Joelle
When Grimmy and I arrived at Sparks, the party was already going headstrong. It was not my first time being at this particular club, the memorable blue lights lit up the entrance. The club occupied a two story building that was rusting around the edges, the leathery brown paint peeling off in random spots. I think the antiqueness made it unique, it was incredible how it might be old and falling apart, yet dozens upon dozens of people went there every night.
This was one of the most popular clubs in London, with the guest list usually including the celebrities who lived in this area. To get on the list, took a lot of bribing and a lot of groveling. Had I not been with Nick, they would have given me an annoyed look and told me to get on my way.
With my side braid that consisted of brown hair that reached my ribs, average 5'6 stature and stormy green eyes they would have called told me that I was 'too common' to be allowed in. Because the girls who were currently in there? They were all tall, slim, blonde and probably either models or actresses.
But since I was with Nick Grimshaw - one of the most popular bachelors in London - I got escorted in with smiles and a purplish drink was shoved into my hand the second I was four feet in the door. Grimmy laughed as the music pulsed through our beings. "Miss Joelle, they won't even know what's hit them!"
I nodded my head in agreement, knowing that no matter how loudly I talked, he wouldn't hear me. And I knew that the second one of his other friends came towards him, he'd leave me without a second thought. I'd then proceed to find the couches and sit and drink shirley temples until Grimmy came stumbling towards me, mumbling incoherently. Then I'd be the one to hail him a cab and get us both back safely home. Not that I minded, really. He was a great guy and a brilliant friend, which was probably the problem. Everyone loved him, so despite the fact that he brought me, the hoards of people would demand time with him.
During this time, I'd usually have a few celebrities and a few 'normal' people come and tell me their life story. Not that they knew that's what they'd be doing when they sat down next to me, some too drunk to speak intelligently. Something about me installed trust within them, as if they knew I'd nod in agreement and shake my head in sympathy at their every word.
Then, if no one was sitting next to me, I'd analyze the DJ's music choices and chastise him for playing the stupidest songs ever. All because it had a 'heavy bass'. There were some songs that I wished would be noticed more for the lyrics instead of the fact that it was catchy, some popular pop songs actually had amazing meanings behind them - not that anyone other than myself noticed.
"Anyone sitting here?" A deep, slow voice asked after I had been sitting on the couch for at least ten minutes, which I think has been the quickest time yet. Most of the time it was towards eleven, when the alcohol had reached its destination, and then the area with green couches would become a 'venting' area. I shook my head quickly, letting my eyes take in this obviously sober celebrity.
He had a narrow face, one with brilliant cheekbones and an awe-inspiring jawline that was unshaven - scruffs of hair lining his chin. Pink, chapped lips, slim nose, bushy eyebrows, and hair that added a few inches to his height. I had yet to see his eyes, but I could tell that with his hands shoved into his pockets, he was not exactly at ease with this situation. Whether the situation was talking to me or being in this club, I couldn't be sure. In all my times of club hopping with Grimmy, not once (until now) had I had the pleasure of meeting Zayn Malik. I hadn't even heard much about him from everyone I listened to, so all I truly knew about him was what I heard from gossiping teen magazines that I rifled through when I was bored.
