038

                                    

                                          
I wiped my hands on the fabric of my dress, a nervous habit. I swallowed down what was left of caution and elegantly followed the flawless strides that belonged to Harry and Zayn. We barely made any signal as with a nudge of his chin up, Zayn split away from us. He tugged at his black blazer and straightened out, slipping into the crowd of chatting people.
                          
The bold movement of Harry's confident footsteps kept me struggling to keep up. Our arrival was perfectly unnoticed. I felt courageous and I slipped my fingers in between his, warming my anxious body when he squeezed my hand, and though his stern face never softened, I knew he meant to.
                          
He led me behind a velvet red curtain that hung from the vast height of the ceiling. It shadowed the areas away from the suspicious, wandering eyes of the men or women in that room. I found his eyes watching around us, searching for cameras or evidence of any kind like he had done just before we entered.
                          
His pale green eyes focused on me once again. "Listen," he murmured, "We have exactly twenty minutes for this all to fall into place. I have an idea -- considerably good one. Anything considered a bleaching agent, rolls and rolls of aluminum foil, and a litre of vinegar. Water, too. Should almost be like fumes and if heated, highly flammable." 
                          
"A heated acid bomb?" I whispered. 
                          
"That's exactly what it is, baby. Easiest one to make, too. Causes enough distraction we need," Harry says lowly.
                          
I nodded. "Okay. I like it." 
                          
"I love it when we're on the same page," he huskily told me, corner of his lips turned up the slightest bit in a smirk. "And I also...love this dress." 
                          
My lips curved and I gently kissed his lips. Into them, I murmured, "Thank you, maybe we can share it." 
                          
He growled and pinched my ass. I forgot, momentarily, about our situation, and chuckled. My hand slapped his away from my ass, and it resulted to us getting back on task. This is what Zayn was talking about. We seem to be getting off track all the time, but it's not like I minded it very much. I should for our safety.
                          
We made our way through the crowd, and he never stood less than ten feet away from me. I leaned against a table, trying to spot different used bottles of water people were leaving behind. We would need those, and many of them if we were planning to get the whole place in flammable fumes.
                          
I spotted one and took it, tipping the cap open as if I were to use it. I hadn't noticed my hands were so shaky until I held the bottle up, examining the label.
                          
"That's quite unhygienic," a voice said to me. It was playful, yet dark in an odd way. I've heard it before. I have, and I know it. "You know...picking up a random water bottle --- tempted to drink from it? Don't know who's lips were on those before yours."
                          
Playful, playful, playful...
                          
My eyes snapped up to make eye contact with beautiful, ocean blue ones. His smile was maddening, because it was so prestigious in its highly attractive way. His cheekbones were structured fairly well, actually flawless. 
                          
I had to stop shaking. I swallowed and said nothing. He watched me, reaching out towards me. I stiffened, not to a very noticeable extent. He grabbed the water bottle from my hands, brushing his skin against mine, and he tipped the cap open and sipped it. A very visible smirk on his lips. 
                          
"I think you're very pretty. Even though much of your profile is hidden, your lips and the shape of your face...physically alluring," he spoke, and the more I heard that voice, the more it began to tick me off because I just couldn't put it together.
                          
I never dared to look away from him, because I knew that the way he was observing me, he would notice, and he would know there's something I find intimidating about him. And besides that he is as cruelly clever as a mental patient's wit, there was surprisingly nothing.