Between Us [H.S.]

Rockstar

*Author's note*

Okay let's get to it, shall we.

*This chapter contains MATURE and EXPLICIT content*

-i.

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I'm not drunk okay? Maybe a little tipsy. Don't judge me I'm not used to drink, bare with me. Everyone's having fun and dancing to the music playing. Laura and Niall seem to be getting along pretty well, everyone seems to like her. I remembered that one of the boys was missing apart from Harry, the one with arabic features, but Laura reminded me with sore eyes how he had left the band before they went their separate ways. She suggested me to not mention him with the boys. Thank God I have her here, I would have ran my mouth and made everyone uncomfortable.

Although I'm having fun and everyone is nice to me, I feel weird in my stomach. Places with lots of people have always given me a bad gut feeling. Either I'm too wasted to not even notice or I need to be by myself for some time. Take a break. Not that they make me uncomfortable, but I suddenly get the feeling that I'm being too boring, too shy, too talkative, too myself. I feel like I bother everyone. My breathing starts to accelerate. We don't want some unnecessary asthma attack, do we? Not that I have breathing problems but with the latests evens I'm not playing with my luck.

That's why I decide to go to the terrace to have a smoke and breathe some fresh air by myself. I see at the end of the room some big windows overlooking the terrace. Walking toward them I realize there's several people making out there. Yeh, not my cup of tea. 

What do I do now?  Everyone is distracted, laughing, playing drinking games, dancing, having a good time and I don't want to bother them with my shitty social anxiety.

I decide to take the elevator and go down to the street to smoke by myself.  The good thing about everyone being distracted and me being quiet is that they don't even know I left the room. That happens quite a lot and with Laura by my side, more often even. She's so out going, talkative, attractive, the body, the face, the voice...since I met her I feel like the little sister, like the retarded-my parents are related-little sister. 

I hop on the elevator.

32, 31, 30...

I wish I was more like her. That people would look at me when I enter a room and think wow, look at her. But that's not going to happen. 

23, 22, 21...

And on the other hand I love being this intimate bookworm that loves listening to good music, good books (not Pride and Prejudice) and aims for good conversations.

10,9,8...

I wonder if he didn't come to the party because of the same reasons I'm leaving. Maybe he didn't enjoy partys or social events as much as the rest. Maybe he loved listening to music in his room, making his own. Reading a good book, having relaxing baths, writing, drinking hot chocolate when it's cold outside. 

5,4,3...

I wonder if he notices how I stare at him sometimes. How I blushed when I saw the dimple on his cheek that night at my door, how much I like our little not-answering-he-question-game, how I didn't want his hand to leave the touch from my face when he said I was warm, how I would like to show him how I tasted...

2...

Shit

1...

Girl you gotta stop thinking about-