#114- Bad Pickup Lines
Ashton: You hated house parties. But you loved your best friend, who dragged you along to one that was being thrown by one of their friends in uni. And that's why you were sitting alone on a well-worn couch with a nearly untouched bottle of warm beer in your hand. Some early-2000's pop punk song was playing over the sound system, almost drowning out the obnoxious chatter among students.
Weight on the couch shifted, and you looked to see a cute boy of about your age sat beside you.
"Do you mind if i stare at you up close? Instead of from across the room?"
You laughed and nodded. He introduced himself as Ashton, and you two hit it off. You seemed to connect with him, laughing as he made jokes and told stories. However, he seemed to be able to sense that you were out of your element and offered a kind smile.
"Do you wanna get out of here with me?"
Luke: Clubs were definitely your scene. You loved the drinks, dancing, and the bass of the music shaking the walls. There was one thing that everyone had in common: they all wanted to have a good time.
You'd made your way to the dance floor almost immediately, intoxicated by the mass of moving bodies. You were currently dancing with a cute blonde with blue eyes, who you'd learned is named Luke. He had his hands on your hips as they swayed to the beat of the song that was playing. Your back was flush against his chest, your arms around his neck. You felt his breath hot against your ear as he said just loud enough for you to hear over the music:
"How does it feel to be the prettiest girl in the room?"
You blushed, smiling and turning around to plant your hands on his chest. "Pretty damn good if it means that i get to dance with you all night." You told him, and that you did.
Michael: "Hey babe! If i flipped a coin, what are my chances of getting head?"
You heard the cat-call from behind you, and turned around quickly. The taunts and whistles in the pub were getting to be way too much for you to handle. There was a football game playing on the multiple TVs around the place, which meant that there were plenty of drunken, rowdy sports fans milling around the establishment and disturbing people like you who were just there for a drink.
You furiously glared at the boy who was currently smirking at you and dumped the remainder of your beer over his head. "Zero, shithead." You hissed, shoving past him. You made your way to the door, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you. "Hey, I'm sorry. That crossed a line."
His grip wasn't forceful. You could've gotten away if you wanted to, but you actually wanted to hear what he had to say. "Please, just let me start over, ok? I was riled up, and i shouldn't have said that." He continued. "I'm Michael."
You told him your name, and he smiled when you poked him in the chest and added "You owe me a beer, buddy."
Calum: You stood outside of the club, putting on your coat to fend off the chilly night air.You could hear a group of boys noisily approaching, and you turned when you heard someone call out to you. It was one of the boys in the group, stumbling towards you, and visibly impaired.
"Babe, You smell like trash, can i take you out?" The boy slurred, and you glowered at him. "Excuse me?"
His friends apologized over and over again, holding him up so he wouldn't fall face-first in the pavement. You felt almost bad for wanting to hit him a second ago, because even you couldn't really control what came out of your mouth while you were drunk.
And, you had to admit that he was pretty cute, even though he was red-faced and obviously having trouble staying on his feet. you strolled over to one of his friends and handed him your number that was scribbled down onto a slip of paper. "Have him call me once he sobers up." You said with a wink, and the next morning, you received a text that read simply:
From Unknown: I'm sorry for last night. Let me start over.
From Unknown: I'm Calum.
