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.


1. Blame it on The Alcohol

Harry's P.O.V

It's around 2am at the bar. I'm definitely drunk as hell. So is everyone around me. Gemma is gonna be pissed at me. I get up and attempt to walk out but this guy bangs into me.

"What the hell!" I scream and push him forward.

"Hey watch it!" The guy says and pushes me back. I clench my fist and punch him in the jawline. He stumbles back. He comes at me head first in the stomach. I'm on the floor and he's on top of me. He hits me in the eye then on my jawline and nose. I throw him off of me and attempt to get up. The guy slams me against the wall and I fall on the floor. He kicks me I'm the back several times and the head once.

"Hey hand me those bottles!" The guy yells. He crashes the bottles on my chest. It hurts like fucking hell.

The police lights are flashing and everyone scatters. I get up again and I fall on the floor from either drunkenness or getting my ass kicked.

I look up and see a girl with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. That's all I see really, since my vision is blurred. She stares and me and looks back. Then bends down and picks me up. She's quite small, but strong.

"Come on Harry move your feet." She struggles. She has a very distinct voice. It's not like anyone girl's voice. It's also an American voice. How does she know my name?

She takes me to the back room where a bed is set up. She lays me down. I close my eyes and fall asleep

Clarke's P.O.V

Harry has fallen asleep. Too many times have I seen him drunk and beaten up.

I walk back in the bar to clean up. Blood is splattered on the floor along with glass. This will take longer than usual.

. . .

After I'm done it's 7am. I get a bucket from the janitor closet and fill it with water. Then I get a rag and dip it in the water. I walk over to Harry and sit down next to him. I take the rag and squeeze some on the water out. Then carefully dab his wounds. He cringes and wakes up.

"Hey." I say softly.

"Who are you?" Harry breathes heavily.

"Clarke." I answer. His eyes are blood shot and breath smells horrid.

"What are you doing?" You can hear the pain in his voice.

"Cleaning your cuts." I say as I pick up the rag and dab the cut near his eye that won't stop bleeding.

"Go ahead." He says. I roll up his shirt to see how badly the guy's head hurt him. It's all red with a bruise slowly forming. I touch his stomach to see his reaction. Harry cringes again. I take out the glass from his chest, tears form from his eyes, but he is trying to hold them in. I go behind him and inspect his back. It's bruised badly.

"Ok, your good." I walk towards the dresser and take out a pillow and blanket, since Harry is sleeping in my bed.

Harry's P.O.V

I wake up and realize I'm not home. This room looks different in light. It's basically an empty large cement box with a dresser, toilet, sink, window, and two doors. One leading to the alley, and the other leading to the bar. There's also a bunch of random built in shelves. I turn and see the large shelves, except this one is filled with books. There has to be at least 500.

"Your up." Clarke says while coming in the room.

"Yeah." I was off last night, Clarke has dark red hair, not brown. She's cute though. Uniquely pretty I guess. Not like any other pretty girls I've seen.

"Are you okay?" Her hair is in a pony tail revealing her many ear piercings. Gold and silver is all mixed up on her ears. There's not too many, she has spaces between them but still. She has a cuff and a earring inside her ear on the left.

"Yeah." No, my whole body aches like fucking hell, and I feel like I'm gonna throw up. I don't want to look like a pussy around her anymore, last night I was so vulnerable, I was a coward.

"Okay, there's a bucket next to you if you feel like your going to throw up." She points. She must of seen my situation. "Wait, your shirt." Clarke walks over.

"What." I look down and see how much blood is on it. I take it off and throw it in the bucket.

"Your stomach is really bruised." Clarke says. I look down and it is. It looks almost black in the center. On the outsides it's a bit lighter. There are still a few glass shards on my chest. "Let me get that." She walks over and kneels down.

Clarke is wearing a lose, somewhat low cut black tank top. If I look down I can see her breasts and it's a nice sight.

"Stop that." She gets up.

"Couldn't help myself." I smirk.

"You are a drunk asshole." Clarke crosses her arms.

"No, I'm a avid drinker." I confirm.

"Your an alcoholic! Anyone who stays past 2am every night is a drunk." She yells.

"Okay maybe I do have a drinking problem. So what?" I shrug. I honestly don't know what's wrong. She probably drinks a lot. Her dad is the owner of this fucking bar.

"You should pace yourself Harry." She says. I still don't know how she knows my name.

"Fine, then every night when I come in, you watch my drinking." I put out my hand to shake on it. She shakes it.

"Also, so getting in to fights." She says.

"Fine." I shrug.

"How old are you anyways?" She asks.

"Why do you fucking care?" I spit. I'm 21.

"Geez who leaked you nudes." She says with humor in her voice.

"How old are you?" I asks.

"Why do you fucking care?" She smirks.

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