Shot Down

My life was pretty fucking normal -- well, in retrospect anyway -- but that was beside the point. I had my life and everyday went by smoothly, routinely and virtually undisturbed, that was however, until Harry Styles decided to forcefully make his way into it and turn everything to utter shit -- and bliss.


2. No Smoking

It was nearly closing time and the place was only now dying down, the crowd of business people had dispersed and instead came in our evening regulars. It wasn’t unusual for the place to be packed, in fact, it was the norm. Never was there a moment for us to just chill, we’d struggle to fine the time to even clean up and stock.

But now was the time when things were coming to a halt; everyone had left, except Louis, the bosses son -- Liam, and myself. Liam had resumed picking up a mess that some teenagers had purposefully made and Lou was perched on the stool behind the counter, chatting with a customer about something that held little to no interest to me.

I tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear as I busied myself with cleaning some unknown sticky substance on the counter. The sound of the bell was deaf to me now, having heard it nonstop for hours today. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a hooded figure walk towards the back, my eyes followed the body as it turned into -- not the bathroom -- but our supply closet. My brows knitted together in confusion, standing up straight I looked towards Lou to see if he noticed the intrusion.

Instead he was taking money from two other people who wore the same hooded jacket as the guy who had vanished into our supply closet. I looked over at the two boys, noting that they -- besides being abnormally attractive -- seemed kind of suspicious.  As they grabbed their order from Lou I expected them to retreat towards the back where there friend was, but instead they took a seat at a table in the corner, dropping their hoods and talking quietly together.

I stopped rubbing at the substance and headed towards the back, looking for the intruder. I slowly opened the door to reveal a curly headed boy sitting on one of the boxes, about ready to light himself a joint. Oh, no. Not while I’m on clock -- not today, buddy. “Excuse me.” I snapped at the boy who had ignored my presence altogether until now. He looked up at me from his lashes, the joint dangling between his lips and the lighter just near the tip. “You can’t smoke in here.”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he lit the joint, eyeing me with amusement. He slid the lighter back into his pocket, the other hand pulling the joint from his lips after inhaling the toxins.  “You can’t smoke in here.” I repeated again, this time more slowly trying to make my point clear.

He stood up, towering over me -- that stupid smirk still plastered on his stupid lips. His eyes glistened as he looked me up and down before meeting my eyes again. Just as I was about to say something he blew the smoke into my face, causing my face to scrunch.

Waving the smoke out of my face, the boy chuckled bringing the joint to his lips again; but not fast enough for my hand which slapped the bud out of his hand and dropped the thing to the ground where I purposefully stomped on it. “What the fuck?” He hissed, the playfulness his eyes held moments ago had disappeared and instead was replaced by displeasure.

I however, was not phased. “I told you -- no smoking.” I crossed my arms over my chest, if he wanted to fight than so be it. “Who do you think you are anyway? Coming in here, smoking pot; what, you can’t do that outside?” I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

He just looked at me, not saying anything and in that time I took it upon myself to actually look at the jackass who stood before me and damn, was he good looking. Clearly he caught me checking him out because his expression changed again and the slight smirk was back. “Hmm, like what you see, babe?” He asked licking his lips, ignoring my question from before.

I scoffed, turning my attention anywhere but those plump lips of his. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or who you think you are coming in here and smoking a joint -- but you need to either buy something, or get out.” I said simply not in the mood to play games, spinning on my heel to head out, but just as I did so his hand grabbed on to my arm and spun me back around pulling me toward him.

He was closer now, and his eyes turned a darker shade and for the fourth time that day, his expression changed. “I don’t know who you are or who you think you are, love.” He mimicked, his tongue poking out of his mouth, wetting his pink lips as he rolled his lips together -- and god dammit, Bandit stop staring. “But I don’t like being told what to do, and I certainly don’t like people putting good kush to waste.” He glared down at me, his grip on my arm tight.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit scared, after all the action caught me by surprised and in the space of ten minutes I found myself in the grip of some stranger who one moment looked like an angel from above and the next looked rather intimidating -- still an angel though, an intimidating angel. However, I stood my ground and jerked my arm out of his hand. Wanting to get out of the small confines of the closet I went for the door a second time and again it was slammed shut as soon as it was opened.

This time backed me up against the door, one hand closing the door and supporting his weight as he leaned forward. His free hand searched the back of my pants, groping my ass shamelessly giving me no time to react as he slid my phone out of my pocket.

Just like that he had my phone and I didn’t even do anything, I think my brain was still trying to comprehend his apparent mood swings or something like that. He clicked away on the screen, before meeting my eyes. A sly smirk etched on his mouth as his free hand slid around my backside again, slipping my phone into my pocket. His hand lifted from the door and I made no attempt to move, instead I just stared at him like a big dope. “S’cuse me, I’ve got to get going.”

He pushed past me knocking me out of my daze and exited the supply closet as he sauntered down the hall, flipping his hood back over his head. I popped my head out of the door frame and looked down the hallway to catch Liam raising a confused brow in question. I shook my head and watched as the boy and his friends left the cafe.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket I checked to see what damage he’d done. There was nothing -- nothing but a new sent message with the contact name that simply read ‘Harry’. The prick texted himself from my phone. If he thought I was going to talk him he was out of his damn mind. I soon found my finger hovered over the ‘delete contact’ button, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to delete the strangers number. Fucking hell, Bandit, you’re pathetic.


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