Hollow

Fourteen | Highs

"OH MY LORD!"

"It's just Killian." He chuckles, a distinctive accent in his voice.

"That's very modest of you, just Killian."

"You're funny."

"I'm drunk." I grin sheepishly.

He looks at me with an amused expression and steps forward to lean against the counter. I notice the tattoos peeking through his shirt sleeves but I can't see them clearly because of the dim lights in the club. Everything from his hazel eyes to his solid jaw to his wavy brown hair that could be mistaken for black that rests just above his collarbone, to his husky voice that's a perfect fit to his face.

Killian gulps down three shots; one after the other in a swift motion, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches me. I take that as a challenge and down four shots as well...blame it on the alcohol in my system. Unlike him, I wince at the burn in my throat.

"Here." His gorgeous brown orbs lock with mine, a tiny smile appearing on his face as he hands me a slice of lime.

"Thank you."

"Are you here alone?"

"No, I'm here with my friends." I reply and point to where my friends are.

"We met earlier." He laughs, looking at his stained shirt.

"I heard. Pink is definitely your color."

Killian lets out a small chuckle before reaching for his last shot, his eyes never breaking eye contact with me. Placing the glass back down, he gestures for me to get closer.

"Do you want to dance?" He whispers lowly in my ear.

"You want me to dance with you?"

"You know you want to."

I don't even bother replying, instead, I grab his hand and lead him through the mass of dancing bodies, ignoring the stares directed our way.

It takes everything in me to not jump him as his hands move from my waist to my hips as we dance. We dance like this for a while, me leaning my back against his chest and his breath brushing against my neck. Jas' drunk voice screams loudly over the music, her eyes glistening with mischief.

<<·>> <<·>> <<·>>

The waiter brings our orders; a strawberry Açaí and Killian settles for water. We thank the waiter and he nods, taking his leave. I take a sip of my drink before placing my cup back down, letting my eyes roam over him. Fucking hell, even the way he drinks is attractive.

"So what are you doing in Spain?"

"I live here."

I face palm myself when I realize my mistake. The slight accent was a clear indication but my dumb ass decided to speak anyway.

"It's okay." He replies, clearly amused. "I think the real question here is, what are you doing in Spain?"

"I came to get my mind off certain things."

"Were you successful?"

I hesitate before shrugging it off; proceeding to tell him about my trip as our food arrives. He tells me about his career and we go on talking about the most random things before he offers me a tour around the city after we're done with our meal.

We walk out of the restaurant and from the corner of my eye, I spot a bunch of paparazzi standing outside, flashes and questions being thrown at us. We walk making conversation and I gasp in awe at the sight of couples sitting on tables outside, laughing and dancing away happily, and children playing football on the street.

We can literally see the whole city from here, the tall buildings lit by lights as they shine brightly in the night sky, giving us the perfect view. I turn to look at him, raising a brow.

"How'd you find this place?"

"My friends and I used to play football here. Just like those kids you see there."

I avert my gaze back at the street but he comes to stand in front of me, his tall frame domineering over my small one.

He inches closer and places his arms around me. "Are you feeling better, Zahra?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good." He replies before gently pressing his lips against mine.