Photograph// Liam Payne

Chapter One

•Liam Payne•

"Oi, Liam!" I snap out of my daze to look at Dominic, who's calling me. He's coming over to my bar stool, my drink in hand.

"What?" I snarl, rightly so. My eyelids are still heavy. And though it may seem so, the loud music and dancing couples are doing nothing to wake me up.

"Whoa there, tiger. What's got your panties in a twist?" Dom asks, sliding my drinking across the bar to me.

"I had a late light last night." I wink suggestively at him before downing my drink in one go, the alcohol burning in my throat as it went. Ah, whisky.

"Say no more." He grimaces at me. I smile over the rim of my glass, setting it down on the bar counter with a thud. "Anyway, what I wanted to say was, that girl you've been looking for is here. The one from the bus?"

I may have been having trouble keeping my body straight a few minutes ago, but this information is like a bucket of ice dropped on my head. Suddenly, I'm all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Are you sure it's her?" I reaffirm. I may have been mates with Dominic for a long time, but he still evidently found it funny to fuck me over badly.

"It is. Brown hair, brown eyes, dimple on the right cheek, all that shit. And I heard her friend say something about a photo shoot. It's got to be her. I'll be damned if it isn't."

"You better be right, Dom. If it isn't, you'll pay." I shoot the amused twenty year old a suspicious glance and stand up. "Where did you say she was?"

"I didn't, you arse. They're at the back." As I get up off the bar stool, I grab onto the edge of the bar and stumble a little before regaining composure.

"Thanks, mate. I owe you one." I shoot Dom a smile that could be interpreted as grateful in some way.

He only winks at me before going back to wiping down the surface of the long, ever-grimy bar counter. I shake my head at Dominic.

"Hey, Dom." I shout at him. He barely heard it, thanks to the deafening music. He looks up anyway, at me. I only say, "Have I ever told you that you're freaking whipped?" Referring to his girlfriend of two years whose fault it is that he's working this hard.

I turn around and make my way through the dancing couples. Dancing, more like grinding. But I'm not judging, it's something I would probably do.

Oh God, get your mind straight. Where did that arse say she was? Oh, yeah. Out back.

The club has two parts, indoors and out. The inside part of it looks like your normal run-off-the-mill club, but the outdoors addition is what makes the whole place stand out. It's surrounded by this really thick shrubbery that's about 15 feet tall, for privacy. There were speakers situated within what is basically a three metre radius from each other. In the actual space, there are countless high round wooden tables, complete with wooden stools. And the middle is the clincher. A fucking stage made out of wood. That's right. The whole outside place is spectacular.

Right now, you might be asking why I'd stay inside when there was this evidently epic outside atmosphere. Well, let me tell you one thing. The damn place is packed. All the time. Also, I've spent many nights out back. It only feels fair, as I'm a regular.

Back to the story. So yeah, there I am, looking for who I've started calling Photo Girl, casually looking around. Apparently, my 'casual' face looks a tad bit like I'm constipating, judging by the look on Dom's face when I turn back to signal him to point me in the right direction.

I shake my head at his disapproving face. Just as I turn around, I spot her.

She's walking over to a table, where someone, I'm guessing a friend, is seated.