Blowing Smoke (Harry Styles)

Chapter 16

"Now, you don’t have to decide right now." Paul continued after a few seconds of Harry and my utter silence. 

I was shocked and dismayed. I would hate to join the Westsiders, kill people and help with shipments of who knows what. They didn’t live the good life. They were always on edge, on the run. But was it better than the life I’ve lived this past month? 

"Let’s hold it off until you are finished with your training." he continued. "Harry will be training you, with help from some of the others. But you have to live with us the next few days or weeks. I won’t pay any mind to your father arguing about you going back home because you need to be trained. You will be allowed to contact your father but each conversation will have to be public so that if the Eastsiders were to be able to pick up on your conversation, they won’t know anything. We don’t have a guest room at the moment, so you will have to sleep on the sofa. Any questions?"

"Is th-this r-really n-n-necessary?" I asked with slight annoyance. 

"Yes." Paul replied. "And from now on, you will respond to Harry and do as he tells you."

I could feel Harry smiling from behind me. He was a cocky bastard. 

I shifted uneasily in my chair, gripping the arms with my hands. 

"I normally wouldn’t suggest that you would join us, as a possibility," Paul continued explaining, as if explaining it to himself. "But you are a feisty, strong and driven girl."

"W-woman." I corrected him with a slight scowl.

"And you’ve got a slight temper." Harry added.

I looked at him over my shoulder and scowled at him, narrowing my eyes. I hated him being here during this conversation which should have only been for my ears.

"And y-you’re an arsehole." I countered to him. 

He laughed and I rolled my eyes, turning back to Paul who was smirking like a little boy on Christmas. “I can’t wait to see the two of you work together.” he chuckled, holding onto his stomach as he laughed lightly. 

"And w-when is that ex-exactly?" I asked Paul, tilting my head slightly to the side to listen attentively. 

"I say now." Paul replied with a shrug. "You seem dressed for the attire." 

I looked down and saw that I was still in my sports bra and running shorts. I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, hiding my goose bump risen flesh and my hideous scar with my palm. I pressed my hand firmly against it. I recalled when I did that when I was initially wounded and it was a bloody gash rather than a scar. The blood oozing between my fingers. Blood. Red. 

"Come along." Harry said to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me right out of my trance in a split second. I shook off his hand from my arm and stood up for myself. I glared at him for touching me, making him chuckle. 

"Don’t kill each other." Paul joked and laughed, while Harry and I stayed quiet.

We left the meeting room and instantly, the perky idiotic blonde; Natalie, ran into Harry’s arms.

"I feel really badly about your stutter." she whispered into his bare chest.

I rolled my eyes.

"Nat, the reason that I say M-Monreau’s name like that is because I’m saying it how she says it." Harry explained to Natalie and rubbed his hand down her skinny back. Through the shirt she was wearing, you could see her ribs poking out slightly just under her oversized breasts. No doubt, they were from breast implants; they were too firm and high to be natural.