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     HIGH ADRENALINE; THAT'S WHAT radiated through her body at this very moment as the base from the music increased in her ear drums and caused her body to vibrate and move drunkenly. She barely knew what had been going on in her mind, she just knew that she wanted to dance. She remembered her and the girls talking for about an hour, mainly about Estella and everything that went on with Harry, and then decided it was time to shake all distraught away by going to the crowded dance floor. The music was alternative, her throat dry and her hands clammy while her eyes wandered around to search for anyone to dance with. She spotted a man not to far from her, erotically dancing with a girl only an inch taller than he was. The man had dark long curls, his skin a peach color and his arms decorated in colorful ink. He reminded her of Harry, and at some point she blinked twice to see if it was him.

   Estella found herself stumbling toward him, the man's eyes abruptly leaving the woman who had been grinding against him and landing on her own, a smirk coming on his face as she came closer. Estella was too focused on him that she didn't care when she pushed the girl out of the way and threw her arms around his neck, his strong cologne making her moan at the remembrance of it. Maybe it had been the drugs added on to the intense emotions about Harry that made her picture him instead of reveal what the guys actual face looked like. Given the circumstances, she was allowed not to care at the moment, but hated how she pictured the man that had her in this situation from the beginning instead of forget about him like she was hoping to do.

   All she saw was the blurred version of this man and Harry mixed together. She couldn't escape no matter what she did she wouldn't run from her feelings for him. He was a beautiful barricade on her heart, and even if she felt like she didn't want Harry because she was still holding on to Zayn—She would always choose Harry.

   Something odd happened when Estella closed her eyes for a brief moment just to think, the man's hands had been dangerously low to a point where they overstayed their welcome, his tongue darting out to dirtly skid over her earlobe and for a second she smiled because she still had the assumption that it was Harry, and even if she was mad at him, she could never hate him.

   Common sense wouldn't knock on her door just yet, her eyes feeling like they were almost buzzing excessively along with her nose and body. She couldn't comprehend clearly what the man had asked her, she just knew she nodded her head, his hand taking her own and pulling her small figure with him, Estella staring at the back of his head and observing the dark curls on his head, which repeatedly switched from curls to short purple hair, Estella blinking over a dozen times but the colorful flickering lights in the club made it nearly impossible for her to see.

   She knew he was leading her to a private room in the back, a bathroom perhaps, a musty one in fact, the smell unbearable and relatable to rotten eggs and the back of a garbage truck. She couldn't stand it. The mirrors had been spray painted on in horribly written graffiti and decorated with band stickers. At one point she could've sworn she saw a rat run past the mans boot. She cringed in disgust because she knew Harry would never do a thing like this; A quickie in a nightclub bathroom. Harry, that is to her drugged mind, interlocked their lips unexpectedly, the taste on his tongue which he never hesitated to shove into her mouth had evident traces of cigarettes, a cancer stick she despised greatly. It was unpleasant, so she pulled away.

   "Wait." Her voice came out small and dry. "Stop."

   "What's wrong?" He questioned but never made the motive to stop in any way. Completely disregarding her word of plead as his lips moved down to her neck, Estella jumping away because she hated neck kisses, they tickled. But he was supposed to know that, right? Didn't Harry know that?

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