the balcony ••• awsten knight

prologue

Johnny introduces Awsten to his three friends; he doesn't manage to memorise their names, but he's more focused on the fact that he's almost completed Jawn's goal for him for the night— he's spoke to four people.

Only one more to go, and they have to be a girl.

Awsten sighs when he checks his watch, realising that it's only just hitting eleven o' clock. But, his attention is quickly diverted when a new volume of noise comes bubbling through the door.

A large group come flaunting in, each of them dressed in costumes. Before he can get the chance to pay enough attention to any of them to recognise what they're dressed as, Awsten's eyes lock on someone.

She emerges from the centre of the group, scanning her surroundings; she's much shorter than everyone around her, seemingly due to the fact that she's the only girl that isn't wearing heels, and she clearly finds it difficult to push through the crowd, rolling her eyes when she shoves past the shoulder of a guy who's at least six foot three, though, the action barely moves him.

Her hair is long and dark, originally styled to be curled but has dropped out to messy waves that fall past her shoulders and ends midway down her chest. Smaller strands frame her face, and she brushes her palm over the side of her head, leaving a slight static frizz behind.

Awsten is far too caught up in watching her that he almost doesn't see a tray of shots being walked around. She lunges forwards towards the tray and picks up the first shot she can get her hands on.

Holding the tiny glass between her dainty fingers— Awsten notices the chipped nail polish on her nails when he looks close enough— she knocks back the bright red liquid without a second thought, screwing her face up and shaking her head as she swallows it.

When she opens her eyes, she lifts her gaze and it locks on Awsten's.

His mouth falls slack as the oxygen feels like it's been knocked from his lungs.

If his feet didn't feel like they were glued to the floor, he's sure that he'd be involuntarily tripping and falling in her direction.

Naturally, his first instinct is to look away. Maybe even run away— he could call a Lyft and leave without telling Jawn— all because he's looking at a pretty girl and she's looking right back at him. Then, she's not. Suddenly, his head is spinning.

The next hour passes mindlessly, but quickly, since Awsten's eyes are simply following this stranger around the party, wherever he can spot her.

"You know, I said talk to a girl." Jawn's voice snaps Awsten out of his daze, as he slaps his shoulder in order to gain his attention. "That involves talking, alright? Not just staring at her for an hour."

"Get off," Awsten grumbles, shoving Jawn's hand off of his shoulder forcefully.

"I'm just saying, man," he laughs, holding his hands up in defence, before taking a sip of his drink. "Talk to her," Jawn nods in her direction, though Awsten doesn't really notice, because his eyes are still trained on her anyway, while her's have drifted to her friend who's now engaged her in conversation.

He watches the way she looks into her friend's eyes while they're talking, and the way she leans closer to their ear whenever it's her turn to talk. He watches the way her lips move and finds himself wishing that he was the one that was inches away from them.