Cut Ropes (A One Direction Fanfiction)

1: First Impressions

It’s one of those nights where I know that I will not remember anything tomorrow. The best part about these nights is that I couldn’t care less. So what if I like to go out and party? Is that so illegal? I like to have fun. Everyone likes to have fun. Everyone just has their own sort of fun. My sort of fun includes drinking, dancing, getting lost, going on adventures, and causing ruckuses. I don’t mind causing trouble because I never end up in trouble in the long run. I’m Logan Passender, I don’t get in trouble, I am trouble. I wear short skirts and dresses, high heels that I can barely walk in, I cover all my insecurities with make-up that’s extremely inexpensive, I probably try to do a sexy lip bite way too often, and I’m living my life how I want to live it. You wouldn’t have guessed that your quiet little high school AP English student would kick ass at parties now, would you? No one ever really does.

I hate when people think I automatically must not care about my life and get bad grades and do drugs and sleep with random guys just because I like to party. My grades are one of the highest in this university’s, and I never do drugs on purpose. Alcohol is a different story. But, most importantly, my private parts are strictly that: private. I’m not a virgin, but that’s only because I was in a serious relationship for a good part of high school and we took it to that level because we had been dating a while and felt we were ready. We broke it off right after graduation due to the fact that we would be moving quite far from each other and wanted to explore different things. I wasn’t too upset about it, I was up for an adventure.

Unlike myself, my roommate is extremely concaved and doesn’t see sunlight unless she is walking from class to class. We share an on-campus flat that serves as a dorm but is much larger, and much more expensive. It’s two stories with two bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs, and a kitchen and living room downstairs; pretty nice.

It is sort of separated from all of the really lame dorm rooms, but surrounded in a neighborhood type of community of other nice dorm/flats. This is where all the parties happen, which is one of my favorite parts about living here.

I can only afford it because I work my ass off selling song lyrics and stories to authors and singers who will never give me credit. I don’t really mind it as long as I get my money.

My roommate, Haley, is extremely smart. She’s a mathematician or something like that. I hate math.

We are pretty much complete opposites, which makes it very difficult to get along sometimes, but getting kicked out has its perks. For example, I’ve learned how to spend a night in the park, crash at random neighbor’s houses, and have made me some wanted, and unwanted, friends.  

The only time my room in our flat is quiet is either when I’m not home or I’m working on my writing. My minor is music theory/music composition so it’s needless to say I’m always singing or doing something of that sort, whether it sounds good or not.

Haley gets very irritated by my very presence. It’s actually quite entertaining.

Well, it was entertaining, until tonight. I took it a little too far by banging on pots and pans and using it as an excuse to come up with a new rhythm for a mix I have to create for class. In reality, I was just bored and found it amusing.

Haley didn’t find it as amusing as I did, and she pushed me out of the door and locked me out of the flat for the night.

That’s why I’m here, at a randomer’s party.  It’s a big flat like mine, filled with tons of people doing tons of extremely stupid things.

When it comes to college parties, there are always quite a few usual attendees who you end up seeing at almost every single one.

One of them is Niall Horan. He’s a wonderful drinker. Good lad, honestly. I know absolutely nothing about him, and I don’t really care, but he’s extremely good at beer pong and we make a kick ass team.