❝𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲❞

1.

DELILAH

I'm not really a party person. I mean, I am, until around the one-hour mark when I start getting overwhelmed and suddenly want to leave. Which is exactly how I'm feeling now.

Seeing celebrities I've spent my whole life looking up to getting piss drunk and acting like crazy people at this high-end bar in London, is an absolutely surreal experience. But what I've truly gathered in the hour I've been at this Brits Awards Afterparty is that British people are absolutely wild.

Squished between a C-list rapper I somehow started dancing with and some girl I've never seen before in my life on the dance floor, I whip my head around to try and find the familiar face of Lucy, making a beeline toward her as I spot her platinum blonde hair in the crowd. Pushing through so many of my childhood idols, I tap her on the shoulder, her blue eyes meeting mine as she turns.

"Del! What's up?" she asks, and I notice someone's hand on her waist. Though he looks vaguely familiar, I'm in no state to be racking my mind for his name.

"I'm just going to go outside and get some fresh air, alright?" I shout back at her through the loud music and singing, pulling my tight black minidress down anxiously. Her eyebrows furrow slightly.

"Ok... I'll come with you," she says, pulling away from the mystery man, who stares at me in offence. Or, I think it's in offence? The strobing lights make it hard to make out his features, and in my tipsy state, they make me feel slightly dizzy. Maybe I've had one too many shots.

"No, no, don't worry. You should be celebrating," I assure her quickly, hinting at her Best Song of the Year award she just received. "I won't be long, I promise." She tilts her head slightly, looking at me with concern.

"Del-"

"I'm fine, seriously. I'll see you later, yeah?" She nods somewhat reluctantly as I rub her shoulder quickly in reassurance and turn around to push my way back through the crowd.

I crane my neck through the many heads bopping up and down to the music and spot the back door, walking toward it quickly with my head down. As I'm about ten steps away, I feel someone grab my wrist.

"Hey, Delilah Hart?" I turn my head to face a guy about my age with blonde hair and blue eyes, slightly red and sweaty from dancing, suit and tie completely disheveled. He looks vaguely familiar.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about your loss today. Red Lipstick Love was genuinely one of my favorite songs this year. I honestly wish we did music like that," he says loudly over the noise, and I pick up a faint Irish accent.

We? I stare at him for a few seconds before it clicks.

"DOA!" I shout suddenly, making him flinch slightly. "Sorry," I add quickly, "Where I knew you from just clicked."

"Uh... yeah, that's me," he adds awkwardly. "Niall, nice to meet you," he shakes out his hand. Who does that anymore? I shake it.

"Thanks, Niall. Congratulations to you and the boys on Best Album, definitely deserved, it's a masterpiece," I return the compliment. I've never listened to a single song of theirs voluntarily in my life.

"Yeah, thanks," he shrugs. "I just thought I'd introduce myself. I'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"Yeah, for sure. Catch you later," I breathe a sigh of relief as he joins his bandmates once again, jumping up and down with his hands in the air. He's a sweet guy, but I don't need to be reminded of the loss.

Turning back to the door, I grab the handle and yank it open, stepping out into a quiet road. The cold wind hits me like a ton of bricks as the door closes behind me and the noise inside becomes muffled. I breathe a huge sigh of relief; despite the piercing cold air, it's definitely a reality check from whatever the hell was back in that bar.