Nyctophilia {H.S}

{ A HARRY STYLES FAN-FICTION }

I find myself gripping the drink in my hand tighter when there's a presence on my left side, the opposite side of Stella.
"Vodka?" i hear being questioned, my head darting toward the victim, where i expect to see either a middle aged married bald man or a pissed teenager who used their dads ID to enter the bar, my eyes fall upon someone's chest

That's not me being a perv, that's literally what was there, just a chest; what if he's a headless man, is it even possible to stay alive without a head? The only headless think ive ever seen is that headless pony in my little pony and that shivered the timbers out of six year old me.

"I'm up here, butterfly" the same voice calls, my eyes jump from his chest toward his face, he's definitely not headless. Infact, i find my stomach making this weird swirly whirly feeling as my eyes scan his face, god what could those lips d-

"Vodka, straight?" he urges, nodding toward my glass with a small smirk, obviously finding my flustered state rather entertaining.

"Uh- bisexual" i reply with uncertainty, turning my head toward Stella for some sort of help, elbowing her in the ribs when she burts out laughing.

"No i don't mean are you straight i mean are you drinking vodka straight" he chuckles, the scent of whiskey on his breath becoming increasingly obvious as he bows his head lower to me.

"Butterfly?" I ask, disregarding his question.

"Huh" he hums in question, a deep dimple forming in his cheek as his smirk increases