Chapter 2

Emma

He was leaving as I walked him to the door.

"Bye." I blurted, but my mum cut me off.

"Emma, be nice." Harry only chuckled.

"She's fine. Teenagers. Oh, um, before I leave, I have a job for you if you're up for it." I narrowed my eyes in curiosity.

"Is it paid?" He nodded, making me say yes instantly.

"Good, I need a babysitter on Saturdays and Sundays." Are you fucking shitting me? How can I take care of a baby if I can't even take care of myself?

"He's four years old, and his name is Tyler." Oh, at least he's not two or eight. It can't be too hard.

"Okay yeah, I'll be there." He gave me his address and his number since I'll need to call him or whatever. I ran back up to my room to shower to get ready for tonight. I had other plans to do other than homework. I got pulled out of school because I was never there, and now I'm being homeschooled for my senior year of high school. I'm so stoked. All my friends get to be together, and I only get to them on the weekends when we are all drunk. I guess they aren't my friends but the people I party with on the weekends.

My parents looked at me.

"What?" Seriously they are so far up my ass; it's annoying.

"He's only trying to help." He'd only do it because he's getting paid. My parents are paying him a lot. I'm sure of it. He's got better things to do then help me get my grades up. I can do it myself. I'm grown-ish.

I head back in my room.

"Emma, don't forget your homework." I closed my door, ignoring her, and headed to my bathroom. While I got the shower ready, I pull out what I was going to wear. A red and black flannel printed skirt that had a zipper down the middle, along with a pair of heeled boots, and a white cropped top. The water was hot against my skin as I scrubbed and shaved.

Getting out and getting dressed quickly, I snuck out of the house. It's hard in heels and a skirt, but I did. I park my car on the side of the street and not the driveway, so my parents don't know when I've left or come back.

Speeding off down the road, I made it to the party. We call it our back to school bash, really just an excuse to throw a party. Now I can relax. Shoving people out of my way, I grabbed the bottle of tequila. A very stereotypical alcoholic beverage you find at a teenage party.

"Hey, that was mine." A girl I know, as Liz said, but I kindly flipped her off and told her to fuck off. I have gotten in fights with her and won, and she still trying to pick battles with me. Do I have to beat your ass again???

I'm kind of a bitch in these parts of town. My parents hate to say it, but they are embarrassed by me. I'm not an idiot. I'd be too if I were my kid. I opened the bottle and guzzled it down and let myself go — my time to get away from life. I mostly drink my days away. I drink to forget, but I always remember. It's very backward, but I still drink because then, I forget how to feel.

As the night went on, I forgot what it was like to see or walk well, so I took off my heels and knew that I was in no way in condition to drive. I'll just come back here or crash. I left alone, thank god and started down the road. I mean, to me, drinking was better than relapsing on pills and self-harm. It's the same thing, but I just never saw myself downhill with alcohol-- yet.

My feet hurt a lot, and I couldn't fucking see straight, and that was annoying me. I groaned in annoyance, not sure where I was or where I am heading. I need to get home and needed fresh air. Maybe if I called a sober friend, they could give me a ride back home. I pulled my phone out and squinted at the screen. Yup, I am fucked up, and I am gone. Plopping down on the curb, I let my head fall to my knees. I felt like I was going to throw up. Going out was a mistake. I should've stayed home and done my stupid math homework. You know why is math the only homework? Better question, why does math give homework? Not like I'll get what's going when I get home. Teacher logic, I don't understand that either.

"Need a lift?" My head shot up to make sure I didn't hear things, but to my dismay, I wasn't. There he was, Professor Styles. I didn't say anything to him, just stared blankly at him. Why is he out at two AM? I have one of two reasons: he was out cheating if he has a wife, or he's a drug dealer. Those were my opinions.

"Did you hear me?" I just stared. I know he will drive me home, so I stayed put and didn't say anything. The road became more interesting to look at as the ants crawled up and down the cracks. I heard the doors unlock and a door open. I sighed and debated on getting in with him. Technically, he is still a stranger, and stranger danger isn't right. To spite him, I got up and walked further down the road and sat down again. His truck drove slowly to get me back, and I moved once more.

"Emma, you're drunk and alone. It's either your mum or me." He had a good point, but this is how I was going to spend my wasted free time. I still wasn't speaking to him, mostly because my speech was beyond slurred, I didn't feel like talking because of it, and three, I'm testing his limits.

"Please, Emma. I'd hate to see someone else pick you up." I got up and slowly got in. I'm only doing this to shut him up. His attire was utterly different from what I saw him today, or yesterday or whatever. Instead of a black suit, he wore skinny black jeans, black boots with a white button-down, with at least three or four buttons undone. I could see his sunkissed skin with tattoos. He cleared his throat, making me look at his green eyes. He has dreamy green eyes. I need to calm down, I am drunk, and my inhibitions are gone. But I didn't think a man in his thirties could look so, so, so hot. Am I weird to think that? I can't be the only one who thinks he's hot.

"I'm not taking you home." That surprised me more than anything. I looked at him with wide eyes and lifted eyebrows. I'm shocked; I am.

"Why?" I finally spoke, but my voice was raspy and raw. He only looked over at me and smirked. I'm going to get murdered. I can feel it in my impaired gut.

"Relax I'm not gonna kill you, Emma, you need water and to rest."

Oh, thank the heavens. I'll live. The rest of the ride was silent as he pulled into a two-story house. He got out and went to my side and pulled the door open. I stepped out slowly, but with his help and hung on to him. My balance was out of the question. He dug in his pocket for his house key and unlocked the door. I took a step and slipped, making him catch me. His arm hooked under my legs and lifted me.

"I gotcha." I could feel his biceps. He's strong, making him even hotter. My head rested on his shoulder as I let out a heavy sigh. He huffed as I saw goosebumps rise. A giggle left my lips. Is he seriously turned on by me breathing on his neck?

"Professor Styles, are you cold?" He grunted before opening a door.

"No." His voice strained a little.

"Then why do you have goosebumps?" I wanted to hear him say it. God, I hate who I am while drunk because I am different every time. I could happy, sad, angry, laughing, or horny. It was all tonight.

"Because you are breathing on my neck." I sighed as he closed the door and looked to my eyes. God, his eyes up close, is an actual turn on alone. Like I said, big-dick energy. My head back to his shoulder, and I purposely breathed on his neck, making a low growl escape his lips.

"Emma, I need to get to bed." Mhmm sure. He placed me on the bed before he rummaged through a closet and pulled out a shirt.

"Here." He handed me a pair of boxers and a black t-shirt. I took it and thanked him quietly as he looked to me once more.

"Do you need help." His voice was shaky like he shouldn't be asking me.

"No," I said while trying to undo this stupid zipper. I am stubborn, and I hate to admit when I need help or when I am wrong.

"Here." He stepped closer, and I felt his hands to my zipper. The zipper is in the front. He pulled it down, letting it open and fall. His breath was heavy now. His eyes still on mine. Is it bad I want to fuck him, fuck him hard? I'm still a virgin, but is it wrong?

"My shirt." I tested. His hands to the hem of my shirt, I lifted my arms and let him take off my shirt. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't horny.

I turned around for him.

"Fuck." He said oh so quietly. I felt his hands slither up my back to my bra clip and unhook it with one hand. It slipped off, and I let it fall to the ground. I turned around to face him, but his eyes stayed on mine. I didn't care really. My eyes to his exposed chest and stomach make my skin tingle. My eyes dropped lower to see he had a tent in his jeans. I took in my lower lip at sight.

"Good night... Emma." He had the shirt in his hands, and I took it. Slipping it on, he raked his eyes along my now covered body.

"Good night Harry." He turned away quickly and left the room. I got in the bed and turned off the lamp and shit, my eyes falling asleep fairly quickly.