Sick and twisted [H.S.]

ch. 3- sir. Zayn

play when you see one (*) or when ever you want, I can't stop you.

Harry's pov

Red and black.

The two colors that can make you rich or in debt way over your head.

It's always the same case for middle-aged white men who watch the news in their underwear with Cheeto puff cheese left on their fingers.

The same phrase too 'it was my last time gambling' or my absolute favorite lie 'I won't do it again'.

Then they get back with their baby mama and go off to the bedroom to make Bill #3.

Or you have the old guy who's loaded with money and has 12 kids, all named Emily and Bob.

Then there's José. He's adopted.

But how would I know it's not like I slept with his wife, and then she paid me for it.

Back to gambling, my pride and joy, other than sex of course.

"Styles" I look up from my cards and see the bet was raised 200 dollars more.

Three of the four men sigh and toss their cards in front of them. "Fold" they mumble in unison.

I look to the last man, other than me, watching his eyes. His left eye twitches and in my peripheral vision I see one of his fingers on his left-hand tap against his cards.

Cheater.

I look past the man and to the door, watching Zayn walk into the room. I subtly motion to the man in front of me, he nods, standing behind him.

I look down at my cards and fumble with them using my fingers. "Take the ace out from your sleeve" I say, breaking the silence, looking at the man across me.

The other men look at him as the man pulls his eyebrows together "sorry, wha-"

"Hand over the card and you get to walk out here with your life." I extend my hand out, knowing he's going to refuse anyways.

He reaches inside his jacket before Zayn's arm comes from behind him, grabbing his wrist.

The man looks to me, "no one steals from me, lies about it, and get's away with it." I lean back in my chair, letting all parts of my back hit the chair.

"So, you can give me the card you stuck up your left sleeve or get all your fingers broken," I say, placing my cards face down on the wood table in front of me.

The three other men let out an 'ouuu' sound. I side-eye them and shoo them out of the room with my fingers.

They jump out of their chairs as Zayn steps to the side so they can get out of the room.

"Stubborn one, aren't you?" Zayn says, joining the conversation. Look around you, tell me what you see" I lean forward in my seat, putting my elbows on the table.

"Um, I-"

"That's enough of that" I mumble "black curtains surround this small room" I point to all the dark-colored curtains around the room. "Do you know what color doesn't show up on black curtains? Red, blood red."

His eyes slightly go wide. "Give me the damn card before I take the card along with your pathetic life" I put my hand out again.

He looks between me and Zayn, he slowly takes his jacket off. "C'mon man, it's not a striptease" I motion for him to hurry up.

"It's not a striptease but I bet you're enjoying it, Harry" Zayn laughs.

"I'll let you know when and who I wanna see give me a striptease." I smirk, nodding towards the man.