Soundtrack: AWOLNATION - Sail
Dedication: jay (@sublime_styles) this fanfic made us friends and now we're finally twitter mutuals what a journey lol i'm so glad you like tangerine and it blows my mind to think that i inspired you to write your own fanfic, thanks so much love, i can't wait for more of your feedback :)
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"I'm gonna wear my best heels tonight," Zayn flaunts himself around his large hotel suite. "Gonna get all pretty for Liam."
"You would," I chuckle, shaking my head at Zayn's ridiculous sense of humour.
I drag the stick of black eyeliner across the top of my left lid, fanning it out at the end to match my right. I take a step back and look at myself in the mirror before adding another touch of dark mascara to my lashes. I end up satisfied with my appearance; bleach blonde hair swept to the side, smokey black eyes and ruby red lips to match my attire.
I'm wearing a vintage-looking flapper style dress, shocking red in hue and tailored as if it was meant to fit my body like a glove. The dress is covered in sequins with small cap sleeves to top my shoulders.
I don't want to sound cocky, but I can't stop looking at myself.
"Red suits you, Scar," Zayn smiles, sitting on the corner of his suite bed to tie up his shoes. "The colour of envy."
I chuckle at that, "You've been drinking, haven't you?"
"Nope."
"You're sober?" I inquire.
"Sober as a squirrel."
"Weirdo," I smirk, rounding back to the mirror for another glance at my figure.
"Scarlet, come here so I can take a picture of you," Zayn says from behind me.
"Why do you want a picture of me?"
"So I can send it to Harry," Zayn smirks as he snaps a picture of me the second I turn around to face him.
"You're not sending shit to Harry!" I run back to Zayn, landing on the bed beside him and scrambling to get his phone from his grasp.
"Too late!" Zayn keeps one hand working on his mobile while the other one keeps me at a distance. "Sent."
"Fuck you! What did you do?" I pout, hitting the lad against his chest to make him show me his phone.
Zayn rolls his eyes, reluctantly handing me his device. At least it's not an unflattering picture. Actually, it's kind of nice. But the message that he sent along with it isn't as...
Well.
Zayn: Another one for ur wank bank xxx
"Why do you always have to insist that Harry and I are a thing, you fucker?" I roll my eyes jokingly.
"It's funny," Zayn chuckles, leaning back on his bed. "I like to tease you."
"He responded," I stare at the screen before the boy beside me even notices.
Harry: Thanks Zayn.
I look at Zayn skeptically, "You mentioned a wank bank and all he can say is thanks?"
"There's more," Zayn lowers his voice as another text gets sent to his phone. I peer over his shoulder to read what Harry said, my breath catching in my throat as I read his response.
Harry: She looks great.
I stare at the message. I don't say a thing. I simply stare.
"He likes you," Zayn says after a moment, making me suddenly scoff.
"Anyone can say I look great without liking me, Zayn. I know I look great," I flip my hair mockingly.
"Come off it. You and Harry flirt all the time."
"Harry and I do not flirt!" I laugh at the boy.
"Yeah, okay," Zayn says, not believing me in the slightest.
I laugh out loud, "What the fuck are you saying?!"
"Show me your phone," he says simply.
"What?"
"Show me your phone!" he lets out a laugh this time.
"Fuck," I chuckle, "take it."
I toss Zayn my mobile. He works on it for a moment, assumingly going through mine and Harry's text messages.
"I really have nothing to hide," I confirm, genuinely amused by this point.
Zayn finishes looking at what he needs to, then hands my mobile back to me with an expression I can't read.
"Yeah," he looks at me, "that's definitely flirting, babe."
"ZAYN!" I shout suddenly. "Fuck that! Where?!"
He simply laughs, standing up off of his bed, "Try looking in the open your eyes department."
I watch him as he reaches the mirror, fixing his quiff with a few pinches of his fingertips.
"I don't like Harry," I insist.
But I think of the boy with his smile, his tattoos, his charm and his dumb wit, and fuck it. Maybe I like him a little, but it's not enough to have any trouble denying it.
"Believe what you want," Zayn says. "I'm calling Liam."
"Oh yeah, where is he?"
"I dunno," Zayn says with his phone to his ear, apparently reaching Liam's voicemail as he leaves a message that I can't help but laugh at.
"Yo, Payne, you should probably try answering your phone sometime because it's your favourite neighbourhood spideyman."
With that, he tosses his mobile onto the desk in the room and looks back at me, "Wanna get drinking then?"
"Yes I do," I grin, stepping next to him where a couple of bottles of vodka rest on the glass table.
"One shot for me," he says, grabbing a bottle, "and one for you," he hands me the other.
"Right out of the bottle?" I chuckle.
"Might as well..." Zayn smirks, immediately raising it to his face and downing the liquid.
"So excited," I voice sarcastically, gulping down a quick shot from the bottle, immediately grimacing but enjoying the burn. "Why is it always vodka with you?"
"Ya don't like it?" he laughs, taking another drink.
"It's okay. Bit harsh. It'd be better if it was mixed."
"There'll be enough time for that at the club," Zayn smiles. "If Liam ever shows up, that is."
"He just texted me," I giggle, immediately checking my phone as it goes off.
Liam: heyyyy be there in a secccc :)
I always know it's Liam texting, even from a simple glance at his message, when there are a million extended letters in all of his words. He never fails to make me smile.
"I got one too," Zayn says, grabbing his mobile as it vibrates on the table. He peers over at my message after he finishes reading his. "Why do you get a cute text and I get chew on my chode?"
"What?" I bark out laughing, snatching Zayn's phone from his hands.
Liam: Chew on my chode.
My laugh echoes throughout the room causing Zayn to shake his head in amusement. I give him a mockingly innocent look, "Maybe Liam just wants you to chew on his chode."
"Of course he does," Zayn winks, unscrewing the cap of his bottle once more. "Let's have another quickie before he gets here."
"Quickie?!" I blurt out, immediately thinking sexual thoughts.
"I mean another shot!"
"Shit, Zayn, you've gotta be specific with that!" I take another swig of vodka as he does.
"Nah, that's Harry's job," Zayn gives me a suggestive look as he places our bottles back on the table.
"Oh my god, quit it!" I slap his arm with intent.
"What? It's not like you haven't had a little something-something from each other now and then, am I wrong?" Zayn wags his eyebrows at me.
"We haven't even kissed," I stare at him dead in the eyes.
He seems a little surprised at the fact but he shrugs anyway, "Give it time."
"Harry and I are friends," I insist.
"You say that now, sweetheart," Zayn grabs his leather jacket off the back of the desk chair, looking at me steadily. "Just watch what can happen in a few weeks."
"You sound like Naomi."
"Naomi sounds right."
We share a look, neither of us averting our attention. The room is still and the suite is silent. Until a muffled voice sings from the doorway, followed by a couple of knocks.
"Hellooooo."
"That'll be Liam," Zayn clears his throat.
I nod and vouch to get the door, walking through the suite and unbolting the front locks before I turn the handle. And there's Liam, standing fit and beaming, right next to a large man who is clearly here for security purposes.
"Andy said they're already there," Liam explains, stepping into the suite momentarily. "We just have to take a quick cab."
"What took you so long?" Zayn comes in from the bedroom.
"I was talking to someone," Liam smirks.
"A girl?"
"Yeah, a girl," Liam gives his eyebrows a quick raise.
We grab our belongings and head out the door, leaving the bottles in the suite behind us. I walk ahead as the two boys lag behind to share their gossip. I keep to myself while we're in the lift but Zayn and Liam's craic is witty enough to listen in on, really.
We have to wait by the hotel doors as the member of security goes out to the taxi but we are let out soon after to a soft buzz of barely fifteen screaming fans. We say a quick hello but are only allowed a certain amount of time with the girls before we are quickly ushered into the cab.
It's May, so the weather is nice. Although it's still a bit cool in the evenings, it's perfect for a nice light jacket and heels. We're in Amsterdam after all, so we might as well make the best of what we have while we're here.
"This is your first time clubbing with us, isn't it, Scar?" Liam asks aloud, giving my leg a soft pat.
"It is," I smile at the boy. "First time clubbing in a while actually."
"Why's that?" he questions.
"I'm not too crazy about clubs, really," I shrug with a tilt of my head. "I've always been more of a pub and tavern sort of person."
"Such a rockstar," Zayn chuckles, flattering me intentionally.
"You're gonna have fun," Liam smiles, patting my leg once more reassuringly.
Usually, if someone was looking for the bar One Direction is at, I would suggest to look for the nearest gay bar. This is one of the few times the lads have actually planned to go to a large, regular club. It's mainly for publicity, but the decision was still made.
The cab comes to a halt and we all filter out. We meet Liam's friend, Andy, with a number of girls outside of the club entrance. I wasn't sure if they were part of our group at first; they were so far up I could barely see. But then I saw them fix each other's hair and take a swig from a mickey of alcohol hidden in one of the girl's clutches and yeah.
They're definitely one of us.
We're all allowed in right away, obviously, since Zayn and Liam were on the guest list. Honestly, even if their managers didn't reserve ahead of time we still would've been let in without a second word.
The nine of us earn soft squeals and hushed whispers of awe as we skip the long line of about fifty people waiting in the cool evening breeze. I lag back with the two One Direction boys, giving a few quick waves to the crowd of glowing faces before we enter the club.
The shots hit me as soon as I walk in.
The club is hotter, sweatier and louder than anywhere I've been in a while. The constant thud of the bass reverberates in my chest as we pass hundreds of warm bodies dancing and grinding against all of us. I'm not sure why I was surprised to smell weed as soon as we entered, since we are in Amsterdam after all, but I was still slightly shocked at the scent.
Andy leads the way as the girls keep closely behind. They cling onto Zayn and Liam as they cling onto me. "Booth!" Andy yells out to our group, pointing in the direction of where he's being led by one of the club employees.
I keep my arms linked with the boys as we shuffle through the tight squeeze of people. I see the booth up ahead as we near it but I'm suddenly yanked back and thrust into the grasp of another man. He's not strong by any means ‒ from what I can feel he's no larger in frame than any of the lads ‒ but the grip he's got on me is that single ounce too forceful for me to escape.
I look around in panic, trying to spot Zayn, Liam or anyone I know, but no one's in sight. All I can feel is the throb of the music, the spiney fingertips that are pressing, bruising into my hips, and the sick, half-hard erẹction that is incessantly rubbing against my backside without letting up.
"Stop! Please stop!"
I yell but my voice is silent. I move but I am rigid. I search but I am blind.
"Get the fuck off of her, mate!" Andy suddenly finds me, pushing through the crowd of people to reach my figure. He frees me from the man's grip, shoving him off of me before pulling me closer to his own safety. "Fuck off!"
I don't look back. I feel like if I did I would have the urge to do much more harm than I would like to tonight. I thank Andy sincerely while he guides me to the booth where our group waits. However, the group didn't do much waiting. They've already cracked open the bottle of vodka and are pouring countless fruity mixes for themselves.
The music is still loud and pounding but it is possible to hear actual speech once we're sat in the booth. The girls with us are taking so many pictures, I think I'm getting a tan from the flash. But even so, I feel safer than I did mere moments ago.
"Finally made it," Zayn jokes as I shakily sit next to him. He immediately senses my demeanour. "Are you okay?"
I turn to Zayn, keeping my voice lowered, "I don't really want to be here right now..."
"Why? What happened?" Zayn suddenly furrows his brows, turning his full attention to me.
"Andy had to come save me. I was almost here but this guy grabbed me... he wouldn't let go..." I find myself rambling as my voice fades out.
"Shit, I felt you pull away but I thought nothing of it," Zayn's pulse visibly rises. His neck and chest flush slightly under the splash of ink across his deep caramel skin.
"It's not your fault," I promise him, reaching out to rest my hand on his bicep. "Just an arsehole being a fucking arse."
"Tonight's gonna be fun, okay?" there is sincerity in his eyes.
"Okay," I agree, though all I can focus on is the wicked banter coming from the five girls sat next to us.
"You need to take a Hoover and vacuum up those spiderwebs and shit 'cause you need cọck," a girl with a heavy European accent continues to laugh with one of the other girls in their circle.
"How is Andy even here?" I casually question, averting my attention around the lot we're with. "Does he just fly out to party with Liam every month or what?"
"Basically," Zayn chuckles, his eyes twinkling in the low light.
There is a moment where we just look at each other; smiling but not entirely. There is a trace of shared bemusement but it's masked by my newfound comfort. The ill feeling; the sickening feeling of unwillingly being used is still there, though.
"Wanna have a drink? Might make you feel better," Zayn offers kindly, "considering the circumstances and all."
"For the quiet, mysterious one in the group you do talk a lot," I show him a soft smile.
"The funny thing is, I've always been quite loud. But for some reason on TV it seems like I'm the quiet one," he tells me with a laugh. "Probably because this lot are so loud."
"They are something," I smirk, thinking of Louis and Niall and the others, and the shit they manage to get up to some days. It's mainly Louis I'm thinking of, really. I would much rather be in bed with him ‒ wrapped in his arms, placing mindless kisses along his fingertips ‒ than to be here in this reckless excuse of an atmosphere when I'm already off to a bad night to begin with. My vision goes back to Zayn as I try to clear my head. "I would like another drink, thanks. But I'll get it."
I stand, balancing on my heels as I lean over our table and pour myself a vodka shandy. It's now that a club promoter decides that it's time for us to take a group picture. Although I feel pretty similar to shit in this moment, it's not like I would ever say no to photos, so I sit back down with my drink and put on my best smile for the camera.
The night goes like this ‒ chatting and drinking and taking photographs ‒ until it somehow becomes a mutual decision that we should all migrate to the dance floor. I've said it before but I can't dance. At least not to this kind of music.
Somebody is going to have to make me an offer I can't refuse if they want me out on that floor again.
"Come on, it'll be fun, Scar," Liam smiles without me having to say anything. He knows clubs aren't my thing but I know he wants to keep us all together. "I'll dance with you if y'like. I'll keep you safe," he whispers as he passes me.
That's it.
I'm sold.
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