woman harry styles

1.

STELLA POV

"Stella, do you need a ride home?" My best friend, Danielle, says to me.

I shake my head, picking my cuticle, entranced in my own world.

"Stel, don't forget about the party tonight at the downtown club, kay? Please don't ditch, I promise you'll have fun." She continues, before driving away.

I did not want to go to the party. Not one bit. For multiple reasons, first being, I barely knew anyone except for Danielle. Second, I don't want want to deal with a massive hangover the next morning. Pushing my complaints to the back of my thoughts, I walk to my car. I open the car door, the door making a terrible creaking noise. Clicking my seatbelt, I turn on the radio, playing some random tune. Humming, I pull out of the school parking lot. This was my last year of high school, I was finally a senior, and I could not wait to graduate. I wasn't disliked, but I was by no means popular either, I was, in some ways, invisible. Graduation was only in a couple weeks, so all I had to do was just to get through the day. Arriving at home, I locked the car and slung my worn-out backpack over my shoulder.

"Mom, I'm home!" I shouted, before heading upstairs.

I flung myself onto my bed and turned on my phone to check the time. It was six o'clock, which meant I had three hours until I had to get ready. Perfect. I started doing my homework, wanting to get it out of the way.

--

A bing emitted from my phone, and I turned it face up to see who was texting me, probably Danielle.

"Girl, please tell me you have started to get ready, you have thirty minutes before you have to be there!"

Shit. I check the time, and she's right. As much as I don't want to go to this party, I know it will make her happy, so I'll suck it up. I hop out of bed and start to rummage through my closet, finally deciding on a black bodycon dress, with long sleeves. I put it on, and look in the mirror, and the dress goes to my mid thigh. I really do hate this dress, because it just puts a spotlight on my insecurities. I'm not pretty, and I don't have a good body. I go into my bathroom and put on a light coat of mascara, some concealer, and a bit of highlight on the high points of my face. I brush through my long dark brunette hair, and then go and pick out a pair of heels. Grabbing my keys and my phone, I walk down the stairs, saying a quick goodbye to my mom.

Arriving at the club, I could already smell alcohol. I pull out my fake ID, yes, my fake ID, and I hand it to the bouncer, who takes a quick glance before opening the door. I've immediately greeted by the even more powerful, and disgusting, the smell of alcohol and smoke. My eyes scan the room, looking for Danielle, or at least a friendly face. I spot Danielle, grinding on some random guy. I start to move through all the people, muttering "excuse me" and "sorry". Finally, I tap Danielle on the shoulder, interrupting her "dancing".

"Stellllaa! You made it!" She says, drunkenly.

I laugh at her drunkness, before dragging her away from the perv she was dancing with. We make our way over to the bar, waving down the bartender.

"Hi ladies, what would you like?" The handsome boy says I'm guessing three or four years older.

"Four shots!" Stella says excitedly, giggling.

The man nods and gives us the shots.

"On the count of three!" I say, holding the shot glass in my hand.

"One"

"Two"

"Three!"

I put the glass up to my lips, feeling the substance burn the back of my throat. I drink the rest of the shot, smiling, as Danielle waves over the bartender, wanting more.