Twisted

"So are you a virgin?"

I nearly spat out my drink from Harry's suddenly blunt, and in my opinion, insolent, question. I quickly averted my gaze at the table, a bit stunned that he would ask such a crude question. And the way he said it was so casually, as if asking what kind of color he liked.

I stalled for a moment, trying to swallow my water. However, I felt his piercing gaze. He knew I was stalling. He missed nothing.

"Claire," He said, a smirk tugging at his lips, "answer my question."

"I don't believe that's any of your business." I said quickly, my eyes glancing around the small diner. I unconsciously tugged the jacket tighter around me. It felt so strange…wearing nothing under this.

"Oh, it's all my business." Harry replied, no longer looking amused.

"Why can't we have a normal conversation?" I tried changing the subject.

Harry leaned closer to me, so close, that I could wear his distinct cologne. I stiffened in my seat, my eyes meeting his on accident. "Are you a virgin or not?" Harry breathed the question, his breath fanning across my face. Shockingly, his breath didn't smell bad. I inhaled it without a word, my eyes unable to leave his. "Claire." He moved even closer to me, his elbows on the table. I felt his knees brush against mine underneath the table. "It's a simple question. It's not like I'm asking anything personal."

Asking me if I was a virgin or not wasn't personal?

"Well to me," I replied in a tight whisper, "that is very personal." I sat back in my seat, convincing myself that my back was aching, when in reality I was trying to stay away from him.

"Why can't you just answer the question?" Harry smirked again, his eyes glinting in mischief. "Are you not a virgin? What are you trying to hide from me?" He leaned across the table, his hand reaching for me. I pressed fully back into the seat, my eyes widening as his hand only fell to the table directly in front of me. His smirk widened when he saw my expression. "You can't hide anything from me. I can see right through you."

"I can see right through you, too." I retaliated quietly.

"Oh you can?" Harry tilted his head, his emerald eyes never leaving mine. "What do you see?"

"A bully."

His eyes widened—just barely. His whole confident façade slipped through his fingers. And I saw it all, and it gave me such a feeling of satisfaction that I found myself smirking back at him. When he saw my smirk, however, he regained his composure and instead looked interested in what I had said.

"A bully." He repeated slowly.

"Yes, a bully—someone who uses strength or power to harm or intimidate those who are weaker." I crossed my legs and sat a little higher, feeling very smug at the baffled look on his face.

"Ms. Manson, are you finally admitting that I'm powerful?" It was his turn to smirk at me, his cockiness returning.

"Instead of scaring people who are weaker," I told him calmly, "why don't you act like a man of honor and mess with people that match your own strength? For instance, I've heard you do…things to women. Does that seem honorable to you?"

He wasn't fazed. "I thought that by now you should've realized I could care less about honor. I don't exactly play by rules."

"I can see." I briefly wondered where our food was.

"It's obvious to me that America is different than here." Harry said. "It seems like a completely different world. But, you're no longer in that world." He lowered his voice, his eyes darkening drastically, "You're in my world now. You play by my rules. Right now, this is the only world you'll ever know. Forget about America."

I was about to reply when the waitress had returned. She shot a nerve-wrecking smile at Harry, her hand trembling, as she set down our food. My salad was small, but it looked like they took the time to do it. Harry's soup was fresh, and even had steam rising from it.

As the waitress was about to walk away, Harry said, "Martha." That caused her to stop. My eyes rose from my salad, noting that her name was Martha.

"Yes?" She said quietly, forcing herself to look at him.

"It took you 25 minutes to bring us our food." Harry told her crossly, his eyes turning on her. I watched as the girl practically suffocated on fear. "What's up with that, huh?"

"I-I'm sorry, I, uh, the cook was—"

"—the cook was what? What was he doing that took him this long to make a fucking salad and a bowl of soup?" Harry demanded louder this time, attracting a few peoples' attention. He stood up from his seat, towering over the trembling girl. By now, my mouth was agape and I stared at Harry with wide, shocked eyes. "If I'm going to pay money for this shit, I expect to have full customer service. Am I wrong to think this?"

"O-of course you're not wrong. It's our mistake, Sir. I'm sorry." She choked out, her lower lip trembling.

"Harry," I said quietly. He ignored me, glaring at the girl for a few seconds, before waving her off and sitting back down. She scrambled away, almost tripping over her own feet. I felt so bad for her.

"Do you do that often?" I asked cautiously, observing his overly solemn expression. He was stirring his soup slowly with his spoon.

"Do what often?"

"Blow up like that."

He looked up, quirking an eyebrow. "You think that was blowing up?" I nodded and he chuckled under his breath. "Then you're in for a surprise."

My stomach churned. I swallowed thickly and forced myself to look away from Harry, looking back down at the salad. I didn't feel like eating all of a sudden.

"Eat your salad." Harry ordered steadily, his eyes watching his soup. "I'm paying for it, so you'll eat it. If not, I'll shove it down your throat."

I picked up my fork and picked up a few pieces of lettuce, leading it to my mouth. The salad had very light dressing, which I liked, and the lettuce was well-prepared. I ate nearly all the salad, noticing that Harry ate quite a bit of his soup. When he was done, he set down his utensils and took out a black cell phone, looking over it. I continued eating until I was finished it, and then I washed it down with some water.

Harry then took out a wallet and tossed a few 5 dollar bills on the table. He stood up and said, "Come on. We're leaving."

I followed behind him out of the restaurant, and wasn't surprised to see that same black car from earlier. I hesitated before getting in, noting how clean the seats were and how the car smelled brand new. Didn't gangsters usually have low riders or something?

Harry was still on his phone, most likely texting someone. I turned to stare out the window, anxious to get back to my apartment. I really wanted to just forget this whole thing. It was already giving me a headache.

It was just too much.

A few days ago, London was my favorite place. And now…it seemed more like a nightmare.

Shockingly, Harry didn't say a word to me. He was too busy on his phone. But when we pulled in front of my apartment, I got out of the car without a word or glance, and was dismayed to see Harry stepping out, too.

He put his phone in his pocket and finally looked at me again. "Don't you know how to get to your own room?"

I only tried to shake off my thoughts and began walking briskly across the parking lot, with Harry right on my heels.

We just reached my door when Harry suddenly had me pinned against the wall, his hands having a firm grip on my waists. I was vaguely aware that I was half naked, and he was so close…

"You're a virgin, aren't you." He stated knowingly. "I can tell a virgin when I see one."

"I'd like to stay that way." I replied.

He smirked down at me and replied, "I'm afraid you might not stay like that for long."

A bit scared and disgusted, I put my hands on his chest and tried pushing him away. However, Harry only moved closer, every curve of our bodies pressed against each other. I've never been this close to a man before. I've kissed before, back in my teenage years, but I've never really gotten physical with anyone before.

"You're disgusting," I snapped, pushing harder against him. He only pressed his hands against the wall on either side of my head, his nose nearly touching mine.

"We have a long way to go, Claire." He whispered.

"You think you know everything about me," I told him, "but in reality, you don't know anything about me. So stop treating me like a whore; I'm not that kind of girl."

"Hm," He studied my face for a moment, and I tensed up when his hands began to move around my waist, nearing my backside. I quickly slapped at his hands, giving him a full on glare. He laughed at that. "Do you honestly think you could scare me?"

"Well you have to be afraid of something." I replied.

I was cut off when he leaned down and captured me in a deep kiss. My eyes widened three times their size, and I desperately pushed against his chest, to no avail. He pressed me even closer, kissing the living daylights out of me.

When he pulled away, smirking, I yelled, "How dare you! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm Harry Styles. Enough said." He replied cockily. He gave me even more of a shock when he quickly reached behind me and squeezed my butt. I jumped, gasping loudly. Did he really just do that?

"I'll see you tomorrow." He told me with a quick wink, before striding away. Blushing angrily, I hurried into my apartment and locked my door. I paced around in my room, still feeling his lips on me.

I hurried into my bathroom, grabbed my toothbrush, and brushed my teeth. I then used mouth wash. Ugh. I could still feel his hands on my waist. I felt disgusted; revolted. I threw off his precious leather jacket, forgetting that I was stark naked underneath, and went to find a decent shirt. I moved his jacket onto my couch, not bothering to fold it.

I was so furious. How dare he! I don't care if he was the king of England or some kind of famous celebrity, he has no right to touch me like that! I fumed silently to myself, ignoring the fact that it was Harry Styles who I was angry with. I don't care if he claims he works past rules and such, I'm not one of those girls who will let any guy touch her, no matter what he says.

I've only dated a few times back in high school. I had my first kiss when I was 14, and it was slightly awkward since I had no idea what to do. When I was 16, a guy tried groping me while we kissed, and I slapped him. He was one of the nicest guys of the school. But did that give him the excuse to touch me without my consent?

Of course not.

For some reason, ever since I could remember, I wasn't one of those girls who always yearned for a boyfriend or got excited about sex. I was the kind of girl who wondered why the world was as it was, or got more excited about a new movie coming out than sex. I liked to look at the opposite sex as my equal opposite first before ever admiring them.

Harry was just a male. He was human; he had a beating heart and two eyes like me. What the hell made him so different? It wasn't like he was a vampire or something.

When I finally began calming down, I took a shower, scrubbing at my skin roughly. The warmth of the water calmed my nerves greatly, and I felt so much better when I stepped out.

Okay, so this is what I was sure of:

Harry wasn't planning on killing me.

Harry likes having power over people, and he's a bit controlling. Okay, a "bit' was a huge understatement. He also seemed to have some kind of anger problem.

Harry was planning on taking my virginity away, unless he was kidding, which I don't think he was.

As I wandered into my living room, brushing through my wet hair and pondering over what I knew about Harry, my eyes fell on his jacket lying on the couch. My stomach dropped.

Damn it. Not again.




This whole jacket thing reminded me of a detail I once heard in Greek mythology. I couldn't quite remember what it was, but there was a goddess or something running along a beach. She came upon a beautiful necklace made of the finest shells. She picked it up, and just then, a god appeared and told her that because she picked up the necklace, she was to be engaged to him.

Well, something along those lines.

This damn jacket obviously was Harry's way of letting me know I was his.




The next morning, I woke up to find Harry Styles's back to me. He looked like he was doing.

I sat up slowly, taken aback. How did he get in here? And why was he here?

"Excuse me," I said sharply, "what are you doing here?"

He turned around, holding up a lacy, red thong I had. Of course I wore it once—a few years back. I guess I never threw it away. Harry smirked slyly at me, his eyebrow quirked. "This is very promising, Claire. I'd love to see you in this."

My cheeks flushed and I sat up further. "Get out of my house! How the hell did you get in here?" I saw that Harry was studying the thong closely so I snapped, "And stop going through my underwear drawer!"

"Have you ever worn this?" He asked, unfazed by my yelling.

"Once or twice."

He stuffed the thong nonchalantly into his pocket and turned to me, his smirk disappearing to put a business-like face. "Get dressed."

"Wait—hold on. How did you get in here?" I demanded firmly.

"Through the door." He said slowly, as if it was obvious.

"But…but I locked it."

He gave me a well-no-shit look. "A locked door won't stop me from getting in, Claire."

I wrapped my blanket tighter around me, letting out an irritated sigh. "Harry—get out."

"You have two minutes to get dressed," Harry told me, turning to leave my room. "Or else I choose what you get to wear."

I've never gotten dressed so fast in my entire life.

Harry was putting on his jacket by the time I hurried out of my room with fresh clothes. For the second time, I noted how different he looked with the jacket.

"Let's go," Harry said suddenly, "we're going somewhere."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "What if I don't want to go somewhere?"

"I didn't ask if you wanted to go." He replied, picking up a cookie I had on my counter and eating it.

"You can't just order me around." I told him confidently, keeping an eye on him.

He stopped and exhaled loudly and slowly. Then, he turned to me with a deadpan expression. "Claire. I will punish you if you don't come with me right now, no complaints."

I backed up, the sofa separating us. "What're you going to do? Spank me?"

Harry took out his cell phone and set it on the counter. Then he began walking towards me, with long strides. I hurried so that the sofa was separating us. Harry only pushed it out of the way—literally pushed it—and continued walking towards me, his eyes boring into mine.

"W-what're you doing?" I asked, feeling suddenly nervous the closer he got. Where did my confidence from earlier go?

To my dismay, my back met the wall and I realized I had nowhere else to go. Harry covered the short distance between us in mere seconds, and he grabbed me roughly around the waist and caught me in an almost painful kiss. I used my fists to bang against him, but it didn't even faze him. He only pulled me closer and shoved his tongue in my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny.

I was completely helpless and vulnerable underneath him. Right now, there were so many things he could do to me. I could fight him, but that proved to be useless.

What was he going to do to me?

Notes

Hey guys! Thank you all so much for the views! I LOVE YOU ALL! And I'm so happy ya'll like my story :D

I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit short. and Please VOTE THIS STORY FOR A DOUBLE UPDATE TODAY!

And I can't believe Zayn is already 21. Ugh!