Chemistry [One Direction: Harry Styles Romance]

:Chapter Eight:

                Five shots and one  later, saying Harry was drunk would be an understatement. He was full blown wasted and barely could stand up straight as he pranced around Niall and I, drunkenly trying to hold a conversation with the Irishman. Both of them were drunk out of their minds and were trying to talk to each other while being very emotional.

                Eventually, they both decided to get on the dance floor. Luckily, I haven’t seen Cassidy or anything so I wasn’t worried that she’d slut him up on the dance floor while I wasn’t around to, well… hit her in the face with a volleyball. I laughed at myself, deciding that even though I didn’t really mean to hit her in the face, it was still really funny.

                Suddenly, two arms snaked around my waist as my back was pulled into someone’s chest, their hot breath hitting my ear. “Did you dress up all for me?”

                I shivered – Jasper. “Ew, get off of me. You reek of cigarettes and alcohol.”

                He chuckled, tightening his grip as he kissed my neck. “I don’t want to, babe. Actually, I was just thinking about having some fun…”

                I squirmed in his grasp. “Stop, Jasper! Get off of me.”

                “No.”

                Again, I squirmed violently, but he had a tight – drunken – grip. I made a noise that resembled disgust as I slipped my hand down my side and hit backward as hard as I could, effectively hitting Jasper where the sun don’t shine. But, instead of moving backward or letting me go, his grip tightened and he chuckled.

                His breath hit my ear as I ground my teeth together, annoyed and angry; but not fearful. “Fiesty, eh? I wonder what you’re like in the bedroom.

                “Ew.”

                “Let’s go find out.”

                Before he could, though, a punch was thrown in his face. Finally, his grip slacked as he stumbled backwards and I shivered, taking a step away and watching as he grabbed and rubbed his jaw. Glancing to the side, I saw Harry looking at his fist in slight surprise before looking up at Jasper, straightening up slightly.

                Drunkenly, he slurred, “You keep your hands off of her.”

                I smiled despite the fact Jasper didn’t look pleased – it wavered as he growled, “You want to take this outside, pretty boy?”

                And then there was another punch thrown, and it was right at Harry’s nose. I gasped, eyes wide as he stumbled backwards before falling to the ground, eyes shut tightly in pain. Even I winced.

                “Harry!” I said, then looked up and glared at Jasper.

                What I did next, I wasn’t proud of. I mean, I was playing dirty and using the fighting skills that my best family friend from New York City taught me when I was eleven; he told me that I needed to know how to look out for myself. So, I brought my leg up and kicked him right where it hurts to get kicked and then threw a right hook into the side of his face.

                Just like that, he was bleeding and already bruising as he growled, shuffling backward before he just slipped out of the room. As if remembering Harry was still sprawled on the floor, I looked around and realized nobody was even paying attention to us because we couldn’t have been heard over the music. Quickly, I pulled Harry up as he groaned.