espionage [h.s.]

THREE

I take a step forward to push past him and walk into the gym, but I'm suddenly stopped when I feel Harry's hand wrap around my arm tightly. His fingernails dig into the flesh of my arm but I don't dare react, not even wincing as I stare up at him defiantly, narrowing my eyes angrily. "You've met Anton?" he practically seethes, tightening his grip on my arm.

"Yes, I met him earlier. Nice bloke, we had a good chat," I say, my smile widening when I notice Harry's expression grows even more confused and agitated. I hold his gaze for a few more seconds before I roughly yank my arm out of his grip, clearly surprising him when I shove him away from me. "Now, if you don't mind, you're making me even later."

Before he has the chance to reply or grab me again, I quickly spin around and stroll into the gym without a glance back. A few eyes swivel over to me as I walk in, their gazes scanning over me curiously as they try to figure out who I am. I don't mind though, kind of used to it by now. I keep walking until I feel the firm mat under my feet, now stood on the edge of it. My eyes flicker over all the people in the room, most of them having turned away by now, and the ones still staring at me soon look away once I shoot them a glare.

"Wow, you look scary," an amused voice suddenly says from behind me, causing me to spin around. My eyes land on a blonde boy with baby blue eyes, a large grin on his face as he extends his hand to me. "Hey, I'm Niall."

I feel my lips arch upwards, reaching out to place my hand in his. "Rochelle," I introduce myself.

"It's nice to meet you," he replies once we both pull our hands away, letting them settle back down to our sides.

"You know, you're the first person who's said that to me since I got here."

"I'm not surprised, people here are assholes," he tells me with a shake of his head, making me laugh softly. "So, want me to give you 411?"

"The what?" I splutter in amusement.

"The info, the low down," he tells me with a hand gesture that I think is supposed to signify that of a gangster, but he looks so innocent doing it that it just makes me laugh again.

"Sure," I say with a nod. "You can give me the 411."

"Great. All of the people here on the mat are trainees, some of us are friends, some not. One of my friends is Zayn over there, the unfairly attractive one with the perfectly quiffed hair who practically oozes charm. Don't get caught up in his web, he's a natural born flirt," Niall says, shooting me a warning glare which makes my smile widen. "My other friend over there is Liam, the one with the buzzcut that I personally think looks stupid, but it gets him girls so I guess I can't say anything."

"Aw, are you telling me your baby blue eyes don't get you girls?" I ask him with a playful pout.

"No, they don't, and I think that's so rude," he says with an annoyed huff, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, I'm sure the girls on the outside world would be falling at your feet." I tap his shoulder reassuringly.

"Thank you, I agree," he says quickly before turning back to his introductions, pointing at another brunette man stood at the front of the gym, his blue eyes surveying the room. "That's Louis, he's one of the trainers. He's best mates with Harry, the other trainer. He's a bit of a dick and moody all the time, so we've nicknamed him Hostile Harry - oh look, here he comes now!"