The blasting of the music and clutter of drunk sluts was almost enough to make me vomit. God I hated night clubs- only made me feel sick, they did. The way random strangers would just come up to you and grind their disgusting bodies against you like you were their property was something that I never understood. Maybe if I down fifty more shots of cherry vodka I'll be able to actually enjoy myself instead of being company for a friend, who, as usual, ditched me to get laid.
If I didn't already feel sick enough, I swear I actually puked in my mouth when I saw him. Jack. To be clear, Jack Maynard....What? You know him? That British YouTuber with that incredibly pretty face? That's him.
Let's just say we had a past together. Broke up because of personal reasons, prayed to never see his crystal blue eyes again, angered at the thought of him. The usual stuff with exes, you know? But Jack was different. Immature, one would say.
I scowled at the blonde figure, before trying to hide before he saw me. I dodged the awful people in the crowd and almost managed to make an exit. But it was too late.
'HEY!' He exclaimed at me, not meaning to sound rude but hoping to be heard over the deafening music. 'Are you crazy?'
'Hit the road Jack', I rolled my eyes at him. I've always been known for my quick wit, it was one of the things Jack liked most about me.
At my response, he chuckled. God, he was so adorable, even with his eyes glazed over from the alcohol. But I know truly that I can't fall for him again. The man (who seemed that he had a teenager trapped inside his body) who broke me doesn't even deserve my attention.
I rolled my eyes once again, before turning and walking back towards the door. But I was forced to stop when he grabbed a handful of my tank top.
'Listen here missy', he growled, 'I'm not done talking to you'.
Although he tried to come off as threatening, he failed miserably and made it clear that it was just a playful gesture. Besides, he knew not to mess with me. If I wanted to, I could roast the shit out of him, but I mainly wanted to go home.
'Jack, you're drunk', I spoke bluntly, 'And I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now. Go find some other chick to fuck'.
He simply blinked at me for a few seconds, his smirk transforming into a frown as he put his hands up in surrender.
'Fine. But I WILL see you again. I don't care if you're in the mood for it or not'.
And he walked away.
YOU ARE READING
21 Years Young (Jack Maynard)
FanfictionJack Maynard? Ah, yes! That guy who makes his fangirls go insane with just one glance? Yeah. At least he doesn't throw their hearts on the concrete and stamp over them with his designer shoes, just like he did to me.
