What Were the Chances?

"Shiiit, baby, you look real familiar," my voice had become a sort of drunken giggle. In front of me a handsome man stood. His smile was white and slightly crooked. I had to look up as he was at least nine inches taller than I. Other details are blurred, to say the least.

"Are you alone?" He asked with raised brows.

"I shouldn't be," the same alcohol-induced laughter arose, "I- I'm being babysat." I looked around and spotted no one. "I was, anyway. Maybe I'm free!" This time he smirked at my excited grin. 

"JUSTINE," the call came from behind me. I turned over and waved at my frazzled friend. "What the hell are you doing?! I told you to wait in the bathroom with me." The man was smiling at us. 

"Oh yeah," I stated absently, "I got bored. I met, uh," I looked up at him, "Who're you again?" 

"Oliver," he grabbed my hand gently and kissed it, "a pleasure to meet you and your guardian for the evening." My friend peered over with disgust at Oliver. 

"She won't bother you anymore," she flipped her blonde locks over her shoulder.

"I'm not bothered. Rather, I'm a bit relieved. You see, there were more than a couple eyes roaming all over your very drunk and American friend." I'd tried to make my way back over to the bar, but my friend grabbed my arm. 

"She's not a drunk. Nor am I. I do hope you don't think all Americans are frivilous drinkers?" She became feisty and protective. Music blared in the background.

"You're so tall," I giggled stupidly, "I bet you can see the top of everyone's head."

"Most people," his smile was contagious. He layed his hands atop the curly, brunette ringlts that hung from my head. "I know many Americans," he faced my friend, " I know there are no assumptions to be made. But other people would have targetted her. Cowards, of course. They'd have no chance with her on a sober day." She eyed him suspiciously. 

"We'll leave then," she stated.

"But Laney-" I complained.

"Come on, Justine," She pulled me away throught the crowded club. I stumbled through in my three-inch heals. She was eager to leave, and obviously annoyed with me. Of course, there was no way running out would be so easy.

"Justine," I heard my name called again in a familiar british shout. Alaina rolled her eyes from beside me and waited as he caught up to us. 

"What?" She asked rudely. 

"Olivander!" I exclaimed. Both he and Alaina couldn't help but laugh at my expense. 

"Oliver," he corrected before pulling out a purple clutch from behind him, "you left this, Justine." 

"Oh, thank you!" Alaina had snatched it before I had the chance. Instead, I just waved at Oliver as we dissapeared into the London night and found our way back to the two-bedroom flat we'd rented for the summer. I collapsed in my bed and had a violent night of sleep. 

The morning came far too early. I rose, reluctantly and stared at my reflection; a girl stared at me with purple circles and the remnants of makeup. My head blared with pain, and the smell of pancakes both made my stomach growl and made me want to throw-up then and there. I threw on a tee-shirt and jeans before heading down the hall. 

Alaina stood in our kitchenette with a spatula in her hand, and he blonde locks tied in a pony-tail. She peered over at me and shook her head condescendingly, though a small grin arose in the corners of her mouth. 

"You," she stated as I sat on a barstool and looked at her apologetically. "How the hell did you convince me to go out? I knew you would do that!"

"I know," I sighed, my brown eyes reflected guilt. "I drink to forget. It's an awful habit. I just want to have fun and it always backfires."