Lethal (Harry Styles)

chapter 7

"The Wolf of Wall Street," she said. After a few seconds of silence she added, "George told me it's with Leonardo DiCaprio... and about 3 hou-"

I quickly interrupted her. "WHAT? You gotta be kidding! I have to watch him again... for 3 hours?"

Theresa's cheeks turned a bit red but not enough to make her totally uncomfortable. "Don't look at me like that. It was your sister's idea," she defended herself.

I eyed her for a few moments before I let it drop. It surely couldn't be as bad as the last time I was forced to sit in a dark room for 3 hours straight – next to a certain green-eyed boy...

"I quickly gonna get a few donuts and sneak them in. Want some?" I asked out of nowhere.

Theresa looked slightly confused. "Uhh... No, thanks. But buy some nevertheless."

I suppressed a laugh. She was nervous. "Tess, it's gonna be alright." Me using her nickname was unheard of and it seemed to confuse her even more. She didn't bother to answer and left me standing in front of a hairdresser's saloon.

I checked the time before I went to Dunkin' Donuts. The double D greeted me after a minute. I smiled to myself but gasped the moment I entered. There was a long line. Long as in "it will take you more than two minutes to get your donuts". Instead of turning around and leaving for the cinema, I decided to stand in line and patiently wait.

It didn't take as long as I thought it would and I left with 24 delicious donuts.

"Finally," Phoebe greeted me in an annoyed voice in front of the cinema. "The others already went inside, the film started a minute ago." She handed me my ticket, glaring at me the whole time.

"Relax, sis. The commercials will still be on," I reminded her and made my way inside. I looked at the tickets and remember my seat so I could easily find it in the dark. Luckily, the little signs with the numbers at the beginning of each row glowed in the dark.

I quickly checked the row I was aiming at. Phoebe went past me and sad down next to, what I supposed had to be, Adrian. Besides her was, according to her height, a girl. I squinted. Theresa. Next to her was Niall and next to him was a tall man. I couldn't make much out of him in the dark but his hair seemed to be slightly messy. Boys either had messy hair or it was gelled to perfection.

My eyes flickered to the empty spot next to the boy. I guessed that was mine then. I quietly made my way over to the seat.

"Hi, I'm Zoey," I half-whispered, plumping down.

"I know," a hoarse voice answered.

I jolted upright. "This is not possible," I mumbled to myself. Was this some kind of Déjà-vu?

"I know! 3 hours with Leonardo DiCaprio, doesn't that sound familiar?" Harry asked. His tone hinted that he was joking.

I couldn't muster a smile. "Well, I brought donuts and I'm not gonna be a bitch and keep them all to myself. Go take some." My eyes flickered to his hand which offered his bag of popcorn. "But I tell you, I don't want any of your popcorn." I thought about my words for a moment. "Thank you though," I added, not wanting to seem rude.

"That's alright. And thanks for the donuts. You can take popcorn any time you want," he said. His green eyes were captivating, even in the dark.

Were we really just having a conversation about donuts and popcorn?

I opened my mouth to say something else but someone in the row behind us told us to be quiet.

The film started but I didn't even pretend to pay attention. I lost interest the moment I heard it was 3 hours I had to suffer through. What's the point of long movies?

I glanced around. The theater was stuffed.

My thoughts went back to my conversation with Adrian. He hadn't said who this 'date' was and neither had he hinted at anything. He should have. I would have a nice little talk with him and Phoebe afterwards. This screamed revenge.

I was planning to lock them in the basement and turn the light off which you can only do upstairs when I casually grabbed the bag of popcorn. It was a habit; you sit in a cinema and you grab the popcorn. One important thing slipped from my mind: it was Harry's bag.

Being my lucky self, Harry reached for the bag at the same time I grabbed it. His hot hands touched my rather cold ones and a wave of electricity raced through me. Out of shock, I dropped the popcorn.

"Shit," I cursed, a bit too loudly. "I- I'm gonna get you a new one," I offered – or rather stated. I didn't even wait for Harry's answer but grabbed my purse and made my way to the popcorn line outside the hall.

I haven't gotten far when a massive – and unwanted familiar – hot hand grabbed my wrist.

"Wait," Harry stopped me. "I don't want any more."

"It's okay, Harry. I dropped it so I'm gonna get you a new bag," I slowly said.

"No, really. Don't worry, I'm fine," his eyes flickered around. "I'm gonna get something to drink though. Want anything?" he asked.

A voice in my head told me that this was just an excuse. I left him standing there but made my way over to the drinks. And again, Harry stopped me. "I'll pay," he sternly told me. I shrugged my shoulders.

I had to admit, it was kind of sweet. But I was not that easily fooled.

"Go get your coke then, I'm gonna get back inside. There's like a total of two hours left and I wouldn't wanna miss it," I sarcastically remarked.

Harry laughed. I stared at his Adam's apple as it popped up and down with his soft laugh. "What about we ditch the rest of the movie and have a nice dinner instead?" he asked out of nowhere.

I considered it for a moment. It didn't sound too bad and after dinner I could catch up with the rest of the gang, drive Theresa home and give Phoebe a long talk. A sisterly and very nice talk. Where I'd gonna beat her cute little butt.

"Sounds okay," I said, adding a little smile so he wouldn't feel left out.

"Great, I know a nice place," Harry replied. He took my right hand in his left hand and tugged me towards his car. He opened the door for me and shut it behind me before he got inside himself.

"We have two hours to kill," he bluntly said, adding a little wink that made me think that I should have insisted on going back to the group date...

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