Spilled Drinks

**SEQUEL TO 'THAT BRUNETTE AND ME' SO IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT YET, GO READ IT NOW!**
Then I decided to see what people said about his personality. I guess that he's covered in tattoos, which I guess makes him some type of womanizer, according to the magazines I searched online. I glanced at him now, searching his face for any hardness or bitterness. I did find some, which frightened me. Who knows how violent he got when he didn't get what he wanted.

I definitely didn't want to see that side of him."

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4. Chapter Four

"You like it?"

Fuck.

***

"Um, I suppose it'll suffice." I said bitchily, swiveling around to face him, the boy I'd been dreading to see for hours. Harry Styles. My skirt suddenly felt itchy and uncomfortable as he looked at me, his face blank and unreadable. I felt like I needed to pull up my blouse and pull down my skater skirt as he smirked questionably at me.

"So it'll just 'do', then?" He asked, shuffling a bit closer. I shrugged, turning away. He still gave me the serious creeps. Something just wasn't right with that boy. His eyes were too wandering, and his actions were almost forced, like he enjoyed to see me cringe and fret around.

"Aren't you going to change into that dress, babe?" He said, stepping closer to me. Shivers crawled up and down my spine as his hot breath was cascaded down my face. I clenched my jaw and stuck my nose in the air as I stepped back.

"Don't you fucking call me babe, understood?" I snapped, not letting him answer as I stomped into my bedroom. I heard a loud laugh as I slammed my door shut and made sure to lock it. I even checked it by turning the knob, just in case.

I opened the black wrapping paper up to reveal a white box with a store label: Barney's Co-Op.

Holy shit. It's a fucking designer dress. I opened the box, revealing the navy blue cocktail dress with a dipped neckline down the front. I slipped it on, almost disgusted by the extreme tightness and low cut front. Who even bought this for me?

As if I were speaking aloud, Harry answered my question. "Do you like the dress I got for you?"

I rolled my eyes and opened the door. I then spoke snootily to his smug face. "Do you think of me as a slut?" I stared him down intensely as his eyes widened, then softened.

"I'd never think of you as that."

I froze, my hand halfway between my body and his, as I was on my way to push him out of the way. I dropped my hand, looking to the side to the window. "We should go."

Harry just nodded, letting me through. I stepped out the door, my short heels barely making a sound. I let Harry pass me as we walked down the hall, and let me tell you, even though the guy was a bit frightening to me, boy was he fit! His dress pants were perfectly tailored so they showed off his impressively long legs, and his beanie-tee shirt ensemble from before was completely blown away by his gray jacket and white button up beneath it.

"You clean up nicely." I muttered as he pushed the elevator button. I immediately felt a rush of embarrassment rush through me. Why the fuck did I say that aloud? Harry just smirked, letting me into the elevator, but not before resting his hand slightly above my butt.

"No, no." I said hurriedly, slipping away to the opposite corner than him. That left Harry standing, smiling some weird half-smile that left me wondering if I liked it or not. Then there was me, standing stick-straight with my hands clenched over my purse straps. Then there was the awkward elevator man who glanced warily from Harry to me. I glanced at his nametag, reading the name. Casmir Philips.

"Hi there," I said, sticking my hand out to the man, who seemed panicked by my attempt to be polite. "My name's Heather."

"Uh-" he cleared his throat, grabbing my hand and shaking it quickly. "Casmir."

"I see," I said, pointing at his nametag. He seemed sheepish as he looked at it and remembered that it was hanging on his vest pocket. I smiled, remembering I was in the exact same situation with Nate.

I was elated that Nate hadn't happened to be on this elevator, or he would've seen the contact between Harry and I, which was the exact opposite than what I wanted. Speaking of Harry, he was now staring down Casmir, who shifted uncomfortably closer to me. I glared at Harry, who only shrugged and turned moodily to the now opening doors.

"Have a nice rest of the evening, Casmir." I said, grinning at the elevator man. He nodded, calling after me as well.

"You as well, Miss Heather!"

I followed Harry out the lobby, speed-walking to the extent as his long legs propelled him forward at an alarming rate. I tried my best not to trip on my heels as I stepped out the revolving door and out into the cooler New York City evening air. Honks of cars filled my ears as I stopped outside the door, practically running into a suddenly stationary Harry Styles.

"What are you waiting for?" I called out to him, stepping to his side. Without giving me an answer, he gripped my wrist tightly and hauled me quickly into a black SUV. How entirely cliché, going into a black SUV with some unknown celebrity. Wait, that only happened to me, now didn't it? That wasn't very reassuring.

"There we go," He said, pleased with himself. "We're ready to go, Samson."

The driver nodded, tipping his hat politely. The car veered into the road, weaving in and out of traffic. I had an awful feeling like I was going to die. I gripped the seats with all my might as the car turned left and right, before screeching to a halt next to a fancy looking building with the name 'Jean Georges' inscribed onto the front. I sighed with relief as the car turned off, and stopped my little party of surviving when I heard laughing from beside me.

"What's so fucking funny, Mr. Styles?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my close-to-exposed chest. I could still feel a slight breeze flowing over my bare skin as he pouted out his lip.

"Wooks wike someone's a wittle afwaid of fast cars, now aren't we?" He said in a babying voice, then proceeded to mock my terrified face. I smacked his arm before yanking the door open and stomping out of the car.

"Do you want this to work out or not, dickhead?" I shouted, pointing at the door. "Either you get out of the car and stop mocking me, or you stay in there and this is not going to happen. No dinner, and no us. Got it?"

He raised his eyebrows, then stepped out of the car, his freakishly long legs extending out of the car as he stood up next to me and hooked his arm around my elbow. "Shall we, then?"

Damn it, I was hoping he'd stay in the car.

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