Rivals |l.s|

Three

Harry wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, cry and punch his stupid ass cousin so badly right now. It didn't help him that this was his first ever party, and to top it all off, he wasn't the most social butterfly in town. When people ignore you for years, and you have absolutely no friends, your social skills do become questioningly nonexistent.

His cousin, his one and only friend had ditched him for a game of beer pong with his crude class mates. Harry wasn't going to complain out loud to Niall but he felt lonely. He hated this feeling, this gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, his throat closing over as he pushes back his tears. He wasn't going to cry. No, Harry Styles was stronger than that.

He looked around casually, trying to distract the tears from falling. The party was taking place at some resort or some kind of a big apartment Sandy owned. The room they were all gathered in right now was filled with all sorts of people. Red and blue cups were being passed around and any idiot would bet that there was some kind of a drug in all of these cups. Spiking drinks was a common sight in Sandy's party. Did Harry know that? You bet your ass he didn't. That being the reason, he had already consumed at least three full cups of what he supposed was "fruit punch." He was angry at Niall, angry at himself for being so awkward, angry at Sandy for holding a masquerade party in 2016- who does that these days? - angry at everyone who were too much of a pussy to talk to him, angry at the boys across the dance floor who kept on winking and licking their lips whilst checking out Harry's entire body from head to toe. Clearly more interested in his fit body than his face, which was covered by a black and silver mask.

Harry cringed inwardly as one of the over bulky guys who had been practically eye raping him for quite some time now, approached him.

"Hey babe," the man slid his hand on Harry's chest, tracing his birds tattoo splayed on it. Harry shivered in disgusted, hoping the man didn't mistake it as a sign of pleasure, as he tried to pull away from him.

Harry wasn't a novice at these things. During the time when he thought he was "straight", he had played with quite a large number of females in his school. It didn't help that those females were still not over him, claiming Harry had some sort of a "charm" which other boys lacked. This is why he was enemies with the head cheerleaders of his school, Taylor Swift and Kendall Jenner. They talked to him alright, but not without ever so often touching his biceps or casually tripping over so that their faces were right in front of his crotch. He didn't say anything to them, just smiled and walked away. You could see that the feeling of enmity was purely one sided.

"You alone?" the guy asked, nodding his head as an invite to his two friends. Harry visibly flinched, noticing that all of them were taller than him. Even at 5'11, Harry looked like twink.

The guys surrounded him in a circle, each and every single one of them raking his body up and down. What do you expect a person to do in this situation? Without answering any of the question, Harry pushed pass the three men and ran, down the stairs, past the heavily snogging (nearly stripping each other) couple, past the garden where a gang of boys were playing beer pong (including his very own cousin), past the couple of bushes from where he could clearly hear people moaning and grunting, he ran until he came out in the open, a few feet away from the place where the party was being held. The area was isolated, except a big fountain with a statue of cupid whose arrows would not stop spilling water. He sat on the edge of the fountain, trying to regain his breath. Being in the football team helped in such times.

"Hey bitch, you're quite a runner aren't you," Harry would've responded to the word "bitch" if he didn't recognize the voice. It was the same guy who had dared to touch him.

Shit Shit Shit Harry kept on repeating the word in his mind as the three guys approached him in confident strides with smirks evident on their faces.