who got you into that slutty dress. Makes sense now."

I then remember that my hand is intertwined with his and I quickly jerk my hand away, escaping his grip. "It's not slutty. It's just a dress."

"The tiniest dress I've ever seen," he retorts. 

"I highly doubt that," I wager.

Before he argues back, he stops and studies my face. His hands then cup my face, tilting me down as he peers into my eyes. "Are you fucking stoned?"

"Are you some sort of cop now?" I snap my head away from his grip, crossing my arms. "It's none of your business if I am or not."

"Who the hell gave you weed?"

"Again. None of your business," I retaliate. 

"I cannot believe that I was worried out of my god damn mind looking for you and here you are dressed like a fucking whore, smoking pot with a bunch of junkies." His voice has grown louder. "What has gotten into you?" 

"Stop acting like you own me," I scoff, my face hot. "You're not my boyfriend, Harry!"

He chuckles. "If I wanted to, I could be. You and I both know that I already basically am."

I press my lips together before deciding that I do not want to talk to him anymore. Without another thought, I turn around and walk towards the steps to go back downstairs.