Chapter 91.

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"I had some drinks and said some things to you

I think too much, I'm outta touch, it's true
Don't give a fuck, yeah actually I do
If I said too much, I know you're mine to lose
Don't give a fuck, yeah actually I do"

***

Harry is just barging through the crowd with his arm firmly around my waist, looking like he's about to knock anyone out that even remotely breathes the wrong way in his direction, and I'm just being pulled along like  bloody luggage.

The deep red lighting that's illuminating the room is only making him look more menacing;  but to be honest, right now you could dress him up in a teddy bear costume and he would still look like he's about to rip someone's throat out.

I understand that he's angry, but this level of anger is explosive and something that seems like an over reaction to the situation; I'm still trying to figure out if the anger is just about the man that spoke to me or over Stacey, a combination of the two or something I've unknowingly done.

He escorted me up that same corridor, pushing that familiar bathroom door open with a blunt forceful shove and the woman the was fixing her makeup in the mirror, snapped her bewildered intoxicated eyes to us, jumping at the door flying open so abruptly and Harry bellowed a hiss through his teeth, ordering her to 'get the fuck out'.

You know, a please never hurt anyone Harry.

The woman scurried out of the bathroom, sending me a worried look and it was that moment I realised how bad this must have looked and that she was assuming Harry was forcing me in here, we were fighting or maybe he was going to hurt me.

That doesn't sit well with me, that, that's the impression his behaviour gives off when I know he wouldn't ever hurt me but I don't think he realises that's how it looks to people.

I don't think he realises much of anything at this very second.

The door slams shut behind the woman rushing out, and Harry pulls away from me to turn and lock it; I can basically see the tension rippling off of him from how rigid the muscles are in his back, tight and taught under the thin material of his white shirt.

I jump in shock, when Harry slams his palm against the door after he's locked it, shouting an explosive "Fuck!" and my brows pull together in worry.

"Harry..." I say trying to keep my voice calm, taking a step towards him "Just try and settle down, talk to me please"

Harry tenses, then turns and stalks towards me; making me take several steps back at how quick and abrupt his movements were.

"What did he say to you? That guy that fucking touched you? What did he say?" he snaps, his anger travelling up his throat and wrapping around his tone to make his demanding questions echo around the room and bounce around the walls like shards of glass.

I reach out to grasp Harrys shirt over his stomach, clinging my hands to it trying to get him to focus on me and simmer down from how rage driven he is and talk some sense to him.

"He didn't hurt me Harry, I told him I had a boyfriend and it ended there - there's no need to be so furious about this, just try to calm down for a second" I urge him, but it's like my words are going in one ear and out the other.

"I don't care, he was practically fucking you with his eyes. I should know, I do it all the time. What. Did. He. Say?" he grits, ignoring everything I just said.

I press my lips together in a flat line, knowing he isn't going to budge on this until I tell him, but I know telling him will only make him more furious so I'm kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place here.

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