Fists and Knives (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 11

“Excuse me, have you lost your mind?”

I waited until we were back at the house to say anything.  I didn’t want to cause a scene in the car, mainly because I knew that raising my voice would cause Harry to raise his.  Whenever he yelled in the car, I felt like my eardrums would burst into a million pieces.  Also, the driver that we had wasn’t Garf and I didn’t want him to think I was crazy the first time he ever met me.  Neither Louis or Arnold were at the house when we arrived.

“Harry!” I shouted at his back as he walked through the living room.  He was trying to make it seem like he was ignoring me, but I knew he was listening because his pace quickened and his feet stomped a little harder with each step.  His hands were curled up into tight fists.

“Is this a game to you?” I yelled.  He still kept walking.  As he passed the kitchen, I ran in a pulled open the drawers until I found my knife.  Oh, calm down.  I wasn’t planning on stabbing him, but I wanted to talk.  I wanted him to know I was furious with him and I knew that it would get ugly.  I came back out of the kitchen and followed Harry down the hall that had three of the rooms I had yet to explore.  My heartbeat began to speed up as I thought we might be going to wherever his secret staircase was, but instead, Harry led me to the gym, the only part of that hallway that I had been to.  As he walked in the room, Harry shrugged off his suit jacket and dropped it on the floor carelessly.  He pulled at his black tie until it was loose, but still hanging around his neck.  All of the walls in the gym were covered in giant mirrors.  As I watched Harry de-suit, I wondered if he ever just stood and watched himself in the mirrors as he exercised.  Probably.  If I looked that good, I probably would too.

I stood in the doorway of the gym with my arms across my chest, my knife in one hand, and watched as Harry rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and approached the hanging punching-bag in the corner of the room.  My body tensed as he threw a sold punch straight into the bag, forcing it to swing backward to the wall and then forward toward him again.  That was the first time I ever saw him punch anything in person.  I would hate to be on the other side of that fist.

“I wouldn’t have brought Clark to lunch if I knew you were going to humiliate him like that,” I said.

Harry threw a few more punches and stopped, twisting his neck to look at me.  He panted slightly. “I humiliated him?  He humiliated you by fucking another woman!  I was just trying you help you, K.”

"Don't you dare call me that.  You don't deserve to.  Plus, I didn't need your stupid help.”

Harry turned back to the bag and punched it harder and harder. “You’re an ungrateful bitch, you know that?  You sure can pull off a pair of black skinny jeans and heels… I mean, shit, you look sexy as ever… but fuck you.  Fuck you,” Harry repeated, turning back to the bag.

I ground my teeth down into themselves and jutted my jaw forward, completely missing Harry’s compliment.  I was too heated. “You had no right to call Clark out like that.  And in the middle of a crowded restaurant?”

Harry laughed darkly. “Well at least one of us did it.”

I gawked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry continued to punch.  “You can’t convince me that you were going to go home and talk to Clark about how he cheated.  Admit it.  You were going to just go home and pretend it never happened.  Pretend like everything was okay, but it’s not.  I see girls like you putting up with douchebags like him all the fucking time-”

Harry was leaning so far into the bag and punching it so hard that I thought it might actually absorb him.  The skin of his knuckles was slapping against the leather so loudly that I couldn’t hear myself think.  His curls were beginning to fall into his face and I could see sweat stains forming under his arms.