The Bar Owner's Daughter

Clarke Stevenson is the daughter of the owner of the popular bar in London. Ever since she was 16 she would watch a local guy, Harry Styles get drunk and get into bar fights. One night after a violent bar fight Clarke takes care of Harry. They later develop a friendship that know one seems to agree with.

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12. Winter

Clarke's P.O.V

It's the New Year's Day. My dad gave me the day off even though the bar is extremely busy. It's been 5 months since I last saw Harry. I'm over him and I can say that confidently. I'm better off without him. I'm going to a university now and my mum lives with my dad at the bar. I live on my own. I work part time, since I have a internship at photo shoot place for stores like TopShop and Brandy Melville.

"Clarke! How's my favorite intern!" Mrs. Stollman said while taking off her scarf. She's the owner of the studio. I don't want to be a photographer. I want to work on a movie set, but there are no internships for that, so this is the next best thing.

"Good." I say while handing her, her coffee. She straightens her black blazer and lowers her black pencil skirt. Then walks over to her chair near the set and sits.

"Everyone here?" She tosses her blonde hair and licks her red lips.

"Clarke, help me." Leah said. She was the makeup artist for the studio. She got the job since she was friends with Mrs. Stollman.

"Okay." I walk up to the thin model sitting in the chair.

"Angled eyeliner brush." She puts out her hand, and I give her the tiny brush. "Black eye shadow." I hand her the urban decay naked basics palette. "We have a new employee, he's around your age." Leah smirked.

"I'm not looking for anyone." I shake my head. She's always tried to set me up with someone.

"That's too bad, he's engaged anyways." She shrugged. "Why aren't you looking for anyone? Your young, go to a party and get your flirt on!" She said in her New York accent. She went to beauty school in New York and worked there for awhile, then came here.

"It's not my thing."

"Listen, my friend's son is about your age, and I think you would like him. Why don't you guys go on a little date. I'll call her up and everything will be-"

"No thanks Leah, I uh-"

"I wasn't giving you a choice." She stopped doing the model's makeup and looked at me.

"Fine." I groan.

"Great! I'll do your makeup!" She cheered. Oh fuck.

______________________________

I stand outside the restaurant. How did I get myself into this? Leah can be so annoying. I'm wearing some black dress that is too tight, two sizes too small. We borrowed it from the studio, along with black heels and some jewelry. My makeup is.... Wow. It's a bit too much, I feel like hooker. I walk in and sit at a table set for two. I set down my clutch on the table and go on my phone.

"Hi." A guy said. I know his voice, I would never forget it. Harry. I look up and see him, all dressed up and a suit and tie his hair looks clean.

"Harry." I say.

"Clarke, you, you look different." He sits down, I was planning on getting up and leaving.

"Yeah, makeup." I shrug.

"You kinda look like a-"

"A hooker?" I answer coldly.

"Yeah!" Harry laughs. I'm not one to hold a grudge, but boy do I hate him.

"I'm leaving." I get up and start to walk, but Harry grabs my arm.

"Why?" He says. I stare at him until his brain starts to fiction properly. "Come on Clarke you can't seriously be mad."

"I'm surprised you aren't leaving either, wouldn't want me to get attached." I cross my arms.

"That was awhile ago!" Harry yells and gets up.

"I'm leaving." I start to walk, but Harry grabs my arm again and stand in front of me.

"Let go of me!" I tug my arm back.

"Once you forgive." Harry smirks.

"No." I walk out the door and on to the back street. I parked there since the parking lot was full.

"Hey lady!" A guy yelled.

"Don't call me that." I say no looking at him.

"Whatever whore." He spit.

"Hey! Don't call her that." I turn and see Harry. Great, that's just great. Harry needs to take anger management classes.

"What are you going to do about!" The other guy yelled.

Harry takes off his jacket and runs towards the guy. The guy dodged him and tackled Harry back. Harry pushes him off and gets up. The guy kicked Harry in the side of thigh and then hit him in the ribs several times Harry falls back and drops on the tar of the road. The guy gets on top of him and started punching him left and right. He just continues hitting him. I'm used to this, seeing Harry get his ass kicked at the bar. Except this isn't the bar.

"Stop!" I yell firmly. I start walking over. "Get off of him!" I grab the guys shoulder and tried to tug him off. The guy hits me in the eye. The guy gets up and kicks Harry in the ribs and chest. Then he takes out a knife.

"No!" I charge towards the guy and throw him to the ground with me on top of him. The guy flips us over and I hit the back of my head. He pins me down and smiles.

"Such a stupid girl." He chuckles. I keep my face serious and angry. I then spit in his eye, and he let's my arm free to wipe his eye. I push him off and get up. "I might as well finish up your friend." He walks Harry and slashes his wrist in a zig-zag way, knowing that Harry could bleed to death and you can't stitch it either. After a couple seconds the guy got up and walked away without a single word. And there he was, on the ground drenched in blood and not moving. My heart stopped for a second, and then my brain cells kicked in.

"Harry." I slide on the road scraping my knees. I try to pick him up, but he's too heavy. "Come on, get up." I hear Harry groan, he gets a little bit lighter. I pick him up and start dragging him to my car. I open the door and put him in the passenger seat. Should I take him to my flat of the hospital?

(A double update what! I have pre-written some chapters. I will be very busy traveling for the next three weeks!)

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