Matilda | Harry Styles

SEVEN

Harry didn't speak much during our journey to the club, but nobody seemed to bat an eyelid. I wondered if this was how he usually was - quiet, or if he simply picked his moments to interject. It did appear to be the latter, because he did, at times, make a statement to the group, which would cause the entirety to laugh in the desired response, or nod intently. When he spoke, everybody seemed to listen; his mere presence commanded undivided attention. But I wouldn't give it to him. When he did choose to speak, I let my eyes drift to peer out of the window, choosing to focus, instead, on the blur of bright lights that we drove past.

It was a Friday night, and Vegas was alive. Despite the time of evening, the streets were so brightly illuminated, that it could've almost passed for early afternoon. I watched in awe, as the streets were packed with lines upon lines of people, happily and energetically weaving their way around. I could hear the buzz of music, even through the windows of our cab, as performers paraded through the streets, many in costumes of glitter and feathers, and intricate detail. I couldn't stifle the smile that was fighting its way onto my lips. It was like every sense of mine was heightened; everything was alive. This was what I'd wanted.

I looked up, as the cab came to a halt, to see Harry watching me, again. I wasn't sure how long he'd been watching me; if he'd noticed how I'd disassociated myself from the conversation when he'd chosen to join it. I watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, his eyes narrowed a little, appearing focused. I erased the smile from my own face before I turned my head, breaking our eye contact. No. Not tonight.

I wasn't sure who had selected the club for the evening, or how they'd come to choose it, but it was absolutely packed. Harry's security surfaced from a cab of equal discretion that had parked behind ours, and they began to envelop the group of us. The line to enter this club appeared to wrap around the entirety of the crowded street - it was hard to decipher where each crowd began, and another ended. Harry walked ahead of us, members of his security moving to stand either side of him, whilst another went to stand behind Elin, Pauli and myself, who walked at the back of our group.

I noticed the men working upon the door, and how they stepped aside at the mere sight of Harry, to let us enter without delay. I couldn't help but feel a little bad as we cut in front of the large crowd awaiting entry - the fact that everybody just immediately cleared out as we were navigated by Harry's security, for the sole purpose of letting us in before them, was a foreign concept to me. I remembered how Grace and I had stood in line outside of clubs in London - different atmosphere, but similar crowds - and how we'd waited for what felt like hours in hopes of getting in; yet now I formed part of those who were let in without a moment's hesitation.

We were led straight through the crowd, amongst all the noise, and I could feel the floor shaking at the beat of the music and the buzz of chatter that filled the air. I couldn't help but peer around me, elated laughter greeting my ears, with odd shouts and squeals as couples danced to the music, friends linking arms and partying with one another, and costumed individuals, as I had seen outside, parading through. We finally stopped upon arriving at a section of our own, elevated slightly upon a couple of stairs, lined with rounded leather booths, and lit in vibrant colour like the remainder of the club.

"Mr Styles," a voice sounded, suddenly, as we'd taken each of our seats. Elin sat upon my left, Pauli on my right, and Harry sat across from me, beside Mitch and Sarah. I looked up - a man in a suit, with a glittering smile upon his face. The entrance to our area was now being blocked by Harry's security, and so this man had been let through, deliberately. He continued, "Welcome. We're so glad you could join us this evening, all of you," he gestured to our group, before he shook Harry's hand. Harry appeared to return his smile, his face suddenly highly expressive as he spoke to this man. "As a courtesy," the man paused, and gestured for some servers behind him, each clad in their own sparkling outfits and wearing their own bright smiles. They stepped into our area, and I was most captivated by the way in which their heels were so incredibly high, but they carried themselves with ease, balancing trays loaded with shot glasses, wedges of lime, tiny bowls of salt, and a very, very expensive-looking bottle of tequila. I couldn't stifle the raise of my eyebrow - all of this, just at Harry's arrival?