chapter eighteen.

                                    

                                          
"What do you want from me? You told me you wanted me to 'stop,' well I've stopped. I'm not snooping anymore, I've agreed to leave you the hell alone. So what is it that you want?"
                          
I had turned on Harry as soon as I had gotten over the shock of the fact that he had started college here just to try and get into the same classes as me. 
                          
"What is your fucking point? You win! You've scared me, you stopped me from trying to expose you, yeah? You got under my skin. What more do you want?"
                          
I had been screaming like this, asking questions of the wild-haired man as soon as we'd reached the outside of my English building. Harry hadn't answered a single thing I'd said, just allowed me to yell to my heart's content. 
                          
"I'm interested in you, now."
                          
Finally, he spoke, and his vague words only infuriated me more. I wasn't one to curse much, but in the last few days I'd been steadily dropping bombs with every sentence. 
                          
"I don't fucking care, Harry, stay away from me," I stated harshly, watching as the brunette just chuckled, shaking his head. White teeth glinted in the autumn sun outside as he grinned. 
                          
"You're so stubborn, it's adorable. I'm not going anywhere. You wanted to get to know me, well... now you've got your chance." His voice was smooth and sing-songy, like he was dancing playfully over the words that were leaving his lips. This was all a game to him. 
                          
He continued, though, before I had a chance at a rebuttal. "Listen, Arabella. If I had really wanted to hurt you, you'd be dead by now." His voice still wasn't menacing, but it had dropped to a more serious tone than it had before. Suddenly I felt awfully trapped with my back leaning against the bricks of the building and Harry standing only inches away from me, green gaze not once breaking contact. "I was trying to scare you at first, but... now I'm really interested in you. You're so... small and soft-spoken, but then something hits your nerves just the right way, and-" his eyes widened teasingly, and I watched as his teeth grazed his lower lip, "it's like you're a firecracker, unable to hush her stubborn little mouth."
                          
He'd stepped closer to me as he spoke, the space between us nearly nonexistent as he peered down at me, one large, ringed hand planted on the bricks beside my head. My breathing was hitched in my throat. I hated this man, this criminal, for what he was doing to me, but I... Standing here I was transfixed by the hue of his eyes and the scent of vanilla on his white V-neck. The way his lips moved when he spoke, the smooth rumbling of his voice.
                          
He was intoxicating.
                          
"I've never met someone like you," Harry continued, his voice unwavering. "You're afraid of me, just like the others, but you... you don't cower. You know what I'm capable of, what I can do, and yet you're smart-mouthed enough to tell me to fuck off." His tongue escaped his mouth to slowly run over his lower lip as he grinned. "I like that."
                          
I faltered for a moment before I was able to speak. "I- just because I'm not running from you doesn't mean I want anything to do with you, Harry."
                          
It was as if he hadn't heard me. It was as if I hadn't spoken at all. 
                          
"Are you a virgin, Bella?"
                          
What?
                          
My eyes flew absolutely wide where I stood, my face growing exceptionally warm at his words. He really had the nerve to ask me something like that? "Sorry, what?" I asked, my voice much meeker now. 
                          
"Has anyone ever touched you?"
                          
His voice was thicker, deeper, like his entire set of emotions had taken a turn for the worse. He was as close as possible to me now, his head tilted down to look at me, his eyebrows arched in a seductive question. 
                          
Still, I didn't respond. How could I respond to something like that? My entire body had been flooded with surprise and embarrassment, and my tongue seemed to be stuck in my mouth, unable to move.
                          
"They haven't, have they?" He hummed incredulously, a delicious smile forming on his plump lips. I felt him shift as his free hand was lifted to grip my right hip, his index finger sliding through the belt loop of my jeans. I was tugged forward, one of my hands raising to press to his chest in an attempt to catch myself, though all it did was put a half-centimeter of space between us. Not enough to make any sort of difference. 
                          
I didn't understand what was going on. This man had been stalking me, he'd just been in bed with my best friend for Christ's sake! And now he was asking about how much sex I'd had? 
                          
The answer was yes, that I had been touched before - not by many people, only two of my long-term boyfriends. But he didn't exactly give me a chance to say so.
                          
"Don't you want to be touched, Arabella? Don't you want to know how good it could feel, my lips on your skin, your hands in my hair," Harry rambled out, and I had never felt so flustered in my life. A small breath escaped me as I felt warm fingers slip beneath the back of my sweater, gliding up the skin of my lower back, before I somehow managed to pull away. 
                          
I shoved my hand against Harry's chest, though it only sent him back a half-step. Instead of finding anger in his expression, or annoyance at being rejected, a chuckle left his jaws as he crossed his arms over his chest, watching me. 
                          
I didn't know what his goal was, in doing that to me, but I knew part of it was seeing how flustered he could get me - and he had definitely succeeded. My whole body was flush pink, my stomach was filled with butterflies, my heart was threatening to burst out of my chest. 
                          
"You're disgusting," I snapped at him, though the malice I had hoped would fill my voice was nonexistent. I didn't mean it. In truth, Harry's breath on my neck and his fingers dancing over my skin had left me yearning for more, with goosebumps lining my arms and my body tingling. 
                          
I would never give him the satisfaction of knowing this, though. 
                          
"We should probably get to class, hm?" Harry let out with a tilt of his head as he moved to the door of the building, opening it and waving me inside, that smirk still sitting proudly on his lips. 
                          
With a small noise of flustered irritation, I turned and headed through the door, Harry following close behind me. My English class was on the first floor of the building, so in just a moment we were standing outside of the classroom door, where I could see my professor setting up for class. I hesitated before walking inside, trying to compose myself. 
                          
With a long exhale of breath, I headed through the door, glancing around for any empty seats. However, what I was greeted with caused me to stop in my tracks. 
                          
Zayn's warm grin as he straightened up in his seat, raising a hand to gain my attention, motioning to the seat to his left. He had really done it. I knew that Sebastian had told him to do this, but... so soon? Apparently so. 
                          
With the smallest of smiles, I headed in Zayn's direction, weaving through the rows of desks to reach him and sit down in the chair beside him. "M'not stalking you, promise. This was Bash's idea," he hummed with a light chuckle, to which I just let out a small laugh.
                          
I hadn't payed any attention to where Harry had gone once we'd entered the classroom, though I soon heard the seat on the other side of me slide against the tile floor, and I knew who had taken it without even glancing in his direction. 
                          
"So, is this class pretty easy? Is there anything I'll need to catch up on?" Zayn asked me, to which I shook my head. I parted my lips to respond, to tell him we'd only just started reading a novel two days ago, when I was cut short. 
                          
"Oh, hey, mate. You a friend of Bella's?" Harry's voice. 
                          
Zayn arched his brows and leaned around me to allow his eyes to land on Harry. He offered a somewhat placid smile, stretching his tan hand across my body towards Harry's own. The two were shaking hands. 
                          
"Yeah, yeah- I'm Zayn Malik," Zayn answered. At the moment, I didn't even consider the fact that he and Sebastian didn't share the same last name, though this question would bug me later. I was far too focused on the situation at hand, far too focused on the fact that one of the men that was supposed to be keeping me away from danger, and away from the Masked Man, was currently being introduced to him. And he had no idea. As Harry shook his hand with a conniving grin, introducing himself, Zayn had absolutely no clue. 
                          
"Harry Styles. Nice to meet you, mate."