The Power Within [Narry]

--Chapter 7--

The pungent smell of booze, weed, sex, and chlorine infiltrates my nose as we walk into the party. The music is so loud that the walls are vibrating in rhythm with the beat. I don't like university parties because I find them too chaotic and rowdy, but the lads nonetheless have managed to drag me to seven parties in the past year (including this one).

I vaguely hear someone behind me shouting about the pool before a hand grabs a hold of my bicep and drags me through the mass of half-naked people.

"This is sick!" Ryan, who's shoving people out of his way to keep up, shouts over the painfully loud music. We finally reach the outdoor pool and I shake off the hand that's fastened onto my arm, which I realize belongs to Nick.

I click my tongue and wipe off some body glitter that managed to stick to my t-shirt when I was squeezing past some bikini-clad girls.

My jaw hits the floor when I take in the sight of this guy's patio.

Streamers are hung from up above, balloons of all different colors are floating among the numerous partygoers in the pool, barbecue grills with sizzling meats are set up along the side of the house, empty beer bottles and red solo cups litter the ground, and the entire patio is illuminated in a mystic, purple hue.

Nick and Ryan quickly strip down to their trunks and cannonball into the pool, splashing some water onto me. I follow their lead (though not as eager) and neatly put my clothes next to their scattered ones so I won't lose them.

I go to sit myself down on the pool's ledge, aimlessly kicking my feet a bit in the water as I stare at the drunk people partying in front of me. The lads push their wet hair out of their eyes and laugh at each other.

Ry smiles and idiotically paddles like a dog until he's right by my leg. "Guess what Niall?"

"...What?"

He tightly locks his arms around my legs. "It's going down, I'm yelling TIIMMMBBEERRRR!" And with that, I'm yanked into the pool-taken by total surprise.

All my senses are momentarily haywire and the stinging sensation of pool water stuck in my nose makes me cough up my guts. Once my vision starts to clear and I'm done hacking, I weakly try to glare at Ry.

Thank god I used that handy-dandy, waterproof makeup.

While turning to glare at the prick I call a friend, my gaze focuses on something over his shoulder.

"Hey lads! Fancy seeing you here!" A familiar, wispy-haired brunette shouts as he and two others walk towards the pool. My eyebrows shoot up in astonishment. Yes, this is a college party jam-packed with over a hundred, wild people but it never crossed my mind that they could be here too-not that I'm complaining.

I can't help the big grin that's growing on my face, nor can I help the dark blush that's burning my cheeks when I see Harry taking off his white tee.

Three words. He is FINE. Wow, I sound like a pervert, but at least I didn't say that out loud.

"Loueh! Zayn! Harry! Get your asses into the pool! It's about time to play a few rounds of Marco Polo!" Ry winks at me, mouthing you'll thank me later.

What? Why are we playing Marco Polo? My eyebrows furrow in befuddlement.

After two minutes of playing Marco Polo with us six lads bumping into others in the pool, a rather large group of drunk partygoers invite themselves into our little fail of a game.

"MARCO!" Harry screams delightfully, a red bandana wrapped tightly around his head, probably cutting off circulation to his brain. I'm standing about four feet away from him-with Ry right next to me-and Harry stretches out his arms to make grabby hands, as if he'll instantly latch onto anything that comes within his grasp. That prospect is very inviting, especially to those girls who are currently wading through the chlorine waters to have a go at him, completely ignoring the whole concept of Marco Polo.