Far

eighteen

He laughs as I let go of his hand and move to stand in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I come here a lot, Zayn's dad is the owner, so a lot of the frat guys come down here," he explains.

I nod my head and rock back and forth onto my tippy toes.

"How was your date?"

"It was good until he left because someone didn't keep their hands to themselves."

He shrugs, "I can't help it, you're wearing a dress that shows off your body."

"Harry, that doesn't mean you can touch me, especially when I'm on a date," I cross my arms.

He points his index finger at me, "You didn't remove my hand until he left."

I open my mouth to speak, and then shut it when I realise he was right. I stood there the whole time while Harry had his hand around my waist and not once did I tell him to remove it. Not once did I step away and move towards Colton. I feel so stupid, and rude. No wonder why Colton looked hurt, it was like I was on the date with Harry and not him.

"I feel bad," I sigh.

"Why?" he frowns.

"Because, I didn't move away from you. I was on a date with Colton and I didn't move your hand."

He mumbles something but I can't hear him over the loud music playing.

"I can't hear you, what did you say?" I ask.

He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the back, away from the music.

"I said, maybe you wanted me to hold you," he tells me when we get to the back wall.

It's darker over here because all the lights are facing away from us.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't move my hand, maybe because you liked my hand being there, you liked the fact that I was holding you."

"You don't know that," I laugh.

"Okay. Then let me ask you this... what would you of done if Colton did that?"

I don't respond for a few seconds, "I don't know. I might've told him I was nervous."

"Were you nervous when I did it?" he steps closer to me.

I don't say anything.

"Answer me, Ariana." he says, putting both of his hands on the sides of my hips.

I still don't say anything and I can feel my heart rate increase by the second. I don't feel nervous when he does this, and I know that he knows that. He just wants me to admit it aloud.

"Tell me, are you nervous when I put my hands here?" he asks.

I shake my head.

He pulls me closer, one hand slipping up higher to hold me better, "Ari, baby, I want to hear you say it."

"It doesn't make me nervous," I look at his eyes.

The usual bright green has now darkened, and his pupils are dilating.

His face moves closer to mine, "Do I make you nervous?"

I shake my head.

He squeezes my hips, "Use your words."

"You don't make me nervous."

He looks at my lips, and he takes a finger and traces it.