Mixed Up // Harry Styles

Two

                                                  CHAPTER TWO

     Pushing my ID back into my purse, I step into the warmth of the club. The atmosphere catching me off guard a little, the beat of the music making my head thump already.

     “Holly?” A male voice calls out.

     I swivel round on the spot to be greeted with sea blue eyes staring back at me, his eyes skimming over my body giving me a once over.

     “Do you want a drink?” His words becoming slurred and easily being mistaken.

     “Yes, please.” I reply, taking hold of his hand, our fingers entwining as we force out way through the growing crowd heading in the direction of the bar.

     “Vodka and coke, please,” I tell the barmaid, sitting down on one of the stools whilst Niall orders. He then turns to me, staring me up and down again.

     “What?” I ask uneasily, shuffling uncomfortably in my seat.

     “What do you think of the engagement?”

     “I don’t think anything,” I lie. “My intention is to get drunk and forget it. I just want to have a good time.”

     “Yeah, but – “

     “What’s so wrong about a girl wanting a good time, Ni?” I snap at the young boy stood to the side of me, instantly regretting doing so.

     I push the £10 note over to the barmaid. “Keep the change,” I mumble, hopping off of the bar stool and disappearing into the crowd of dancing youths.

     Within a few minutes of being on the dance floor, somebody was already at my hips; pulling my body closer to theirs and making me squirm under their touch in a desperate attempt to escape.

     “Stop,” I order, wiggling my way out of their hold, not bothering to take a glance in their direction, already heading for the girls toilets in the far corner, placing my half full glass on a table as I pass by.

     As soon as I enter the toilets, the noise from the outside fades out, the sound of a girl throwing up quickly replacing it.

     I position myself in front of the mirror, placing my bag down on the side. My hands firmly face down on either side of the sink as I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m a mess, both mentally and physically.

     Tugging at my hairband, I yank it out, hissing as a chunk of hair comes with it. I turn the taps on, splashing my face with a mixture of both hot and cold water, the last of my makeup rushing from my face, patting my face gently dry with a few blue hand towels situated all over the place, all still neatly in their packets.

     I take a deep breath and continue to stare back at myself, studying every feature and aspect of myself in view. I still have my baby face, still have my ginger hair that will never change, still have mud pools for eyes. As for the state that I’m in now, it’s living proof that I still have feelings for a certain boy.

     That definitely needs to change.