disclaimer: this book will contain heavy sexual content and mature language. trigger warnings will be posted at the top of each chapter as necessary
this book is an original story by me. any similarities are pure coincidence.
happy reading:)
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March 12, 2016
I applied the final coat of my vibrant red lipstick, admiring the result with a confident smirk in the club bathroom mirror. Adjusting my little black dress, I stepped out, feeling out of place in this unfamiliar scene. Before this very moment, I wouldn't be caught dead at the bar all alone. But tonight is different, fueled by frustration and anger. I'm not one to drink, I'm not one to swear, and I am most certainly not one for hookups, but tonight I'm going to get fucking wasted and with any luck, go home with a stranger. I'm choosing to embrace the feminine rage accompanying the end of my four year long relationship. He never deserved me anyway so I'll be treating myself to a solo night at an upscale LA nightclub.
I soon find myself at the bar, perched on an empty barstool ordering an aperol spritz on the rocks. One sip of the clear liquid and I'm reminded of why I don't drink. It's vile, absolutely disgusting. I've tried, oh lord, trust me, I've tried to like it, yet no matter how fruity or expensive it is, I hate it all the same. It's bitter, it burns, and it all tastes like hospital to me; those goddamned alcohol wipes scarred me as a child. It's a shame considering I have to endure many boring events that I'm sure would be much more exciting with a buzz.
As the minutes tick away, I sigh, swirling the liquid around in it's glass. The ice cubes dance around inside as my confidence slowly slips away like the water droplets dripping off the side of the glass onto my fingertips. But just as I'm about to give up on whatever I've been subconsciously waiting for and just go home to wallow in some post-breakup pity, someone occupied the stool next to mine. I ignored their presence until I heard him speak.
My head immediately whips in his direction as he orders his whiskey sour. I realized after the action had occurred, how obvious the gesture was, but I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Why wouldn't I? It's not uncommon to encounter celebrities here in LA, I just wasn't expecting Harry Styles.
He's clad in all black, long hair pushed back and hidden by a hood, presumably to conceal his identity.
Once he had thanked the bartender, he turned to me, growing smirk on his face as he lets out a chuckle.
"S'rude to stare, love,"
"Sorry," I mumble sheepishly, looking back down to the drink in my glass. "Just curious what someone like you was doing in a place as public as this." I admitted, It's only been a few short months since the world's beloved One Direction split for an indefinite amount of time. Eighteen months if I remember correctly. I thought they were trying to lay low for a little while, isn't that the whole point of a break?
