INDIGO➵Harry Styles

4 ___DESIGN___

"This one is gonna make it, I swear," I cheered, preparing to swing the cherry in my hand into the air.

"No way," Heath insisted. "You can't get ten in a row."

 I arched an eyebrow.

"Watch."

After our level of intoxication had risen, our group had turned to a game with the cherries left from our cocktails. We were all divided into pairs and Liam, of course, was mine. I had to throw cherries, further and futher away across the lounge, to land in his mouth. And damn, was it fun. The two of us had a winning streak, nailing our throw and catch every time and then dissolving into fits of laughter again.

The plump little red ball shot though the air and straight into a score.

"'Cause we are the champions, my friend," Liam sang.

"And we'll keep on fighting, till the end!" I called back, badly, yes, but I was elated, carefree.

Still not able to contain our grins, Liam and I plopped down onto one of the couches.

"Helen's not coming tonight?" I couldn't help asking. I wouldn't mind her being here.

"Nah, I don't think so," Liam replied. I guess he saw something like disappointment shape my expression. So he tried to distract me. You see, this is why I like you. I felt the sweetness of anticipation bubbling up in me again as I watched playfulness colour those eyes.

"You know, we haven't danced tonight." Or any other night, I filled in, as I imagined he did too. Flirtation was reaching a limit now, clearing its cause of any accusations and making a case to the jury for action.

The hand that usually held the same few beloved paintbrushes (and sometimes bombs) was in his, ready to take us out onto something new and so much more tantalisingly dangerous.

"One tequila shot each, first." I wasn't asking, unable to contain my commands, my smile, or the rising, floating euphoria that followed the cementing belief that this was just what I needed.

Liam and I had just been handed our shots at the bar when some imbecile drunk out of his mind led his bulk into a collision with us. Luckily, we were spared his weight, with just a jolt, but our tequila spurted through the air in a shower that was far less enjoyable than I had planned for their purpose. Across from each other, we gauged the damage, having no option but to laugh, nervously at first, but soon freely, too loudly. One's anger passed with the sight of the other.

I grabbed a towel from the bar and in no time I had jumped up on the counter next to Liam, pulling him by his shirt to stand in front of me, too stunned to resist or answer. I didn't hide my smile as I smoothed the towel over the corner of his mouth, his jaw, the beginning of his neck, a smooth pass that was meant to be sensuous in its slow and deliberate coils. As I leaned in to his neck to find the mess that was only an excuse, I sated my lips for a second by letting them find his skin, my tongue darting out, quick, kittenish, to lick the last drops of tequila from him. The stinging alcohol seemed to strike me more after it had been on him, warmed by him.

"See? Done." I sang, leaning back in easy accomplishment but still knowing exactly what I was doing with my proximity, lifted up above him with him standing between my thighs, a stance too tempting for both of us.

"F.uck."

Swearing. He just didn't do it often enough for some reason, not that he was afraid. Just running farther and farther from inhibitions as the night went on. Ah, progress. Liam's voice smoothed over the word in his whisper.

I passed the towel over my collarbones and right above my cleavage, refusing to back down and break eye contact. I made my eyes an open provocation, arching a brow above them and hinting at a knowing smile below, as I ran my hands and the fabric over me.