Far Too Many Good Intentions. (Harry Styles)

Let's sing to be happy.

Things between us for the next two days were a bit strained, to say the least. I couldn't look him in the face without having my heart nearly explode, the memories of the night in the kitchen flooding back. I would catch him staring off into space at me all the time; sometimes for minutes, until he noticed and snapped out of it, blushing.

And it didn't help that I was now having dreams of him every night. The dreams were the strangest of all, not because they were inappropriate (because they weren't), but more because they seemed so incredibly real.

You could imagine by the time Friday rolled around that I was beyond out of my mind over thinking of the curly haired boy. Harry had hardly spoken all day, and the night was approaching.

I was sitting on the couch flipping through channels on the TV when Louis ran in and grabbed the remote from my hands, turning it off. I glared up at him. He was grinning like a fool at me, and I found it quite strange. "Hey, Lou," I said warily.

"My dear Addison, I do believe it's high time the boys and I took you to a proper club," Louis grabbed my arms and hauled me up off the couch. "We leave in an hour! Make yourself even more beautiful than you already are," he winked. "Harry is really excited to see you," he added, whispering.

I'm sure my face turned a dark shade of red, but I shook my head at him, laughing. "I'll try my best." I walked into my room, scanning through the few items in my closet. I drummed my fingers on my chin in thought until I decided on my favorite 'going out' dress: dark green, with a black hemline and buttons down the back. I blushed as I pulled it on; it was very form-fitting.

I freshened my normal makeup, but instead of just mascara, I added eyeliner. I stared at myself in the mirror in shock at the person who stared back at me. It was amazing what a little makeup did to a person.

My perpetually tousled light brown hair made me still look like the same Addison, but it was still odd to look at myself done up in what seemed like forever. Back in America, I'd snuck into my fair share of nightclubs, don't get me wrong, but something about this seemed more...exciting, more alive.

I checked the clock: we were leaving in five. I put on the worn-in black heels I wore with just about everything and was out the door. I could hear all the boys in the living room chatting, waiting on me.

As I walked out into the space, all eyes focused on me. I furrowed my brow. "What?" They had all stopped talking, their mouths dropped, and eyes wide.

"You look g-great, Addison," Niall stuttered. I thanked him, but I felt so, so uncomfortable.

"You look wonderful," Liam agreed politely.

"Jesus Christ," Zayn groaned under his breath, causing Louis to burst into laughter.

"Well, lads and lady, the night is ours," Louis clapped his hands together. "Let's go."

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We made it inside, weaving through the sea of bodies moving to the loud music and straight to the bar. Louis ordered a round of shots for all of us.

Harry was uncharacteristically quiet, but as we raised our glasses, his eyes caught mine, smiling slightly. And as the burning liquid slithered down our throats, the night began.

I was on my third drink, on the way back to the bar. Not that I needed it, I was already pretty tipsy. Niall and Zayn were on the dance floor, flirting with a few girls. Louis and Liam were chatting in the corner, mostly about their girlfriends. As I struggled to walk straight, I felt a hand on my wrist.