Ruby ღ

I'm not a bitch,
I'm not a slut,
I'm not a whore,
And I sure as hell ain't yours.
So go ahead and do yourself a favour:
Don't believe the rumours you hear about me.

Survival 101 - You're as good as dead if you try to get into my pants.

(Sequel to 'Red ♥')
Many thanks to: J.K Pansear (Kammy), kelsea (Briella), Musical Megster (Megan) - Love you all guys, thank you ♥ xoxo ~Patch


26. Epilogue - Last Chapter

A.N: Okay, okay. LAST CHAPTER! I'm honestly holding back tears. But I can't wait to get started on the third and final book of the series - Raven! :D Give it a read. I'll publish the first chapter soon. Maybe tomorrow. Thanks so much for reading. By the way, Ruby says 'hi' to all you little clovers ;) xoxo Much love, Patch.







"Harry, get dressed. We're going to a live performance at the pub. Y'know? The one down the road?"

I nodded before yawning and stretching my arms above my head. Then I received a bundle of clothing to the face.

"Thanks, Zayn." My voice was muffled by the jeans and green t-shirt but Zayn still heard me.

"You're very welcome. Now I expect your arse to be downstairs and you to be ready by the time I finish talking with Red. On my phone, she's not here. Unfortunately."

And with that awkward conversation over, Zayn meandered out my room and I dressed myself, running my fingers through my curls a couple of times so my hair looked okay. Scars lined under my eyes, barely noticeable. I had asked the boys where they came from, but they had told me nothing. It was annoying, not know why they were there.  

After putting my mobile in the back pocket of my jeans, I took a pair of socks out my top drawer and sat on my bed to put them on.

On my ankle, in curly black writing was the word 'Ruby'. I ignored it, Niall said it was an alcohol-induced moment and I had a one-night-stand called Ruby once. After that, I didn't ask again.

"I'm ready." I said, standing on the bottom step of the stairs. It was 8 o' clock and all five of us had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, ready to get going to watch a live performance, get pissed, and maybe take a girl or two back home. Sounded great to me.

"All of us here?"

Five voices chorused, "Yes." and we set off in my car, silence for the entire journey.



When we arrived, the whole pub was flooded with people; drinking, dancing, kissing and grinding up against each other. This should be fun.

Niall ordered one for each of us and two for himself. I don't blame him, we were playing at a concert late last night, and the lack of sleep was getting to all of us.

We clinked our pints and said 'cheers' simultaneously before gulping down our beers and ordering another round. Louis had managed to pick a booth close to the front of the stage, where we could get a good eyeful of the performer.

We all laughed when we noticed Niall, his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers crossed, whispering/chanting: "Please be a pole dancer, please be a pole dancer!"

Zayn patted him on the back, shaking his head and smiling.

"I feel you, bro. It must be horrible having no girlfriend and waiting for a bunch of hot girls to straddle you while you drool at their bodies. I'm sure we all feel well and truly sympathetic towards you."

That drew a laugh from all the boys except me. I didn't have a girlfriend and I was perfectly okay with that. Because that meant not being tied down. That meant guilt-free sex.

"Hey, don't I get any sympathy?" I asked, throwing my hands up as a mock-dramatic gesture. Louis grinned.

"Harry, has anybody ever told you you're the horniest guy alive?"

"No, nobody but you, my dear Lou." I said, laughing at my own fake accent.

"The act's about to perform." Niall pointed out. He looked about, eager to get laid. I could empathize with him about that.

"Ladies and gents, welcome to the stage, The Fallen!"

After the announcement, a band began came out of the wings back stage and took their places. Then the lead singer stepped into the light and flashed a wicked smile at the audience. If I could get to see her after the show, I'd seduce her quickly enough to get laid before morning.

"Hey, assholes." she spoke into the mic, her voice husky and sexy. The voice of a light smoker.

The crowd cheered, despite the insult, and a few wolf-whistles were thrown out. The girl guffawed and rolled her eyes.

"Save it for the whores." she said, winking. Another cheer.

Niall groaned in disappointment.

"No pole dancers!" he whined. We all laughed. Everything went quiet when the music began to play. First, a gentle haunting melody, and then the beat slipped in, raw and real and amazing. Then she began to sing.

"You took my heart and crushed my soul,

The breath inside me has left me cold.

I watched your eyes look into mine,

I felt the shiver down the edge of my spine.

But you weren't there, you never were,

I hate to say it but that's not fair.

And yet, here you are again,

My broken heart is what you must mend."

The song continued and the crowd seemed to go wild when the song ended. Then the last song was played, and the lyrics triggered something inside my head. When I looked up, the singer was staring straight at me. Something made this song better than the others. Was it the raw untouched emotions that she sung it with? Was it the realism behind the words? Was it the fact that she might as well be singing to me and me only?

"I watched you walk away. . . you were so mean. Calling me names. . . The devil in jeans."

A tear slipped down her face and the crowd had their arms waving in the air, the song soft and sweet and gentle.

"Guys, I need some air."

"No, you don't. Sit down, Styles. Keep listening." Niall said, grabbing the back of my collar and sitting me back down.

I felt nauseous, to say the least.

When the band had finished the song, they left the stage. But the singer stayed, clutching the microphone.

"We've come so far, and we just want to thank you for the honour of playing here tonight. It's been great to see some new faces." She looked at me when she said the next part. "And some old ones, too."

I felt my stomach lurch.

"That last song is dedicated to a certain someone in the audience tonight. On our album, there's a song that might give you a clue as to who he is. The song's called 'The Boy Who Forgot'. Too easy? Maybe. Thank you, and goodnight."

The last part sent the crowd stirring, craning their necks, expecting a boy with a punk-styled outfit to walk on stage and reunite with this girl. But nothing happened.

I grabbed my stuff, downed the rest of my second beer and then made my way to the front entrance of the pub, saying goodbye to the boys. I didn't feel too good.

A hand on my shoulder.

"Hey. Um, thanks for coming tonight."

I turned to see Singer Girl smiling at me.

"It's alright. You were great. How long have you been signing for?" I was attempting to sound polite, but it came out rushed and slightly rude. If Singer Girl minded, she didn't let it show.

"I haven't. I used to sing, a lot. But I stopped for a while. Then I started up again because somebody inspired me. I met up with a guy called Phoenix, a tattoo artist called Tommy and my best friend Kayleb."

The name struck a chord.

"Sounds familiar." I noted.

Singer Girl rolled her eyes.

"I doubt you would've met him. Anyway, I gotta go. Busy night, y'know. See you around, Curly."

And with that, she turned to go. But I couldn't let her leave. Not yet.

I turned her around and kissed her fiercely, lips hot against hers, tongues swirling. When we broke apart, I saw her eyes sparkle with delight and I shook my head. It hurt, but it was all there somehow.










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