Cubicle [h.s. au]

14) Call My Name

Roni

Harry arrived at my flat a little before eight. He was taking me to a night club. Or rather, I was taking him. It was a place I frequented with Patricia, although I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone. It was possible I'd gone with Roland last, but he didn't enjoy night clubs very much. He was more of a stay in kind of guy, unless it had something to do with his group of friends.

"Wow, you look amazing," said Harry when I opened the door, his eyes big as saucers as they scanned my body up and down. I'd chosen a lemon yellow dress with black trim that fit tight to my body and accentuated my curves.

"Thanks," I grinned. "So do you."

Harry made no effort to step inside the door frame as he continued to stare at me. Perhaps it should have made me nervous or uneasy, but it didn't. I was flattered.

"Shall we go?" I giggled.

"Wha- oh, yeah," he blushed slightly which only made me giggle more.

I grabbed my bag and my keys, locking the door behind me. Like always, he allowed me to walk in front of him down the stairs, though I could tell he was only one step behind this time, his breath practically tickling my hair. When we reached the front door of the building, Harry reached his arm over my shoulder as though to push it, only he didn't. He stopped there, making me turn around in question.

"How the hell am I going to be able to keep my hands to myself tonight?" he inquired with a smirk.

I batted my lashes at him, biting my lip. He lowered his head to my neck, lightly pressing his lips to my skin.

"God, you even smell amazing," he murmured, moving his way up to my ear.

I giggled as his other hand gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him. I gently pressed my palms against his chest.

"Harry," I whispered, "we should probably get going."

"Right," he sighed. "Sorry."

Twenty minutes later, Harry and I were stood outside the club, waiting in a queue to get in. I'd forgotten how packed this place could get, but fortunately the line moved rather quickly. Once inside, the booming of the bass pulsed through my body. I felt Harry's hand on the small of my back, making me feel secure as he guided me through the crowd to the bar. After getting our drinks, we found a small table to sit at.

"So what do you think?" I asked him.

"Looks fun," he leaned towards me. "Loud."

I chuckled. "I thought the young kids liked loud."

Harry sneered. "Stop acting like you're so much older than I am."

I glared at him as he took a sip of his drink. "Does it bother you?"

"Yeah," he nodded before resting his glass on the table. "Wait. Do you mean does it bother me that you're older than me, or that you act like you're so much older than me?"

"That I'm older than you."

He shook his head. "Not at all. I've told you that. It only bothers me that you think it does."

I sat back with a sigh. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he blinked. I watched him take another sip of his cocktail before reaching for my hand.

"C'mon," he said, squeezing it. "We're here to have a good time, yeah?"

"Yes," I beamed.

A couple hours and who knows how many drinks later, I was feeling pretty good. Dancing was just one more thing to add to Harry's list of incredible talents. And heaven knows how much I enjoyed feeling his body pressed against mine.