"I look ridiculous."

Huffing, I looked down at the black leggings I'm wearing (that supposedly belong to Harry's older sister, though I don't know why he would have her leggings in the back of his band's van) and Harry's huge long-sleeved Rolling Stones tee that's too big for my upper body so its hem covers the upper half of my thighs-barely covering my butt-and its sleeves reached longer than the tips of my fingers, the neck opening sliding off my shoulders-exposing my bra straps. In addition to all that extravaganza, the oversized t-shirt had small holes scattered all over the fabric, showing my skin some more.

Don't ask me how I got dressed in that van, I strongly believe I had misplaced a vertebrae somewhere along my backbone.

"No, you...don't," Harry trailed off as his eyes scanned me lingering on my legs and shoulders before he swallowed. "You look...not ridiculous."

I smirked at the effect I had on him, making him fumble for words. "Yeah?" I raised my eyebrows.

His jades focused back on my eyes and he gave me a pointed look, taking a step towards me. "Oh, don't give me that smirk, I'm this-" he put his index and thumb close to each other, "-close to setting fires."

"S-Setting fires?"

"Between us,"

And I know what he means. The past more-than-two hours he's been throwing too much metaphors for my average human brain to register. Ones like smearing the sunset over my skin, and how I look like I have swallowed the sun, or how the moon had been waiting in the corner of my eyes for the sun to disappear.

I mean, sure, he's a songwriter. He's somewhat of a poet.

He's been talking with me for the past two hours and, after all of that, I still don't get any creep vibes from him.

And so when he said that line, I weirdly got it.

Setting fires would be normal behavior between two flammable substances. We are two flammable substances, uncontrollably drawn to each other like two magnets for no apparent reason.

And I just met him.

My subconscious is tsk-ing at me but I shove her back and her image is clouded by the green eyes that stare right into mine and the voice that fills my ears like a symphony.

"And I really am scoring an ultimate all-time record containing myself till now, so don't push it." He's all dominant and I'm all smiles and he's frowning but he's also grinning. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I don't know, because this is Fifty Shades of Yellow Cheese." I roll my eyes.

His grin widens. "Yellow cheese?"

"Yeah, I'm basically a Prom Runaway now and I'm standing right here in your clothes after two hours of meeting you and- Doesn't this seem a bit, I don't know, strange to you?"

"Does it matter if it's strange or weird or even crazy?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest. "This is fun is all. You were crying two hours ago and now you're standing right here in my clothes -which look absolutely fucking sexy on you, by the way- and you're laughing. That's the best it could get."

"I-... No. Guess it doesn't fucking matter." I said, ignoring the blush creeping onto my cheeks and attempting to laugh it off by mocking him.

"Exactly," he winks. "Love the sass."

"Yeah, but you are probably missing your performance and your friend is right over there," I glance at the guy standing at the door leading to the basketball team locker room (which they use like a backstage area) that I creeped out the corner of my eyes. "And I don't particularly think he looks happy."

"Shit," Harry squints one eye as if grimacing. "Okay, let's go."

"Where?"

"Uh, I have a few songs to sing," he raised his eyebrows. "You could wait...for me?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"You will?" Harry furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head a little to the side in slight confusion. I'm still having trouble breathing from our proximity and, really, his presence.

"Yes, Harry," I raised an eyebrow. "Did you want to get rid of me so soon?"

"I thought I'd creeped you out with my poetic self."

"Did you want to?"

"No, but... to be honest, I sometimes creep myself out, you know?"

"That's understandable," I tease, shrugging with a nod. Harry puts on a fake grim and wounded face on.

"Heyyy-"

"No, I'm kidding," I laugh at his reaction. "Come on, then. You don't want the Lethal Petals to lose a Petal now, do you?"

"Nope, definitely do not want that." Harry grins and leads our way inside.

Inside is chaos. And by inside, I don't mean only inside the building, but inside me. My stomach is tickled and my heart has bruised my ribcage by how hard it's pumping against it and I keep biting my cheeks from the inside and I'm chaos.

This night has turned from normal boring prom party to hanging out with cool poetic band member and I'm chaos.

I have turned from a quiet, non-problematic, anti-social little Aurora to an Aurora that strings along with complete strangers at her prom party and dresses in their own freaking clothes after two hours of meeting them and I'm chaos.

And he is gorgeous and he wants me to string along and spend this chaotic night with him and I don't mind because he is here and the people who I thought were friends aren't here and I almost bloody kissed him, I almost bloody kissed a stranger because I'm chaos.

But maybe we aren't strangers. We'd already covered that. He's Harry and I'm Chaos and we're not strangers.