Sooner or Later (Feat. 1D and 5SOS)

5. Party Crashers

He was just standing there in a baggy grey sweater and jeans, one of the most boringly simple combinations of clothes to ever exist. It was the kind of outfit Emma's father often sported when the weather was a bit nippy, and the sweater was often tattered and stained beyond repair. When her father wore it, she considered him lazy and unfashionable, but on this teenage boy, it was practically high fashion. Perhaps his lean physique had something to do with it, or perhaps it was his effortless, boyish grin, or the twinkle in his green eyes. Whatever it was, the boy was gorgeous, even in a sweater.

By now, Emma was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the boy waving his hand in front of her face. When she failed to respond, the teenager's brow wrinkled in confusion, and he stepped back and looked to his friends for help.

"I don't get it," he said with a laugh. "Is she paralyzed?"

Not until he spoke did Emma finally break out of her trance, sputtering and twitching like she'd been aroused from a deep sleep. When her eyes focused, she saw the boy flash a charming smile, exposing the small dimples in his face. It was as if the angels had seen him at birth and pinched his cheeks in adoration. Just like that, Emma could feel herself slipping away again, but his voice kept her chained to reality.

"Excuse me," he said gently so as not to frighten her, "but are you all right?"

"Yeah," Emma replied as she awkwardly shifted her weight back and forth. Instantly, she remembered what she was wearing and felt extremely self-conscious, so she ducked behind the door and poked only her head out. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you were just standing there with this blank expression. Honestly, it was kind of terrifying."

Again his friends started to laugh, chuckling and chortling like a pack of wild hyenas. The boy nearly joined them, but then he saw the look on the poor girl's face. Red as a tomato she was, and her glossy brown eyes kept flickering about, as if searching for the quickest escape. In that moment, he was overcome with an intense feeling of guilt, so he stifled his snicker with his fist and quickly changed the subject.

"So," he went on as he ran his fingers through his curly brown hair. It was a subtle gesture, one he often used to break the nervous tension, but it made Emma's jaw drop and her brain turn into jelly. "Is this where the party is?

Somehow, Emma managed a small head nod. "Uh-huh."

"... Can we come in?" he asked, cracking a smirk. "Or is a password required?"

"Password? No, there's no password."

Hearing voices outside, Rachel Gilbert and her friends came scuttling around the corner like a trio of clucking hens, squawking and squealing with excitement. Upon reaching the door, Rachel shoved Emma aside, and the gawkish thirteen-year-old stumbled back, tripping over her spikey heels. With a loud thwack, Emma slammed into Heidi, and the two collapsed in the corner, knocking over a huge potted plant. In a twisted, tangled heap they lay, groaning and moaning in discomfort.

Rachel didn't even notice their suffering. In one graceful motion, she swung open the door and then leaned against the frame, readjusting her posture until she achieved the sexiest pose for her guests.

"Hi, Harry," she said with a coy smile. "I'm so glad you could make it," and then she opened the floodgates, surrendering her parents' house to the great surge of teenagers who were eager to enter.

In the corner, wedged between the door and the wall like a doorstop, Emma and Heidi were struggling to pick themselves up. Several times they nearly found their footing, but gravity always got the better of them. Trapped on the bottom, Heidi kept spitting Emma's hair out of her mouth. It would take hours for her to rid herself of that bitter taste. Clearly, Emma used way too much hairspray.