Rebuilding Zerrie

KLOE'S P.O.V.

The bass of the music was blasting throughout the club. My heart danced to its beat while my eyes were processing the overwhelming sight.

My sister, Maegan, and I entered Club Hopeless wearing the nicest party dresses we could find last minute and thick layers of makeup which was my work of art, we were not expecting this much chaos. We had always pictured clubs and parties in our heads and seen them in movies, but we never imagined how disgustingly awesome it was.

"Let's get ourselves smashed!" I yelled at my sister through the noise.

The moment I came in contact with alcohol, I completely lost it, but drinking wasn't as fun as I thought it would be, either. It just got me really dizzy and unbalanced and out of my mind. I wasn't able to control my actions or what I was saying. The creeps that approached us looked almost thirty and were probably just one night stands.

"How do you like the DJ?" this old guy smiled at me.

I tried to be polite and smile back, "He's alright. Pretty loud, though."

"That's the point," he touched my arm. Chills ran up my arm and down my spine. "Let me buy you a drink," he offered.

"Uhm," I thought hard of an excuse to say and went for the worst possible cover up ever. "Yeah? Maegan? Oh sure, I'm coming!" I pretended my sister was calling me and apologized to the man before walking away. I wreched as I turned around.

Dancing with random guys and flirting with the young guys was fun, though. But some conversations went really short like,

"Do you like One Direction?"

"No."

But there was one that went on for so long. There was something in his deep, raspy voice that made me want to hear it all day. A slow song went on and I wrapped my arms around his neck, caressing his dark brown curls. I closed my eyes and inhaled everything that was happening.

Hey Jude playing in the background.

The entire club tame for my special moment.

The guy humming along with it.

The fact that I didn't even know his name.

"John Lenon and Paul McCartney, you freaking geniuses," I smiled at him.

He smiled back, revealing dimples. He was adorable, he wasn't perverted and he wasn't thirty. That was probably the best part on my evening so far. I had ruin everything by vomiting on him.

"Oh my gosh," I was so braindead. I had no idea what to say, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't sweat it," he said casually, "I'll just wipe it off. No biggie." But I knew it was, because I never saw him the rest of the night. Must have ran off from creeps like me.

Almost eleven, I couldn't find Maegan nor One Direction anywhere. Maybe her sources were wrong. What if we got ourselves drunk for nothing? Losing hope, I sat down at the bar. I fished for my phone in my pocket and tried to call Maegan, but she didn't pick it up.

Another creep sat down next to me and I cringed. I cursed under my breath. Just what I needed.

He mumbled something that I could not fathom. "Come again?" I asked.

"Your eyeliner's running down your face," he repeated more clearly.

Alarmed, I wiped my cheek and saw the black gel smeared on my finger. "Great," I groaned at my stained finger, "Way to make my night even better."

Desperately trying to get away from him, I called my sister over and over.

"Here, hand it to me," he told me, "I got this. Who do you want to call?"