It's An Angry Man

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Taylor's P.O.V

"So it's your cousins wife, who's ex boyfriend attacked you?!" I was interestedly staring at the long scar implanted on his collar bone. He nodded sadly, clicking his mouth using his tongue.

"That's right princess. He leapt at me after I defended my cousin, he'd been calling him a terrible husband, a scumbag and other awful names like that. I'd had enough, so I just had a quiet word with him, turning into a brawl," he frowned, shaking his head.

I have to admit, that was very brave of him to stand up for his cousin. Especially against an armed man.

"Have you got any scars?" He asked.

"Only mental scars," I mumbled, a little to loud.

"Why, what do you mean?" He raised an eyebrow, frowning. Now I have to explain.

"Ugh it's nothing really," I waved my hand around, "just this dick called Harry,"

"Wait Harry who?" He stopped me mid sentence, his face going a little pale. There's something going on here, he was okay before but now he seems a little weary, surprised in a way.

"Harry the dick, that's his name. He told me he had feelings for me then completely blew me off. I got mad so I left, to take a break; then I got here, somehow."

He smirked, still looking a little bit nauseous.

"Do you want a drink or anything? I kno-" we were interrupted by a blonde Irish man, smiling a flawlessly white smile.

"Alright mate? Oh, hi there blondie, how's it going?" He pulled me into a flirtatious hug, his hand brushing over my lower back. Who does he think he's calling blondie?

"I'm great thank you, what's your name?" I asked the lad, who had taken a spot between me and 'the guy.'

"Niall Horan, Irish if you can't tell already haha, what's your name?"

"Taylor Swift, American living in Cheshire."

"Noice!" He replied, slipping the last of his cocktail from the abstract glass in his hands.

"Excuse me?" I didn't understand what he was saying, the thick Irish accent had covered whatever it was extremely well.

"I said noice. Oh shit you're not English are you," he shook his head.

"Niall, she's not Irish, none of us are," the guy interrupted him, making us both laugh.

"I meant nice," he pronounced the word in a more English accent this time. I laughed.

"Noice accent!" I teased him, his cheeks going pink, contrasting against his pale face.

"Ha ha," he sarcastically laughed, "whatever Taylor, I'll see you later," he waved goodbye, walking backwards into the mists of the crowded club.

"Hey I'm just going to the bathroom, keep an eye on my phone please!" I pointed at the iPhone sat on the table. He nodded, waving me off.

Harry's P.O.V

I paced up and down the living room, just as I had been doing the entire day. Pick up the fucking phone Taylor, I'm begging you.

I had to use the damn house phone, because I'd smashed my phone against the wall after she'd left. This could be a problem, she won't know who is calling now because my name tag won't come up on the screen, just my number.

I heard a click through the line, I exhaled deeply.

"Taylor, I'm sor-"

"Who is this?" I heard a deep voice through the phone, my blood turned cold.

"Who's this on Taylor's phone? Put her on the line please," I growled, I knew exactly who it was, I just needed to make sure before I become completely pissed off.

"I'm her friend Zayn Malik, she's just in the bathroom at the moment so I'll tell her you called," I need to know where she is.

"Where is she, please tell me Zayn," I pleaded, I need to see her.

"Can you tell me who you are first please?" He growled, I knew he was getting angry through the phone line.

"Harry,"

"Oh my god, Harry Styles. It- it's actually you," he stuttered, he obviously remembers what happened those years ago.

"Yes, now tell me where the hell she is otherwise something bad will happen - again," I threatened him, although I really didn't mean it - my past was bad, but not my present.

"London, were in London,"

"See you soon Zayn," I smirked as I ended the call.

Time to pack my bags.

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Written by- Cat(≧≦)

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