Malignant [h.s]

Forty Two

"Yep." I nod as he releases my wrist. Jeez I don't talk to anyone anyway.

We walk out of the apartment and towards the elevator. I keep my arms crossed over me while he follows shortly behind with nothing but the sounds of our shoes tapping.

The elevator ride is long and silent as Harry leans against the opposite wall as me, staring at his phone.

His one leg crosses over the other while his left arm stays behind his back. The curly locks that sit on his head are nothing but perfectly groomed. I don't even think Harry does anything to his hair to make it look good, he can wake up and simply just run his hand through it. His black lip ring sits nicely on the bottom corner of his mouth, contrasting with his soft pink lips.

Distracting my analyzing thoughts is the elevator opening to the dark Main Street.

Harry and I step out and his arm snakes around my waist, catching me off guard. He can tell that I flinch slightly because he looks down at me when we walk.

"Relax." His low voice brushes against my ear to sooth me.

It's a short walk but ever step makes the music louder to our ears. The last time I was in front of this club there was a shooting, a shooting that targeted Harry.

We walk past the growing line of women against the building, waiting to get it but can't. They all stand there with annoyed looks in their faces, arms crossed and everything. They all watch us walk by the line and right into the building without a second look from the bouncer.

"Why do they have to wait in line but we don't?" I look up at Harry as we walk into the club. It doesn't seem very fair if I'm being honest.

"Because they're just some low life whores." He makes the snide comment into my ear.

"Is every girl to you considered a whore?" I say in slight aggravation.

He chuckles lowly and leans into my ear again while we walk.

"No, you're a prude." He says with a small grin, joking to my expense. I instantly nudge him with my arm and he continues to laugh under his breath. "Relax I'm joking." He ads while squeezing my hip lightly.

I roll my eyes at his lack of comedic joke. I shouldn't be complaining though because anything is better then angry Harry. I should just be happy that he isn't being moody and intimidating.

We walk through the crowded club while woman strip and dance on stage. Besides the howling men gathered around the stage, sweaty people dance to the blaring music- they all look drunk or high but either way look like they are having a good time.

I wish I had the confidence to have fun like them. I wish I can just go wild for one night and not have to worry about the precautions. As we walk through towards the staircase to the VIP section, another hand grabs my opposite wrist, tugging very lightly.

Harry and I both turn around and come face to face with the girl from the tattoo parlour, whom I met what feel like an eternity ago.

"Harry! Amelia!" She yells over the music, dressed in a tight red dress that fits her perfectly. Her straight hair is high up in a tight ponytail and her arms are littered with tattoos.