𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗

"DONT turn your back on me."

Alex's voice is razor-edged, slicing right through me.

In the beat it takes me to realize he's not the sweet-natured, mild-mannered guy I think he is, I'm pressed against the side of the car, his weight crushing me from behind, my arms pinned between my body and the car.

"Come on," he whispers. "I saw the way you looked at me."

His breath brushes against the back of my neck, the side of my face, my cheek. He reeks of whiskey and cologne.

"Get off me," I force out between gritted teeth, trying to push him away.

"You know you want this," he says, pressing himself against my lower back. His hand slides over my hip, his fingers reaching up beneath my T-shirt. My throat tightens with fear, but instead of pressing back against him, I slam my hips forward, trapping his fingers against the car door.

"Don't be like that," he says with a sickly sweet tone. His voice makes my skin crawl.

"I said stop."

He chuckles, his breath hot on my face. "Yeah, you said that. But I know what you're like. You can't tell me you don't want it."

I try my hardest to wriggle free, my mind reeling at just how strong he is. "I want you to get the fuck off me."

Alex eases up the pressure against me for a split second, just long enough to slam my head against the truck window. Pain lances through my cheekbone and into my skull, sending white-hot sparks dancing across my vision. The glass is icy cold against my face, so cold it almost burns.

"You've got a fucking mouth on you."

He laughs again, but there's venom behind it; he's not playing around anymore. He's angry. He's angry and he's drunk and it's one in the morning and there's not a single soul around. The door handle bites into my hip, and my heart hammers so hard I'm momentarily worried I'll throw up.

All I can think of is Cody.

All I can think about is getting home to him, to the safety of my apartment, and to the safety of a pair of strong arms I know are waiting for me.

My blood pumps hard, pushing adrenaline around my body until I hear my heart beating in my ears.

Hot, clammy hands reach for my waistband, and it's like something snaps inside me. Alex's fatal error is releasing his hold on me for a split second.

He leans back, trying to tug at my jeans, and I take the opportunity to throw my head back as hard as I can into his face. The back of my skull connects with his nose, and once again stars and colored spots dance in my vision. Yelping, I press a hand to the back of my head, watching as he stumbles backward, his hand clutching his nose.

That step back puts some space between us, and, the pain in my head forgotten, I slam my foot between his legs.

His high-pitched yell echoes around the empty lot as he crumples to his knees, his hands clutching his crotch. "F-fucking bitch," he spits, rolling onto his side.

The urge to sink my foot into him again is there, but the pain in my head and the thumping of adrenaline through my veins has me fumbling for my keys instead.