Notorious

Desperation

Bright lights. Thumping base. Loud shouting. Endless shots. Glazed eyes. Sloppy movements. Pounding head. Scorching throat.

It's a scene I used to be accustomed to –one that I welcomed not too long ago. Now, the familiar scene of the club has me feeling sick. The bar stool is uncomfortable and the bartender is way too flirty for my taste and I just want to leave.

But, then I remember Harry's rejection and my mind replays my mother's inability to care about any detail of my life and suddenly I want to stay exactly where I am.

"Can you stop ogling my breasts and bring me a shot of whiskey?" I snap at the burly man, to which he smirks and quickly caters to my request despite the waiting people at the bar, "Keep 'em coming."

I down my second shot for the night, welcoming the burn that slides down my throat and quickly take the third from his grasp, tossing that one back just as quickly.

"Now, this is a sight I haven't witnessed in a while."

The silky voice instantly has me spinning in my stool to face him, but the action dizzies me. Whiskey tends to fuck me up really quickly considering its potency and my limited stature. And that's all I really care about.

I'm met with icy blue eyes, a notorious smirk, messy brown locks pushed to the side, and an array of tattoos. Although my heart squeezes painfully at the sight of the man I once loved, the excitement that fills me overpowers it.

"Took you long enough to get here – had to start without you." I smirk, tilting my head to the side in a pout as m flirty persona instantly takes over.

Louis's smirk grows at the tone of my voice and he easily slips into the stool next to me, "Guess I should catch up then."

And just like that, it's like we never broke up.

Like the last eight months had never happened. Like he didn't cheat on me any chance he got. Like he didn't destroy any confidence I had. Like he didn't constantly manipulate me into doing whatever he asked, only to degrade me later.

No, all of that seems to be wiped from my memory as I toss back shot after shot with him; clinking our glasses together, gossiping about our old friends, and constantly sending each other flirty little grins.

Just how we used to be.

In the back of my mind I know that this is a mistake, that this will just set back my progress. I know that Louis doesn't deserve any of my time and that I should just splash my shot in his face and leave.

I just don't want you to get the wrong idea.

How are you and that... that boy with the tattoos? Lewis something or other?

I toss back my fifth shot, slamming the glass on the table and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Spill." Our easy banter halts and Louis's grin turns into a serious frown as he turns in his chair to face me completely. I'm taken aback by his somber attitude and avoid his intense stare as I play with the lace of my dress.

The same dress that Harry touched me in. The thought made my stomach churn.

"Spill what?"

"Don't play dumb. I can read you like a book – always could. You wouldn't just call me up here for fun, I know that. Something happened."

"Don't act like you care." I snap, finally meeting his gaze just in time to catch his face falling at my words.

He shakes his head furiously before grasping the small glass, bringing it to his lips, and downing the liquor in one straight shot - his adam's apple bobbing with the gulp. It's oddly hot. He's hot. I'm really drunk.