Golden [h.s.]

3. lotus

I wake up to the sound of honking and people cursing, groaning as I toss the pillow over my head.

Who needs an alarm when you live in New York?

I slowly sit up in my bed, looking out the large, floor length windows that take up the walls of my bedroom as I let my eyes adjust.

It's a rainy day, with fog and dark clouds touching the tops of the skyscrapers. I stretch, the night and its memories flooding through my brain.

I'm not an idiot. Now that I'm sober and I'm able to sift through my thoughts, I can put two and two together.

Harry Styles.

That's who I spent my night with. How did I not recognize him before? I knew he was in that famous boyband, I knew they all were doing their own thing these days.

I've seen countless celebrities walk through that bar; was I really that infatuated by him that I completely lost all common sense?

In my defense, with my life, I hardly have the time to keep up with these celebrities, especially working in our bar. Lydia always says I must live under a fucking rock — her words exactly.

My phone suddenly rings, interrupting my thoughts. I frantically run my hands between the sheets, feeling for the phone, and glance at the screen once I get ahold of it.

Speaking of Lydia.

"Hey, Lyds," I answer, getting out of bed so that I could tidy it up. I do a little stretch, almost losing my balance a bit.

"Ella! I've been trying to get you all morning, you never called me last night!" My friend says, and I remove the phone from my ear to look at the time.

Holy shit, it's a little after 2 in the afternoon. I really did sleep the morning away.

"Fuck, I came home at like 5:30 and—," Lydia cuts my off with a sound that resembles a cat.

"5:30?! Didn't your shift end at like 2?"

I laugh. "You didn't let me finish! You wouldn't believe who came into the bar last night."

"Wait! Can I guess? Was it Jake Gyllenhaal again?" Lydia swoons over the phone.

I scrunch my face up in disgust before I laugh again. "Ew! Fuck no...it was Harry Styles," I say, waiting for her reaction.

"No. Fucking. Way. That man is literally the physical embodiment of the word 'sex'. Tell me everything!"

"Lydia!" I hiss into the phone with her crude humor and no sense of filter. I laugh, shaking my head as I launch into my story. By the time I finish, Lydia is reeling.

"You're something else, Ella. You spent the night with Harry Styles, and didn't even fuck him!" I gasp and laugh loudly again. "Lydia! It wasn't like that," I mumble.

I wasn't like her — sure, I could have fun, but my best friend was far more bold than I was. I could never.

Besides, those aren't my intentions. I honestly was just intrigued by him and his aura; Harry was captivating, drawing me in with those intense emerald eyes and obvious charm.

"Anyways, this calls for celebration! You know that new club that opened downtown? Lotus, it's called," Lydia says and I widen my eyes. Lotus just opened a few weeks ago, and apparently it was super exclusive.

"Wait, isn't that a strip club?" I ask and Lydia laughs.

"No! I think there's just dancers hanging from the ceiling, some real cool shit. This sexy guy came into the shop and loved my work so much, and get this! He's friends with the owner and invited me and said I could bring anyone, so naturally, you and I are going tonight!" Lydia squeals and I playfully roll my eyes.