Dedicated to MapleLeafx for making me the adorable teaser trailer above, thank you x

WARNING: Unedited but I promised an update tonight x

I ENDED UP WEARING A ridiculous dress that Heather had persuaded me to buy just minutes before leaving the shop. It was a little too short for my liking and almost felt like a second-skin. While looking in the mirror, I felt like I was dressed appropriately for working in a strip-club as opposed to a visiting a dance-club with a friend. Luckily, Heather didn't push me into buying heels. To hell with those contraptions, I opted for the flats at the back of my cupboard. There was no denying that I looked pretty good though.

"Perhaps these heels weren't the best decision," I heard Heather groan from the bathroom.

"Knew it," I muttered as I dropped my lipstick into my bag. "Are you nearly done yet? I need to pee and you've been in there for half an hour. It doesn't take that long to do your eye make-up."

Heather scoffed. "It does if you do it correctly."

Pompous git, I thought as I checked my phone for the time. Our taxi was arriving in just under ten minutes and by the way things were looking, I'd be urinating down my leg halfway to the club.

I tapped away at the screen of my phone, waiting as patiently as I could for her to finish whatever the hell she was doing. My eyes scanned over Harry's name in my contacts and I considered phoning him to see if he were up for a night out. Knowing my luck, he'd say no if I asked. He didn't seem like the type to truly enjoy clubbing anyway.

But then something funny happened. A text from Harry appeared which, confusingly, read:

Harry:
Can't wait to see you tonight. Should be a great time!

I gawked at the screen, completely and utterly baffled. He'd see me? When would he see me and how?

I quickly began to scroll through my messages, looking through my sentbox and inbox, only to find I'd - unbeknown to myself - sent multiple invitations out to join Heather and I at the club. When the hell had that happened? I'd never even considered inviting more folks round.

Then it hit me.

Fuck.

"Heather?" I called through the bathroom door. "Did you use my phone at any point today?"

"Yep," she admitted straight away. "When you went to the bathroom at the coffee house. After you told me about this delicious Harry fella, I thought to myself, 'Why not invite the bloke' just out of curiosity and also because I want you to jump him tonight. Then, to make it seem not too creepy that he was the only one invited, I also asked that Liam chap and the one you mentioned - Louis? - while as well. Fiona someone too. Pretty much just all of your recent contacts."

I felt like a deflated balloon. She did what?

"Why'd you do that?" I asked. "Did you hear nothing I told you this afternoon?"

"Well, let me see. I heard that you're obsessed with this Harry guy, that you want to be with this Harry guy, you love him, you feel guilty for his failed relationship, you like this guy, you really, really like this guy - no, you love this guy. Harry this, Harry that."

I sighed. She was right but putting my love for him aside, impossible as it was, she'd missed the fact that I felt guilty and that I didn't want to do anything that would push me in farther and end up ruining our friendship. Going to a club where there was going to be alcohol, sweaty bodies grinding and pounding music seemed like the perfect and ideal location for shit to happen.

"You bitch," I said as I glanced out the window once again. There was still no sign of the taxi and I hammered my fist against the door. "Get the fuck out and let me in now."

I was surprised when the door flew open and she retreated with her head hung low, almost as if she were guilty, the leopard heels in hand.

Yeah, feel the guilt, bitch, I thought as I stormed into the bathroom to rid myself of a full bladder and a body full of rage.

I WAS STILL FUMING AS the taxi pulled up outside Heather's club of choice. Sure, I was overreacting a little but I was just so angry at the fact she'd told Harry to join us after everything I'd told her. Like, right after I'd told her about feeling guilty and pondering whether or not I wanted something to happen between Harry and I when I felt so much guilt.

I mean, of course I wanted something to happen but deep down I knew it was wrong to want that.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so terrible?

"Are you going to ignore me all night?" Heather asked.

"Yep," I said.

"All night?"

"Yep."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"Positively, one-hundred percent sure?"

"Yep."

"Are you going to ignore Harry too?"

"Y-no."

"Then, that's fine by me," Heather said proudly, linking her arm through mine and tugged me up to the doors of the building. The up-beat monstrosity that was called music could be heard from outside and only once we'd stepped through the doors did my ears fully become victims to the sound. What a racket. That was clubs for you.

"I'm gonna get us drinks," Heather said. "Go find us a booth or a table or just anywhere that's free."

I allowed her to head towards the bar, consciously aware of her pushing her chest out while speaking to the bar tender. It was an old and useful trick we'd learnt during our teenage years. Guys loved an ample bosom being shown every now and then and Heather sure knew how to grab the attention of men.

I slid into a booth that was large enough for eight people just as the previous occupants had stood to leave. I mumbled an apology as I bumped shoulders with a lady with bright red hair. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes could be smelt and Heather seemed to notice too as she slid into the bench opposite me a moment later

"One for ma girl." She placed the glass of alcohol before me. "And one for myself. No sign of anyone else?"

I just shook my head and took a tentative sip, my eyes peeled for any sign of my friends. And Fiona. I didn't really consider her a friend as much as I did a colleague. Louis, Liam and Harry were friends though. Ah, friends. Who didn't love friends? Friends were great.

Not when one of them is the love of your life.

"Drinks are on me tonight," Heather told me. "Figured it was the nicest thing to do considering I stole your phone and such."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Sorry. I was just so pissed."

"No, I completely understand that but you need to lighten up a little. Harry's probably coming, isn't that good?"

I found myself nodded and correcting her as I looked at my phone. "Definitely coming."

"Oh?"

"He messaged me," I said with a shrug. "Not so sure about the others."

There was a brief pause between us, the bar bustling with intoxicated people and the dance floor at the back, full of sweaty, desperate bodies. When Heather spoke again, she was looking over my shoulder and when I turned to see what she was looking at, a small smile crept onto my lips.

"Well, you can be sure now," she said. "I recognise the Liam guy from Starbucks. Is that one Louis?"

I nodded as I welcomed the guys over to the booth with us.

"Hey, lads," I said as Liam slid in beside me and Louis next to Heather. "Glad you could make it."

"Thanks for the invite," Louis said, smiling widely. His eyes crinkled at the sides as he grinned, almost proudly at me. I just glanced at Heather when he mentioned the invitation. "Haven't been to a club in a while. Could never really find the ... uh, motivation to come out."

"I'm lucky that my shift was moved to Sunday nights," Liam said, scratching the back of his head. "I thought I was stuck all weekend."

"You lucky sod," Louis laughed.

"What the hell do you mean 'lucky sod?' You get weekends off anyway!" Liam scoffed as he stood and fished his wallet from his back trouser pocket. "I'm gonna get a drink. Louis, mate."

"Yeah, hang on." Louis gave us a small wave as he stood and followed Liam up to the bar.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Heather turned to me and said, "Jesus, they're cute too. You know all the cute ones."

I just laughed and nodded. "Yeah, they're great guys. Always a laugh."

The two returned minutes later with beers in their hands, chuckling about something I couldn't make out. The music seemed to have gotten louder since we'd arrived and I strongly believed that I'd leave the club deaf.

However, as soon as I looked up to find Harry pushing his way through the crowd, I knew I'd rather be deaf than blind any day, just as long as I could see his beauty, kindness and smile. He looked good in his black jeans and half-buttoned black shirt, almost like a cliché bad-boy from a chick-flick. I didn't mind though - I'd still ravage him if I had the chance.

I gestured for him to join us and he instead he beckoned me over. I glanced at Heather who was talking intently with Liam about the Starbucks menu while Louis was observing me. I caught him smirking at me and just as I was about to ask why he was doing so, he nodded his head in Harry's direction and told me, "Get over there."

You don't need to tell me twice, I thought as I excused myself and pushed through all the sweaty, grinding bodies until I was standing before Harry, a smile on my face.

He was the first to speak. "Hi."

"Hi," I repeated. "Glad you could make it."

"As a matter of fact, so am I," he said, his eyes slowly scanning me from head to toe. Normally, I would have blushed but considering I'd downed an entire glass of alcohol, I felt zero awkwardness. Only lust, because fuck, I wanted that man so badly. In every way. "Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to see you looking this beautiful. Not that you've never been beautiful any other time, I ... I'm just going to shut up before I make myself look even more stupid."

Oh, my God, you beautiful man, you are anything but stupid - you are beautiful, handsome, funny, charming, sexy, cheeky, polite and hopefully you'll be mine one day and I'll be able to say so to your face.

"Thank you," I almost squeaked. "You look amazing too."

"Thanks," he said, glancing down at his very plain yet sexy attire. Half of me wanted to admire him in it while the the half of me wanted to rip it off and behold the wonder beneath. "Do you want to come over and sit with us or-"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd like to dance with me," Harry cut me off.

My face must have been a picture. My daydream of dancing with him came to mind and I quickly nodded to distract him from my rosy cheeks. Without a word, he held out his hand for me and I gently slid my own, rather sweaty, hand into his.

"You're flushed," he commented as he led me through the dance floor, a small smile gracing his features.

"It's the alcohol," I instantly muttered. "Alcohol, way too much alcohol."

"Really?" Harry said. "I only saw a couple glasses on the table."

I shrugged. "I could be a lightweight," I told him with a shrug. Truthfully, as long as he didn't find out that the real reason behind my blush was the idea of him pressing his crotch again me, him thinking I couldn't hold my liquor was good enough for me.

We danced like an elderly couple to begin with; swaying slowly and awkwardly to the opposite kind of music that one would normally sway too. Harry took a quick glance around at the other couples dancing and he sighed.

Do something, Jane! Do something!

But what could I do? Take his hand and pull him close? Nope, too risky and sexy. Wrap my arms around his neck? Nope - I'd probably kiss him. Tell him to dance with me like they do in Dirty Dancing? Pfft, no chance in Hell.

So instead I glanced around and tried to absorb some of the dirtier dance moves I saw all of the other dancers busting. Soon, I began to sway my hips lower and in time to the music, completely and unfortunately aware that I looked like a total moron. I didn't care though, because Harry smiled at me and unexpectedly reached out to pull my hips towards his.

Oh, holy fucking Christ, give me breath.

"I-I'm not the best dancer," I managed to say - nearly moan - as his lower half pressed against my own.

"Oh, on the contrary," Harry mused, his head lowering to the crook of my neck so he could whisper, "I think you're the best."

If I had ever been turned on in my life, never had any previous time compared to there on the dance-floor. Every inch of me was on fire, craving - begging - Harry to smother me and make me feel alive. Despite the loud, obscene music blaring around us and the many distractions, I still managed to remain focused on Harry. I could hear him clear as day, feel him easily through the layers of clothing between us and see his perfection with ease. He was amazing, he was there and he was my world.

"Harry," I mumbled.

His head slowly lifted from my shoulder, his body swaying and grinding against my own. There was something in his eyes. No trace of sadness at all and I was glad about that. But there was something else though - I assumed confusion. He was confused about why I - Heather - had invited him, why we were dancing so scandalously, why I had drawn him so many times, why I always lit up when we hung out... It had to be complete confusion and question.

"Hm?" he replied, one of his hands leaving my waist to cup my cheek, his calloused finger-tips brushing against my flushed skin. He was so close, so unbelievably close to me and I could feel his breath on my face. If only it were his lips on my face.

"I..." My sentence was never finished, however. I was too distracted by Harry's face leaning closer to mine. Was he going to kiss me? When his eyes momentarily darted to my lips and his eyes slowly began to close did I realise I was right - he was going to kiss me. The alcohol in my system diminished every trace of guilt I'd felt earlier. 

Holy fuck, it's happening, Jane. Who cares if you made a stupid but selfish wish? Who cares if you're an awkward, obsessed freak? Who cares if felt guilty only a couple hours ago? Who bloody cares if-

Just as my own eyes began to shut, everything was ruined.

An burly man stumbled backwards and knocked me to the ground, my two left feet rendering me useless as I tripped and landed in an ungraceful heap.

Harry was quick to come to my aid, pulling me up and dusting me off as he asked if I were OK.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said as I glared at the man who had started to walk away. "I'm OK."

"That fucking bastard," Harry said through his teeth. I looked at him - and there it was, the anger I'd not seen since the day he'd spilled his heart out to me in the coffee shop. The rage so fierce it was almost like the fire within him. Then I realised that he'd never had the chance to release his inner rage and I was frightened about the following events. "I'm gonna get him."

"No, you're not," I told him, pressing a hand to his chest as he made a move to go after the drunk guy. "Leave it, Harry, Please."

I was unheard. Harry carefully pushed through the crowd with a determined scowl on his face until he grabbed the man by the collar and whirled him round so they were face to face.

"I think you should apologise for knocking her over," Harry said, letting the man go to cross his arms over his chest.

With bleary eyes, the man looked at me and scoffed, almost in disgust. "I don't think so. It was an accident."

Harry looked sick as he let out a sarcastic laugh. "Exactly why you should apologise."

"Harry," I warned. "It's fine."

"Yeah, it's fine," the man repeated with a victorious grin, almost mocking the situation. "I'll be off now."

"I don't think so-" Harry started, his hand reached out to land on the guy's shoulder. 

What happened next was completely unexpected and left me wide-eyed in shock. In the blink of an eye, the drunk man whirled round with his fist raised, aimed straight for Harry's face. There was nothing I could do in time so stop the struggle and soon, Harry had stumbled back and fallen to the floor, his nose bleeding. He grunted multiple times as his hand flew up to his nose.

"Fuck!" he gasped.

"Harry, oh, my God!" I bent down to his side, my hands flailing about, unsure what to do. I glanced up at the drunk man who was staring down at us with bleary eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He said nothing and turned to walk away.

"Get back here," Harry yelled as he struggled to his feet. "You prick! There's no need to get physical for fuck sake, you absolute knob!" 

For a moment, I was scared that Harry would be struck once again but I was quick to put myself between him and the drunk man to make sure no one else got hurt. Harry's hands suddenly reached out and took hold of my shoulders, gently pulling me to the side as if he were trying to protect me.

"Harry, stop," I warned him, giving him the most threatening look I could muster. It was ever so difficult, glaring at the man you loved. I had no choice though. I knew how protective he was of his family and friends - he was just that kind of person to stick up for everyone no matter what. The mere fact he was sticking up for me made butterflies erupt within me. If the situation had been a little different, I would have smiled. "Please."

"Jane," he mumbled, frowning at me. He almost looked like he was in pain both physically and emotionally. 

"C'mon," I said as I pulled him backwards towards our booth.

Then everything seemed to become a whole lot worse. One minute I was clinging to Harry and the next we were separated. He became lost in a mass of shuffling bodies and my head began to spin. Hands clamped down on my forearms and tugged me backwards, the familiar smell of Heather's strong perfume infiltrating my nostrils.

"Heather! Where's Harry? Can you see him?" I gasped as I stood on my toes and searched for his head of unruly curls. My vision was slightly blurred. "Heather-"

"Jane, he'll be fine. We need to leave. Police were called about a fight out back and they're coming here now," she said. "Louis and Liam are fine too."

"But Harry's hurt-" 

"Jane, he'll be fine. I promise you."

Knowing deep down that she was right, I very reluctantly allowed her to pull me towards the door, my heart racing. Where was he? My panic only increased when I turned to look at the people scattering from the club and I managed to lock eyes with Harry one last time before Heather tugged me out the door.