CHASING THE ATLANTIC | H.S

I.

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I'm gonna leave you either way if you stay with me, so go and tell him that I never existed

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I. I NEVER EXISTED

Charlotte pushed her eyelashes up and puckered her lips, the loud bass of the club vibrating the mirror and making her face blurry. Hannah was using the restroom just beside her, drunkenly holding the counter to steady herself. The walls were a crimson red, the lights a buttery, dim yellow. The club itself was more expensive than the ones she usually frequented, but it was Niall's birthday—and Niall was extra.

"Charlotte," Hannah whined loudly. Charlotte giggled at her friend's inebriated state, helping Hannah tug her skirt down her thighs so she wasn't flashing the entirety of the club once they stepped out from the bathroom—the bathroom that was currently being banged on by another slew of drunk girls.

"One second!" Charlotte yelled over the loud music and Hannah's uncontrollable giggles. "Hannah, go wash up, I need to dance. I love this song!" She was rushing to smudge her lipstick into more blended lines around her cupid's bow, putting her free hand up in the air and shuffling around the sticky tile of the bathroom, singing along to a rap song she could barely hear over the blinding bass.

By the time they were stumbling out of the bright bathroom and back into the dark, multicolored dance floor, the girls waiting were about ready to kill them. With drunken apologies flying from Charlotte's mouth and Hannah trudging behind with her body parts flailing around messily to the beat of the song, they seemed like a giant mess. "Need to find Niall and friends," Hannah had to yell over the music. "I wanna order food! They have food here, right?"

Charlotte shrugged as she peeked at her friend over her shoulder, pulling the top of her black, strapless dress up. A baby pink bow sat right at her cleavage, the same color creating a lacy hem on the short dress—so short, if Charlotte moved wrong she would be wearing a strapless top and a lacy red thong as an outfit.

Finding their friends at a booth, Charlotte stumbled over to them and pressed the palms of her hands against the table to stable herself. "We're back!" She sang happily, though frowned when she noticed her seat across from the birthday boy was occupied by a figure who wasn't there when they left.

Her eyes followed up from his low waisted, tight dress pants—they were a color other than black, but in the lighting, she couldn't figure out what color—to his black silk dress shirt that was unbuttoned almost halfway down his chest and exposing dark ink across his hard muscles. When she got to his face, she swore she must be way drunker than she thought. He was gorgeous.

He had hard set features—straight eyebrows, raspberry lips drawn in an intimidating line, and bright eyes that seemed to catch every detail of his surroundings. "Hi, I'm Charlotte," she greeted happily, holding out her hand for him to shake; a bit too formal for their setting, but she thought it was a good idea for such a strict-looking, gorgeous man.

He cracked a smile at her gesture, though took her small hand in his rough, calloused one until he enveloped it in a warm sensation that made her giddy. "Harry—I work with Niall," he nodded to his friend, who grinned happily and very drunkenly at the mention of his name.

"Cool! You work at the autobody shop?" Charlotte's doe brown eyes widened in surprise, her long chestnut-colored hair straightened to perfection with wisps of bangs falling over her smokey eyed expression. Her hair was flat and shimmering in the light, her black eyeshadow so perfectly dark it made her look like she was straight out of a 'bad girl gone wild!' magazine from two decades ago.