Toxic (Harry Styles)

Chapter 28

I peek through the spaces between bags, and spot two men, one partially covered by the large bag, and the other, with his board back to me, hits repeatedly at the black bag. The man keeps his hands in front of him, defensively, when he's not punching, and bounces on the balls of his bare feet.

I notice that it's Harry when he swings his left arm forward and I catch sight of a few of his tattoos. His curls are held back by a black beanie, and he's wearing a loose white t-shirt and navy blue gym shorts. His hands are covered in bulky gloves, and starts to go at the bag again.

I watch for minute as Harry's back contorts and his shoulder blades poke through the thin material of the shirt. Occasionally, Harry's shirt will ride up, showing off the band of his boxers appear as his shorts hang low on his hips.  

Lucas' head pops around the side of the bag whilst he holds the back of the sack so it will stay in place. It's like he was specifically looking for me, or he felt me standing there, but apparently not since when he saw me, he's hold on the bag loosened, causing Harry's force filled hit to the bag make it swing back and knock into Lucas' chest.

"What the hell man?" Harry stops short of another punch. Lucas doesn't answer, and Harry huffs, following his gaze. Dark green eyes land on me, and shoulders slump. Apprehension washes over his features. "Shit. I forgot you were coming by."

I close in on the distance, and Lucas takes one of the two towels on his shoulder and gives it to Harry. Harry takes it and wipes off the condensation on his forehead, face and neck before pecking me on the cheek.

"It's fine," I reassure, aware that Lucas is watching us intently.

"Harry, why don't you shower," Lucas suggest. Harry furrows his brows at his boss, but the look that Lucas gives him makes Harry nod. Just as Harry passes Lucas, he stops when they're shoulder to shoulder and murmurs lowly, something like "watch her". No doubt I'm her. Lucas nods once and Harry's on his way with one last glance back at me.

The atmosphere changed as Harry walked through a door that said Showers and left me alone with Lucas. I shove my hands into my back pockets, finding my shoes very interesting, but Lucas wasn't having any of it.

"Surely you have some question."

"Yeah," I breathe. "I do."

"You can ask me. I'll be honest," he promises, sitting on the ground, against one of the pillars with his long legs stretched out before him.

"I thought you weren't allowed to tell anyone anything if they didn't work here?"

"Being who I am has its advantages," he grins, showing his front teeth.

I have many, to be honest. And if he's willing to answer them, it may be a better choice than asking Harry. I rack my mind for the right question to ask first. "What's it mean to be branded?"

"Well, in Evan's 'gang'," he air quotes, "he brands all of his members. The number they are when they join. It's burned into their skin on the right of their neck behind the ear. Evan uses a smaller iron cow brander to mark the ones who work for them. It's meant to be the most painful thing you ever go through, so I've heard. He has a sick mind, Evan. He takes in anyone, young teenagers, anyone who can use a gun, really."

Bile rises in my throat, and I have to sit down on the cold floor against the other pillar opposite of Lucas. I'm just now getting it through my head that Harry was right when he said I should stay away from Evan and Thomas.

Thomas.

"Is he dead?" I croak, leaning my head on the cement with shut eyes. I don't even have to look at him to know that Lucas pities me. I don't want pity.