Plunge
The "date"
~Cassidy~
“Holy motherfucking shit, I’m coming!” I yelled, pinning one last bobby pin in place.
I made an incoherent screaming noise as the doorbell just kept on ringing, and mentally screamed at myself for agreeing to hang out with him. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I wrenched open the door, glaring at him and breathing heavily. He wore a smirk on his face, and my eyes scanned down his body to take him all in.
He was wearing black ankle boots with black skinny jeans, and a black jacket pulled over a black dress shirt with little white hearts on them, slightly unbuttoned so that I could see the faintest hint of a silver chain peeking out.
I smirked slightly; I’ll admit, I thought the dress shirt was pretty cute. I looked up at his face. His hair was styled in a quiff, sticking up in waves and curls, and his green eyes sparkled.
I frowned at him, “You don’t need to ring the doorbell every two seconds, asshole.”
“I know,” he said simply, shooting me a boyish smile, at which I rolled my eyes. He was already starting to annoy me.
“Let’s just go,” I growled, pushing past him. I vaguely noticed his gaze drift down my body. I was wearing a flowing black dress that went down to mid-thigh. Right below my breasts was a small satiny black ribbon, giving me a curved figure, and the long sleeves were lacy. I wore simple black flats to accentuate everything. My hair was down, and I’d braided it along the sides of my head. I’d only applied a bit of mascara and lip-gloss; I didn’t own that much makeup.
“Curly?” I questioned, stopping on the steps and looking back at him.
He cleared his throat and looked away, “Right.”
We crossed over the lawn and mounted into his black Range Rover. The sky was dark, thanks to the clouds overhead, so the streetlights were already on. He shoved the key into the ignition as I buckled my seatbelt into place and crossed my arms over my chest, staring straight ahead. I didn’t want to be here; I would rather be at home right now, on my bed, curled up, reading a book. Instead, I was in a car, all dressed up, heading to a club. This was not me. I wasn’t social…at all.
“So,” Harry began, his voice pitching upwards at the end of the word. I risked a glance over at him, only to find that he was focussed on the road, one of his hands resting on the wheel calmly, the other situated on the gearstick.
“Don’t try to make conversation,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. Fuck.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands.
I sucked in a deep breath, “Do you want to get us killed?”
“What?” he said; his brow creasing. Finally, he realised that I was talking about the fact that he didn’t have any hands on the wheel. He looked down, and then began to laugh, slowly snaking his hands back up to wrap around the circular device. I gritted my teeth, glaring out of the window. The car smelled just like him: spearmint lingered in the air, and I sneezed.
“Bless you,” he said, smirking, and I just rolled my eyes, not bothering to thank him. I wasn’t going to enjoy this; I was completely positive.
Knowing him, he’d probably get drunk and take another slut home, leaving me stranded. My mind flashed back to the other night, when I’d gone over to his house to return the envelope that he’d dropped, only to find him half naked, practically fawning all over that girl with red hair.
Shut the fucking fuck up, Cassidy.
Right.
I sighed, watching as the highway zoomed past us. The car ride was tense; neither of us bothering to make conversation, but that was exactly the way I liked it. Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of a club. I looked up to read the flashing neon sign: ‘Shots’.
“Wow,” I said sarcastically, making a small exasperated sound as I climbed out of the car.
Harry merely chuckled, which made me mad; what was with him and all this damn chuckling all the fucking time?
“Come on,” he reached out, no doubt to put his arm around my waist, but I stepped aside. Immediately, he blushed, remembering that this was in no way a date, but forged forward anyways. We entered the bar, only to be met with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. I immediately wrinkled my nose. I didn’t drink or smoke and I planned to keep it that way.
People were on the dance floor, grinding their asses off, in the corner, making out drunkenly, or sitting at the bar, sipping their drinks and talking animatedly.
At the far side of the room, I noticed a hallway that led off into a secluded private area, with a sign reading ‘Rooms.’
Ew.
“Want a drink?” Harry asked me over the loud music. I shrugged, feeling and no doubt looking very bored. This wasn’t my kind of scene, and I didn’t like change.
We made our way over to the bar. I almost got lost in the crowd of people dancing and lashed out, grabbing the fabric of Harry’s jacket. He smiled slightly, and I immediately pulled my hand back, deciding to tough it out.
Finally pushing through the throng, he grabbed a stool and slid onto it, and I mimicked him. He signalled the bartender over and ordered a beer, and then looked at me expectantly.
I shook my head, “I don’t drink,” I said, a hint of distaste present in my voice.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and then turned back to the bartender, “Just a beer then, please.”
The man nodded gruffly and walked away to get his drink, and I raised an eyebrow at him,
“Planning on getting piss drunk?” I asked, shooting him a disgusted look.
He laughed, drumming his long fingers on the wooden countertop, “Nah,” he said, making a face, “But I can still have one drink.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, shifting myself so that I was facing straight at the bar. The bartender came back with Harry’s drink and slid it over to him, and Harry tossed him some money in return. The man pocketed it and Harry took a long swig of his beer, finally setting it down and facing me. I stuck out my tongue.
“Don’t like it?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes, “You just realised?”
He smirked at me, his green eyes glinting mischievously in the bright lights. Our eyes held contact for a moment before I looked away, fiddling with my fingers. This was not fun.
“Oh, lighten up,” Harry nudged me, and my eyes widened, shocked at the fact that he was touching me. I scooted a bit away from him, and he seemed to notice, but rather than moving closer, he just brought the beer bottle up to his full, pink lips and took another sip, eyeing me.
I looked away and huffed.
“Want to dance?” he asked, and my eyes widened, my head whipping back around at him, “I don’t dance.”
“Sure you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Please?”
“Fuck off.”
He chuckled, and craned his neck to look around the bar. The tension in the air was so thick that you could slice through it with a knife, reminding me of Alkali metals. I was almost tempted to walk out of there, but Harry was my goddamn ride.
Well, this was just awesome.
“Where’s the washroom?” I asked suddenly, needing to get out of here, at least try to get some air. He frowned at the question but then said, “In the back.”
“That narrows it down,” I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes, sliding off of my stool and pushing through the crowd, not bothering to mutter apologies.
Finally, after a few minutes, I found the ladies room and slipped inside. It was disgusting. The floor was littered with dirt and toilet paper, and there was a used condom on the floor. Okay, gross.
I looked at myself in the mirror, taking deep breaths, wanting to clear my head. I didn’t want to be here. Maybe I should just go back out there and demand that Curly take me home. This was not my idea of fun; I didn’t know how people could stand this.
Finally, after stalling as much as I figured that I could, I pursed my lips and reached for the handle on the washroom door, slipping back out into the club. There was a couple right beside me making out, the girl making weird, strangled sounds, and I shook my head in distaste, about to forge back through the crowd to get back to Harry.
Just then, a hand wrapped around my wrist. I turned around, only to find a man a few inches taller than me, grinning stupidly. He had brown eyes and copper-coloured hair, and he reeked of alcohol.
Oh fuck.
I’m going to get raped. I’m going to get abused. He’s going to kill me, my subconscious launched herself into frenzy, and I gritted my teeth, wishing that I could to absolutely anything to calm her down.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” he slurred, stumbling closer to me. My eyes widened and my brain immediately went into panic mode, but I was frozen, petrified, “Wanna get outta here?”
I shook my head vigorously, but he just kept on advancing, his hand holding me in a tight grip. I was about to smack him when I felt another hand on the small of my back.
More rape. More abuse, my subconscious wailed.
Oh my God, shut the fuck up, Cassidy!
I turned around, scared that it was another stranger, but I was met with curly hair and green eyes.
“She’s taken, mate,” he said coldly to the drunken man, his entire being radiating tenseness at that moment.
“Oh,” the drunk guy said dumbly, and then let go of my wrist, lumbering away to bother some other people. I rubbed my wrist, frowning, and then looked up at Harry. He was still glaring at the man, his eyes following him. I looked back down, ashamed of myself. People continued to dance around the club and sip drinks, completely unaware of what had just happened.
Or maybe they were used to it. Maybe they came here often enough to know that there was always a case like this each night.
The thought of that scared me.
“Thanks,” I muttered to Harry and I felt his gaze finally snap away from the man and pierce me.
He nodded; his eyes still hard, “No problem.”
We both seemed to realise that his fingers were still splayed out on the small of my back protectively at the same time. He cleared his throat, moving away, while I let my gaze drop back down to my wrist, rubbing it, just looking for something to do.
“Let’s go,” he said, and I nodded, relieved that we were finally on the same page.
“Holy motherfucking shit, I’m coming!” I yelled, pinning one last bobby pin in place.
I made an incoherent screaming noise as the doorbell just kept on ringing, and mentally screamed at myself for agreeing to hang out with him. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I wrenched open the door, glaring at him and breathing heavily. He wore a smirk on his face, and my eyes scanned down his body to take him all in.
He was wearing black ankle boots with black skinny jeans, and a black jacket pulled over a black dress shirt with little white hearts on them, slightly unbuttoned so that I could see the faintest hint of a silver chain peeking out.
I smirked slightly; I’ll admit, I thought the dress shirt was pretty cute. I looked up at his face. His hair was styled in a quiff, sticking up in waves and curls, and his green eyes sparkled.
I frowned at him, “You don’t need to ring the doorbell every two seconds, asshole.”
“I know,” he said simply, shooting me a boyish smile, at which I rolled my eyes. He was already starting to annoy me.
“Let’s just go,” I growled, pushing past him. I vaguely noticed his gaze drift down my body. I was wearing a flowing black dress that went down to mid-thigh. Right below my breasts was a small satiny black ribbon, giving me a curved figure, and the long sleeves were lacy. I wore simple black flats to accentuate everything. My hair was down, and I’d braided it along the sides of my head. I’d only applied a bit of mascara and lip-gloss; I didn’t own that much makeup.
“Curly?” I questioned, stopping on the steps and looking back at him.
He cleared his throat and looked away, “Right.”
We crossed over the lawn and mounted into his black Range Rover. The sky was dark, thanks to the clouds overhead, so the streetlights were already on. He shoved the key into the ignition as I buckled my seatbelt into place and crossed my arms over my chest, staring straight ahead. I didn’t want to be here; I would rather be at home right now, on my bed, curled up, reading a book. Instead, I was in a car, all dressed up, heading to a club. This was not me. I wasn’t social…at all.
“So,” Harry began, his voice pitching upwards at the end of the word. I risked a glance over at him, only to find that he was focussed on the road, one of his hands resting on the wheel calmly, the other situated on the gearstick.
“Don’t try to make conversation,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. Fuck.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands.
I sucked in a deep breath, “Do you want to get us killed?”
“What?” he said; his brow creasing. Finally, he realised that I was talking about the fact that he didn’t have any hands on the wheel. He looked down, and then began to laugh, slowly snaking his hands back up to wrap around the circular device. I gritted my teeth, glaring out of the window. The car smelled just like him: spearmint lingered in the air, and I sneezed.
“Bless you,” he said, smirking, and I just rolled my eyes, not bothering to thank him. I wasn’t going to enjoy this; I was completely positive.
Knowing him, he’d probably get drunk and take another slut home, leaving me stranded. My mind flashed back to the other night, when I’d gone over to his house to return the envelope that he’d dropped, only to find him half naked, practically fawning all over that girl with red hair.
Shut the fucking fuck up, Cassidy.
Right.
I sighed, watching as the highway zoomed past us. The car ride was tense; neither of us bothering to make conversation, but that was exactly the way I liked it. Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of a club. I looked up to read the flashing neon sign: ‘Shots’.
“Wow,” I said sarcastically, making a small exasperated sound as I climbed out of the car.
Harry merely chuckled, which made me mad; what was with him and all this damn chuckling all the fucking time?
“Come on,” he reached out, no doubt to put his arm around my waist, but I stepped aside. Immediately, he blushed, remembering that this was in no way a date, but forged forward anyways. We entered the bar, only to be met with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. I immediately wrinkled my nose. I didn’t drink or smoke and I planned to keep it that way.
People were on the dance floor, grinding their asses off, in the corner, making out drunkenly, or sitting at the bar, sipping their drinks and talking animatedly.
At the far side of the room, I noticed a hallway that led off into a secluded private area, with a sign reading ‘Rooms.’
Ew.
“Want a drink?” Harry asked me over the loud music. I shrugged, feeling and no doubt looking very bored. This wasn’t my kind of scene, and I didn’t like change.
We made our way over to the bar. I almost got lost in the crowd of people dancing and lashed out, grabbing the fabric of Harry’s jacket. He smiled slightly, and I immediately pulled my hand back, deciding to tough it out.
Finally pushing through the throng, he grabbed a stool and slid onto it, and I mimicked him. He signalled the bartender over and ordered a beer, and then looked at me expectantly.
I shook my head, “I don’t drink,” I said, a hint of distaste present in my voice.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and then turned back to the bartender, “Just a beer then, please.”
The man nodded gruffly and walked away to get his drink, and I raised an eyebrow at him,
“Planning on getting piss drunk?” I asked, shooting him a disgusted look.
He laughed, drumming his long fingers on the wooden countertop, “Nah,” he said, making a face, “But I can still have one drink.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, shifting myself so that I was facing straight at the bar. The bartender came back with Harry’s drink and slid it over to him, and Harry tossed him some money in return. The man pocketed it and Harry took a long swig of his beer, finally setting it down and facing me. I stuck out my tongue.
“Don’t like it?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes, “You just realised?”
He smirked at me, his green eyes glinting mischievously in the bright lights. Our eyes held contact for a moment before I looked away, fiddling with my fingers. This was not fun.
“Oh, lighten up,” Harry nudged me, and my eyes widened, shocked at the fact that he was touching me. I scooted a bit away from him, and he seemed to notice, but rather than moving closer, he just brought the beer bottle up to his full, pink lips and took another sip, eyeing me.
I looked away and huffed.
“Want to dance?” he asked, and my eyes widened, my head whipping back around at him, “I don’t dance.”
“Sure you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Please?”
“Fuck off.”
He chuckled, and craned his neck to look around the bar. The tension in the air was so thick that you could slice through it with a knife, reminding me of Alkali metals. I was almost tempted to walk out of there, but Harry was my goddamn ride.
Well, this was just awesome.
“Where’s the washroom?” I asked suddenly, needing to get out of here, at least try to get some air. He frowned at the question but then said, “In the back.”
“That narrows it down,” I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes, sliding off of my stool and pushing through the crowd, not bothering to mutter apologies.
Finally, after a few minutes, I found the ladies room and slipped inside. It was disgusting. The floor was littered with dirt and toilet paper, and there was a used condom on the floor. Okay, gross.
I looked at myself in the mirror, taking deep breaths, wanting to clear my head. I didn’t want to be here. Maybe I should just go back out there and demand that Curly take me home. This was not my idea of fun; I didn’t know how people could stand this.
Finally, after stalling as much as I figured that I could, I pursed my lips and reached for the handle on the washroom door, slipping back out into the club. There was a couple right beside me making out, the girl making weird, strangled sounds, and I shook my head in distaste, about to forge back through the crowd to get back to Harry.
Just then, a hand wrapped around my wrist. I turned around, only to find a man a few inches taller than me, grinning stupidly. He had brown eyes and copper-coloured hair, and he reeked of alcohol.
Oh fuck.
I’m going to get raped. I’m going to get abused. He’s going to kill me, my subconscious launched herself into frenzy, and I gritted my teeth, wishing that I could to absolutely anything to calm her down.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” he slurred, stumbling closer to me. My eyes widened and my brain immediately went into panic mode, but I was frozen, petrified, “Wanna get outta here?”
I shook my head vigorously, but he just kept on advancing, his hand holding me in a tight grip. I was about to smack him when I felt another hand on the small of my back.
More rape. More abuse, my subconscious wailed.
Oh my God, shut the fuck up, Cassidy!
I turned around, scared that it was another stranger, but I was met with curly hair and green eyes.
“She’s taken, mate,” he said coldly to the drunken man, his entire being radiating tenseness at that moment.
“Oh,” the drunk guy said dumbly, and then let go of my wrist, lumbering away to bother some other people. I rubbed my wrist, frowning, and then looked up at Harry. He was still glaring at the man, his eyes following him. I looked back down, ashamed of myself. People continued to dance around the club and sip drinks, completely unaware of what had just happened.
Or maybe they were used to it. Maybe they came here often enough to know that there was always a case like this each night.
The thought of that scared me.
“Thanks,” I muttered to Harry and I felt his gaze finally snap away from the man and pierce me.
He nodded; his eyes still hard, “No problem.”
We both seemed to realise that his fingers were still splayed out on the small of my back protectively at the same time. He cleared his throat, moving away, while I let my gaze drop back down to my wrist, rubbing it, just looking for something to do.
“Let’s go,” he said, and I nodded, relieved that we were finally on the same page.
Notes
So it's 9 AM where I am, and I'm leaving to go to a park for the day (some family picnic shit) so please give me feedback to greet me once I get back! I'm sorry if this update was a bit short, I'm kind of rushed at the moment, so yeah.What did you think? The next chapter will be long and dramatic, trust me! Drama, drama, drama...mm, love that stuff.
Okay, enough with my weirdness :p
Random fact: Nobody knows when donuts were invented or who invented them.
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I haven't forgotten about this story. Please update soon!!
10/25/15