Saving: Protecting: One Direction *UNDER MASSIVE EDITING*

FIVE

FIVE
(ON THE SIDE: COLOR OF JACK'S HAIR.)
--JACK--

The music blared around me, the bass vibrating through the entire club in an electrifying sort of way. The brightly colored lights flared through the darkness, illuminating the scarcely dressed bodies grinding away on the dance floor. The whole place smelled of alcohol and sweat and too much cologne. The atmosphere was exhilarating, filled with people that wanted to let go and have fun.

And I hated every single moment of it.

I popped another Advil in my mouth, downing it quickly from a swig of my bottled water. My lack of sleep added with the incredibly loud volume of the club was making for one nasty headache. I sighed, putting all my weight on the railing in front of me and swirling the bottle in my hand. Below me was a scene of what I considered to be pure chaos: hundreds of young celebrities dirtily dancing to the beat of an even more obscene rap song. I was standing up on a balcony above the massive dance floor and bar. The only other people up there were couples that decided they needed some private time. A boy making out with his girlfriend a few feet away gave a loud, sexual moan at that point. I made a face, trying not to vomit up what little food I had in my stomach. Why couldn't couples save that kind of crap for the bedroom?

I sighed, my eyes automatically scanning the room for the boys. Zayn and Louis were both dancing with their girlfriends around the edges of the crowd. Niall was in a crowd of people, apparently having a competition against another guy to see who could drink the most without throw-up. Harry was-real shocker here-dancing in the very middle of the floor, surrounded by a dozen models. Liam was harder for me to pick out, standing in a back corner talking with a group of people. He was the only one of the boys that hadn't had some kind of alcohol. It was stupid, really, but I found myself wondering why.

The smell of alcohol jerked me from my thoughts. I could smell the drunk on his breath before I could see him. "Hey baby," he slurred, stepping out of the shadows. He was obviously a wealthy college kid, dressed expensively in designer jeans and smelling of extremely expensive cologne. Clearly, he was good-looking with perfectly styled blonde hair and blue eyes that would make any girl melt...any girl but me. He'd said all of two words to me, but I had already picked out from the tone of his voice just the kind of person he was and what he wanted. Arrogant, conceited, used to getting anything he wanted, girls included.

"Leave," I commanded, turning my attention back on the dance floor, bored. There was shocked silence as his alcohol-soaked mind tried to process what I'd said. "Excuse you? I was just trying to be nice and start up a conversation," he snapped at me. I rolled my eyes. He knew that I knew what he had really been up to, and now he was going to act like a three year old because he couldn't get into my pants. "How about you do me and all the other girls here a favor and leave, because not one of us are ever going to have sex with you," I replied in a monotone voice, picking at my chipping nail polish.

All of a sudden his hand was on my left shoulder, grabbing at me. Hard. I was moving before my brain even knew what was going on. I reached over with my right hand and knocked his hand off, grabbing his arm and nimbly flipping it over his back in a fluid movement while knocking his foot out from underneath him. He fell into the railing as I grabbed his right arm to twist it back with the left one. I leaned into him, so he was half over the edge of the balcony, and put my lips to his ear.

"Unless you want to go over, I'd highly suggest you'd calmly leave this club. Now," for emphasis, I pushed him a little more over the edge, and he let out a girlish, high pitched squeak. "Do you understand?" I growled. He nodded fervently, too scared to speak. "Good," I said, and stepped back to let him go. He ran away, quickly regaining his composure as though he'd never lost it. "Stupid bitch," He shot back over his shoulder, trying to pick another fight. I just rolled my eyes and turned my attention back on the boy. Zayn, Louis, Harry, Liam...Niall. Where was Niall?

I scanned the room three more times to make sure I wasn't missing him, but he was nowhere to be found. As extreme as the situation seemed to be, I remained completely calm. My thoughts raced into overdrive while the rest of my body slowed down. Part of my mind raced ahead, all the crime scenes I had ever seen popping up in my head with Niall's face as the victim. The other half was rationalizing the situation, thinking ahead to every possible option as to what could have happened.

Quickly, but not as to alarm anyone, I hurried down the balcony steps and onto the crowded dance floor. Here's where things were going to get complicated. Just in case the would-be-assassin was somewhere here, I had to make my going up to the boys look like pure coincidence. No one could be let on as to who I really was or what I was really doing. I made my way over to Harry first, pretending to simply be dancing my way over to the boy. It was slow moving work. Guys tried to grab at my waist and butt, and I agilely wiggled my way out of their sweaty grasps. My disgust mounted the closer I got to the epicenter, which was Harry. The closer I got the fewer clothes they were wearing. I passed by a bleach blonde with her chest practically hanging out of her too-tight leather dress. I nearly gagged.

Somehow, I managed to push through the inner circle and up to Harry. Through the low lighting and blaring music, he didn't recognize me at first, and grabbed onto my hips and pulled me into his chest. Deciding just to go with it, I wrapped an arm around his neck and swayed with him to the rhythm of the music. I let the dance go on for a few more moments before I put my lips to his ear and whispered, "Harry it's Warner. Where's Niall?" He jerked his head back away from me like he'd been shocked.

His green eyes went wide as he realized who I was. "Oh Jack, I'm sorry. I-I didn't realize..." His grip started to loosen around my waist, put I quickly whispered back into his ear. "Harry, you have to act like I'm just another sleazy girl wanting all your attention. No one can guess that I'm here to protect you, okay? Just do what you'd normally do with other girls." I barely had the words out of my mouth and his arms were already tightening around my hips, lower than they were before. We danced harder to the beat, both of us getting more into it in an attempt to make it look more real. He bent his head down, pressing his lips to my collarbone, and whispered, "The last time I saw Niall, he was running to the loo to be sick. That was probably about ten minutes ago. Do you need me to help look for him?"

I moved my lips back to Harry's ear. "No it's fine. Enjoy yourself and don't worry about Niall." I moved my head back, kissing Harry's cheek for dramatic effect, before untangling myself from him and walking into the crowd. I maneuvered about, pretending to dance while searching for Niall. I didn't dare try to talk to any of the other boys of One Direction, just in case someone noticed and commented about it. Deciding the bathroom was my best option, I forced my way in that general direction. I had to move a lot slower and calmer than I preferred, but it didn't take me long before I ended up outside a large door that lead to the toilets.

I glanced around, and when seeing that no one was paying the slightest bit of attention, I pushed right into the bathroom. Thank the almighty Lord Jesus that there weren't any guys at the urinals, but I could faintly hear sickly moans coming out of one of the stalls. Treading lightly, I cautiously walked across the grimy floor and peaked into the only stall that had a door still attached.

There he was, lying half over the disgusting toilet seat, face sweaty and green. As I watched, he gave a violent shudder, leaned over the toilet, and spilled his guts into the bowl. "Oh Niall," I sighed, walking into the stall, and sitting down on the floor next to him. I ran my fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his sweaty forehead as he continued to throw up. I had no intention of leaving him in this state. Michael did the same thing every time he'd go out to the bar-and I'd be the one left to care for him-so I was immune to the vomit. He pushed himself away from the toilet, leaning against the wall with a groan. "What are we going to do with you?" I asked him, slightly amused. His only answer was a small smile followed by another bout of gagging that had his head back in the toilet.