Harry's mom used to tell him that one day his face would get him into trouble. It looked like that day had finally come.
Keeping his eyes down, Harry followed the guard to his cell, feeling uneasy and strange in his new overalls. Like a criminal.
Harry almost laughed at himself. He was a criminal now, after having been sentenced to a year in prison for driving under the influence and injuring another person.
It had been an accident, but no one cared. Well, he did, and Laura-his girlfriend-did, too, and his mom had cried when the sentence was read out.
Harry swallowed, remembering his mom's crushed expression. She had looked so small and old all of a sudden, and it was his fault. She always worried too much about him.
He pushed the thought away, trying to ignore the other prisoners leering as he walked by. They were shouting obscenities that made his stomach twist into knots and bile rise to his throat.
He hoped it wasn't obvious how scared he was. He wasn't exactly skinny and short-he was taller than average, and he had some decent muscles-but he was nowhere near as big as some of those guys. They were built like tanks. Truth be told, Harry was scared shitless, and once again, he wanted to kick himself for getting drunk and ending up in this mess.
When he got out of here, he would never, ever get drunk again- if he got out of here at all. He'd be sharing his cell with someone who was most likely stronger, tougher, and meaner than he was-with a real criminal.
The guard shoved him into the cell. The door closed and locked behind him with a loud and somehow unsympathetic click.
Harry wet his lips, eyeing his cellmate.
The guy was lying on the bottom bunk, his eyes closed, so Harry took the opportunity to study him. He was tall and well-built. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, naturally tanned skin. He looked almost Asian, but not quite. He was probably around twenty-eight, maybe thirty at most.
"You done ogling me?" the guy said, without opening his eyes.
Harry flinched. "Um, yeah. Sorry."
"The top bunk is mine."
Harry wanted to ask why he was lying in his bunk, then, but he had to bite his tongue. Being a smart-ass was probably not a good idea.
"I'm Harry."
The guy opened his eyes. They were Hazel and oddly intense. His gaze swept over Harry before lingering on his mouth.
"Nice to meet you, Harry. How well do you suck dick?"
Harry flushed and stepped back. Shit.
"I'm straight."
The guy lifted his eyebrows, looking vaguely amused. "Everyone's straight here, Green Eyes."
"I have a girlfriend!"
The guy looked unimpressed. "Most of us have wives and girlfriends back home."
He got out of the bunk. A predator. He seemed like a predator. His heart in his throat, Harry took another step back.
But instead of molesting him, the guy stretched his hand out for a handshake.
"I'm Zayn."
Taken aback, Harry shook the hand warily.
"It's probably been a long day for you," Zayn said. "Go to sleep. Nobody wanders around during the night."
"Yeah, okay," he said, immensely relieved.
The guy had probably been just joking when he said that stuff about sucking his dick. Of course he was joking.
