The Night We Met

II

Harry

"Fuck me," I groan, slamming my palms against the marble sink. This is my fifth trip to the bathroom in the past hour since I met that mystery girl. I haven't been able to get my mind off of her and it's fucking frustrating.

I don't even know what it was about her. I've met a lot of beautiful women, and people in general, but none of them demanded my attention in the same way that she did. Physically, she was attractive. Her pants hugged every curve of her body and the shimmery low-cut shirt she wore shone brightly against her skin and enhanced the swell of her breasts. It took everything in me not to stare shamelessly at her figure.

Besides her body though, I was lost in her eyes and delicate facial features. Her dark brown hair framed her face and made the greys in her eyes stand out. Her lips were plump and coated in this pink gloss that practically made me drool. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyelashes were coated in just enough mascara to make them seem impossibly long. I could have stared at her for hours if she let me.

But I think the thing that drew me the most to her was her casual composure in front of me. If she knew who I was, she didn't let on. She talked to me like a human in those 30 seconds and not an object. It was refreshing and not something I realized I desperately needed - or wanted - until after she left.

I mumble to myself under my breath as I blow my nose and then wash my hands with cold water. I need to find a way to stop thinking about her. I'm going to drive myself insane.

I feel a sense of dread seep into me as I leave the restroom and re-join David's lame party. I was invited solely because it would look weird if I wasn't, seeing as David is my manager. Although "invited" probably isn't even the right word. He said "you're coming" and that was the end of that.

I met David about four years into my career. I was stupid to think he was better than my other manager, Jeffrey. David offered me anything I could have dreamed of - fame, money, sex, drugs, etc. At the time, it was appealing. I was selfish and wanted it all. I was unable to see that I already had everything I needed right in front of me. Jeffrey wasn't just my manager. He was my friend and I lost him, along with my sanity, the minute I decided to succumb to the miserable existence of becoming a fame-hungry celebrity.

Several people greet me and someone shoves a drink into my hand once I re-join the group. Without thinking, I take a sip and immediately regret it. I spit the liquor, which tastes both bitter and hot, back into the cup with a grimace on my face.

"That's David's signature drink apparently," my assistant, Jade, comes up and tells me. She snickers at my facial expression.

"It's fucking terrible," I reply, not even trying to hide my disgust. "What the fuck's in it?"

"Tequila, tuna fish juice - "

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I wish I was lying," Jade says. She visibly shutters. "I think there's also tabasco sauce and a touch of vodka in it - "

"No. Nope. That's it for me for the night," I declare. I move around Jade's small frame to place my glass on the bar top right behind her. No one should ever be subjected to drinking that.

"Don't let one drink ruin your whole night, Harry," Jade says with a sigh. I turn back to face her, her brown eyes boring uncomfortably into my own.

"My night was ruined the minute I came here," I tell her. She rolls her eyes.

"Don't be dramatic - "

"Don't tell me not to be dramatic, Jade. You know my feelings about David."