Yours // 5sos

Chapter 1

"I can't believe you're making me dress like this. I feel so exposed."

"That's air on your skin. And you know what they say."

"What do they say?"

"The more air on your skin you feel, the more boys you'll attract."

"I've never heard anyone say that ever."

"I just made it up. Now come on! Get on your shoes!"

"You mean the weapon you call heels?"

"They're only 5 inches."

"ONLY 5?!"

"Mine are 8."

"Holy Jesus."

The door slams behind me as I hop after my best friend Emma, trying to tug my heels that I am borrowing from her onto me feet. I honestly cannot express enough how much of a slut I feel like right now. I am surprised that I can breathe normally in this super skin-tight red dress. Emma had attempted to put my hair up in swirls, but she gave up, my brown hair smoothed down across my back.

"Emma! Wait up!"

Her dress, just as tight as mine, is slightly lower cut and has parts of her sides showing, is a bright blue color that slightly blinds me.

"Hurry up. Honestly. We have to get there before they do."

I try walking as fast as I can while still struggling with the heels. "Just go on without me never mind. I can find my way to the club without you."

"Here," she says, her ombré hair flipping as she turns around. She tosses me my own fake id before racing off towards the elevators at such a high speed I feel like she isn't truly wearing heels.

I groan, about to throw the heel across the hallway just as a small family walks down the hall, two little kids in swimsuits and floaties following their parents. I try to imagine their thoughts of me. 'Hooker. Slut.'

Can't blame them. All Emma wants of me is to be this fake person. We had a concert last night for One direction and she expects us to meet them while they are still in town, knowing that they are supposed to be going to the club we are on our way to. We were lucky enough to score the last room in the same hotel as their opening act, which I forget the name of, but only thanks to Emma's uncle being rich and being able to afford it for us. Thank the lord for Uncle Rodger.

I slip past the family, attempting to fit the heels on while hopping again when I reach the elevator. I decide to put them on in there since I have a ten floor drop before I get off. I press the down button before the doors open and I slip in. I'm alone in the elevator, so I slip to the ground and attempt to slip on the heels. One of them fits and as I try to slam the other onto my foot, I cry out in frustration and throw it against where I thought the elevator door was, but it was open and flew through the open door, narrowly missing the ear of an oncoming passenger.

"Hold the elevator!" I shout to him, jumping up to go retrieve the heel. I race over and as I attempt to sprint back to the elevators before they close, I trip over my other heel and go hurtling into the elevator, face first.

Expecting the crash of my face against the elevator door, I am surprised to to not have pain shooting through me (besides my ankle, which feels twisted)

That's when I can feel the guy's arms around me, which is what caught me from crashing.

"Woah. Not know the rocket science of heels?" I hear him joke, his voice molding around me, an accent pricking through it.

"No. My friend wanted me to go to this stupid club and its my first time being a hooker," I reply, attempting to stand up straight as I hear the elevator doors close.

I hear his laugh, a low pitched, but soothing melody. It makes me smile. I rub the back of my neck and turn towards him to thank him when I freeze.

He smirks a little at me as I see him. But I hardly register it. My eyes are only taking him in, my heart completely skipping a beat. He is so hot, oh my god. His eyebrows over his bright blue eyes raise in amusement.

I shake my head. "Oh, sorry. I should probably introduce myself now that you practically saved my life."

"Oh, not really your life, but I saved you from getting a nasty bruise," he agrees, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair, kind of driving me nuts.

He tilts his head a little, leaning casually against the elevator wall. "So what is your name?"

"Um, Samantha. S-samantha Evans," I say, slightly self conscious of my name.

He nods. "That's a very pretty name-," I blush scarlet at that-, "I'm Luke."

"Luke...do I know you? From somewhere?" I ask, the name suddenly familiar.

He frowns. "I don't think so."

I nod. "You're right. I would remember seeing you. So. You off to meet your girlfriend or-?"

I bet he is. A guy like him cannot be single. But Luke only grins, chuckling to himself. "Oh no. I don't have a girlfriend. I was just on the way to the club to meet a couple friends."

I try to keep the giddiness out of my next response. "Oh! Which club? Because my friend was just teaching me how to be a hooker and she was taking me to the club next door."

Luke studies me. "Yeah that one. But you look a little young to be going to the club. Dressed like a...'hooker'," he adds, using finger quotes. "Which you don't, by the way. You look fantastic."

I hide another sigh of longing. "Oh," I flash him my fake id. "I'm 16. But Emma wanted to drink illegally. So I decided to be there to take her home after she got drunk for the first time. We were hoping to meet one direction or their opening act, but I told her it's pointless."

Luke nods. "Yeah, that's probably a small chance. But I could go with you, if you want. Help you get her back up here after she gets wasted."

I stifle a giggle, trying to stay calm. "Only if you don't mind."

He snaps his fingers. "Oh and I could introduce you to my friends too. If they haven't already gotten drunk without me. Calum's probably already found the fireball."

I do laugh at that and it puts a smile on Luke's face. But suddenly I feel the elevator jerk and remember neither of us picked a floor to go to because of the heel incident, so now we are moving back up. He starts laughing too before jamming his finger into the 1 button.

"Hey, do you need assistance getting your heel on?" He adds, gesturing towards my bare left foot.

I shrug. "Only if you want to struggle for ten years."

He shakes his head. "Come here." He bends down and grasps the heel and before trying to shove it on, he unclips three little clips I thought were for show before sliding the heel effortlessly onto my foot, reclasping the clips.

"Oh," I mumble as we stand up.

He laughs, probably at my stupidity as the elevator opens, letting us out to the lobby.