Right Now

32. Saying too much

I felt like I was walking on air as I headed to the ladies' toilets. Being around Harry was like being injected with pure happiness. Who needed drugs when you had Mr Styles to make you feel good?

I used the loo and after washing my hands, stared at my reflection in the mirror. Had it really only been two weeks since I stood in the restroom at the nightclub Platform Seven the day I'd met Harry, feeling sick and sad because after getting my hopes up that he was interested in me, he seemed to be ignoring me?

Imagine if I had known then that just a fortnight later I would be sucking on Harry's earlobe in a utility cupboard. It still seemed unreal.

I studied my features, pleased to see that I looked quite good, albeit a little bit flushed after my encounter with Harry.  I was wiping away a few tiny flakes of mascara from under my eyes when the door opened and in walked Ilona McClusky.

Actually, she kind of teetered in on those impossibly long legs of hers like a new foal taking its first steps.

"Fuck," she said, grabbing the edge of the nearest sink to steady herself. "Who made the floor move?"

She regained her balance and looked up at me with wide eyes, her pupils massively dilated. She was clearly off her face.

"Oh, shoe," she said. I looked at her feet, wondering if she was trying to blame her very high heels for her inability to walk properly, rather than her drunken state, then realised she was actually trying to say, "Oh, it's you."

"You're the girl who sung with Harry."

"Yep, that's me," I said. I quickly formulated a plan of action. Be as pleasant as possible and then get the hell away from her as fast as possible.

"I wanted to sing cokey and do sexy dance moves with Harry," she slurred, her Scottish accent even thicker than usual. "He wooden."

I guessed that she was talking about karaoke, and took her last comment to mean that he wouldn't, not that his dance moves were stilted.

"Ah, I think he wanted to give other people a turn," I said, beginning to inch towards the door. The last thing I wanted was a conversation with Ilona.

"But I'm men to be with him," she said, perching her tiny bottom against the sink and pushing her magnificent mane of red hair back off her face. "Otherwise, why the fuck am I here?"

Uh, because you're lucky enough to have scored a free ticket to a One Direction concert and the private party afterwards and you should be thankful, you ungrateful cow.

"Because you're a One Direction fan?" I ventured.

"No, I'm not. They're fucking shite."

I had to call on every single ounce of willpower I possessed not to push her backwards so that she fell arse-first into the sink. What an absolute bitch.

"I hate the music but I luff Harry. I just luff him smuch," she continued, her words sliding into each other.

I watched her face as she spoke, and yes, she was wasted and wasted people have been known to profess their love for anything with a pulse, but this wasn't just drunken rambling. Her eyes were filling with what looked like genuine tears.

"I thought I got invited here tonight cos he liked me, and y'know, stuff was gonna happen but he's pretty much ignored me and I don't unstan why."

She welled up, and several tears slid down her cheeks. I felt very uncomfortable watching her cry like that, and really wanted to get away from her immediately, but I couldn't exactly walk out while she was weeping and confessing all to me.