Song of Chapter: Here, by Alessia Cara
Elle
Loud. That was the atmosphere of the club that I was currently in. The music was so loud that I felt my head was going to explode. And as for the people, they seemed more like animals. Well at least they behaved that way. I, however, was quite the opposite, seated on a stool at the bar, quietly sipping on a glass of soda.
I think I made it pretty obvious that I didn't want to be here, with all the slouching and pouting I was doing. This place wasn't exactly my scene. It was way too loud and way too crowded. I would have very much preferred to be at home, reading a really good book or watching television, not sitting at a bar in some club with a massive headache.
I would have left, but couldn't. I'd come here with my friend Roxie. She was my only friend, really, and being the one with a drivers permit, she was my ride home. Unfortunately enough for me, my ride was somewhere lost in the sea of sweaty people on the dance floor.
I knew I shouldn't have let her talk me into coming here. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have possibly thought that I would have enjoyed being at a place like this? We aren't even supposed to be here. Our fake ID's may have claimed that we were 18, but I was far from it, and while Roxie may have looked the part, I for sure didn't.
Normal 16 year old's don't hang out at clubs. Or do they? God I needed to get out more. If we get kicked out of here, I'm going to kill Roxie. Actually, no. That method seems a bit too drastic. Maybe I'll just not speak to her for a few days, possibly weeks if I'm feeling evil. Oh, who was kidding? You don't not speak to your only friend. Not if you don't want to end up friendless.
Peering around, I took in all the drunk and sweaty people, wrinkling my nose in disgust. I really just wanted to go home. A sigh left my lips as I pushed my now empty glass away from me. Just then someone sat on the stool next to me, and me being me, let my curiosity get the better of me. Turning to look at whoever it was, I found a pair of bright eyes staring back. The stranger flashed me a smile and then turned his attention to the bartender, ordering his drink quickly. I shifted my gaze to the counter, fidgeting uncomfortably.
The boy is allowed to come order himself a drink, Elle, my conscience rolls her eyes. Don't be a prude.
I chose to ignore her, instead partaking in a silent prayer that the stranger would leave without bothering me.
"Hi there." Fuck!
Well, what did you expect, my conscience scoffs. Don't expect God to feel sorry for you just 'cause you finally decided to acknowledge him.
I do too acknowledge him, I frown.
Yeah, whatever.
I let my eyes meet the stranger's, not wanting to come off as rude for ignoring him. His eyes were jade green, a lot like mine. His brown hair was more so wavy than curly, and came down a little above his shoulders. I didn't particularly his type attractive, I wasn't a fan of the long hair, but his suited him. Not that it was that long, though. It was just perfect, I decided. His lips were pink, and due to the wide grin that adorned his face, dimples indented his cheeks.
"H-hi," I stammered out in a rush, averting my gaze elsewhere. I blushed profusely, somewhat embarrassed for no reason at all, silently swearing at myself for stuttering like a complete idiot.
"I'm Harry. Harry Styles," the guy informed, taking a swig from the beer he'd just ordered. "And you are?"
No one, I wanted to say. Absolutely no one.
"Elle. Elle King," I muttered, not even bothering to look at him.
"Elle," Harry repeated, drawing it out as if testing it on his lips. "I like it. It suits you." I remained silent, not entirely sure what to say, so I just sat there being awkward.
Why am I not surprised, my conscience scoffs. If you haven't already noticed: she hates me.
"Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?"
"Thanks, but no," I politely declined. "I don't drink."
"I could get you something that's non-alcoholic," he offered.
"It's fine," I tell him.
He nodded, "Are you here alone?"
"No, I'm here with a friend," I informed, turning in my sit to motion at the people on the dance floor. "She's somewhere lost in that crowd."
"You don't exactly look like you want to be here."
"I don't."
"Why not leave then?" he questioned.
"My friend's my ride home."
"If you don't want to be here, then why'd you come in the first place?" he interrogated.
"That is a really good question," I smiled. "One that I don't have the answer to."
He chuckled, "I could take you home, if you'd like," my eyes widened at that.
What do I say? No? I can't just agree to let a complete stranger drive me home. But he isn't a complete stranger. I know his name after all, so i suppose that makes him an acquaintance. But still, I can't. It would be wrong to just leave Roxie here all by herself.
But she left you here at this bar all by yourself, didn't she?
Shut up conscience!
Do you want to go home or not?
I do.
Then stop being a mute and say yes, you idjit!
"You aren't some serial raper who's going to kidnap me and turn me into your sex slave, are you?" I asked nervously. I wasn't trying to be funny, but apparently I came off that way, considering Harry busted out into a fit of laughter. When he noticed the serious look on my face, however, he quickly shut up.
"I'm not," he assured. "And I won't."
"Good, 'cause I've got pepper spray and I'm not afraid to use it," I warned.
Harry grinned, "I'll keep that in mind."
Getting off the stool he was sitting on, he helped me off mine. I stumbled a bit in the 6 inch death traps Roxie had talked me into wearing-she practically threatened me-and I'm pretty sure that if it weren't for Harry, my face would have paid the floor a visit. He led me out of the club, which I was happy to leave, and to his car.
Harry
I tried to focus and keep my eyes on the road, but she was making it rather difficult. My God, was she beautiful! Sure, I'd met lots of other beautiful women before, but none quite like her. There was something about her, an innocence, and that made her all the more beautiful.
Every minute or so I stole a glance at her, but not once did she look at me. Not even for a second. All she did was stare out the window. She didn't speak much either. In fact, the only time she spoke was to give me directions. But even then, she didn't look at me.
Did she not know who I was? Probably not. She didn't seem to have recognized me back at the club, and even when I told her my name, I got absolutely no reaction from her. I'm pretty sure she had no idea who I was, it was either that or she deserved an Oscar for the performance she was giving.
It didn't bother me though. I was happy to have met a girl who didn't scream in my face or ask me for a picture and autograph. It was refreshing and brought this feeling to me. A feeling of normalcy, I figure.
I hadn't felt such a thing in a very long time. It made me happy, and very thankful to the girl who was sitting next to me. But still, I wish she'd say something. Something other than the darn directions to her house. I was grateful that she wasn't one of those talkative people, the kind that went on and on about nothing, but I didn't like the silence that lingered in the air, and so I decided to get rid of it.
"How old are you?" I blurted, genuinely curious, but also because it was the first thing that popped into my head. She looked a bit young, if you asked me.
"I'm 18," she informs.
"I'm 21," I tell her, wanting to keep the conversation going.
"Are you sure?" she frowns. "You don't look 21."
I chuckled, "Well, you don't exactly look 18," I said, peering over at her.
She bit her lip, shrugged and went right back to looking out the window, putting an end to our little chat. It was about 10 minutes later that she spoke up again.
"Make a left," she told me, and I did as ordered.
We were suddenly driving into a neighborhood, a suburban part of London, it seemed. The streets were quiet, except for the sound of dogs barking and the occasional vehicle that went by. The houses all looked similar. They weren't too big, but they weren't exactly small either. They were all painted white and had red doors. I frowned at that. They were your typical family homes, a lot like the ones you saw in the movies.
"Stop right there," she instructed yet again, and like before, I did as I was told, pulling up to the curb right in front of one of the white houses, only this one had a blue door. I stared at the house a bit too long, eyebrows knitted together skeptically.
"I had my parents paint the door blue," she tells me. "I didn't want our house looking like everyone else's. It just creeps me out how they all look exactly the same."
"It's good to be different," I expressed, and earned myself a small smile from Elle.
"Thank you for driving me home," she spoke softly, her voice quiet.
"Well, I'd rather save myself the trouble of attempting to kidnap and make you my sex slave, consequently getting myself pepper sprayed," I mused, and watched as her smile grew wider, gracing her naturally pink lips.
"Smart thinking" she grins. "Don't even think about coming back later tonight. I've got a dog, a really big one, and she'll eat you at command."
I threw my head back against the car seat, my chest rumbling with laughter. "I can assure you, when I come back it will be for other purposes, not kidnapping you."
"When you come back?" she questioned, brows raised.
"What? You don't want me to come back?" I challenged.
"I barely know you," she sputtered.
"So? Isn't that all the more reason for me to come back?" I pointed out. "We could get to know each other."
"I-I don't think that's a good idea," she rushed to unbuckle her seat belt, quickly opening the car's door and stepping out.
She stooped her tiny frame a bit to look at me, "Thank you again, for driving me home. It was really nice meeting you Harry Styles, but I'd very much like to remain acquaintances." And with that, she shut the door and rushed to get to her front door.
I sat there in my car watching as she fumbled around in her purse, in search of her keys no doubt, plenty confused at what had just happened. Why didn't she want to see me again? Was it something I did or said? Sighing, I started my car, pulling off the curb and heading home.