Painted Lady {h.s}

take me out *

{"I know I won't be leaving here
With you"}

★HARRY★

April 25th

1997

The room is spinning.

My eyelids feel like they are a hundred pounds, threatening to shut at any instant. My head is buzzing and there's an annoying ringing in my ear that won't shut up. I hold my head up with my hand, leaned up against the bartop. The crowd has died, it being far past midnight at this point. Zayn left first, not telling anyone where he was heading at such an early hour. Harlow is passed out in one of the booths, my gaze floating to her lifeless body every now and then to make sure she is still there. Mitch has been standing at the jukebox for hours, patiently waiting for songs to end just so that he can queue up another one.

I've been glued to one seat at the bar, sipping on my fifth scotch of the night. I can hardly even remember when I decided I'd be sitting here for the rest of the night, or when I even ordered this fifth scotch, but I don't care. This is exactly what I needed tonight, a distraction. The ringing in my head won't quit, sounding almost like an annoying bird chirping at an early hour.

Cotton Eyed Joe plays through the jukebox, and a slow smile grows on my face. I lift one arm in the air and begin to fist pump to the beat, getting lost in the music and memories. I can tell my brain wants to be sad about the memories of this song, but the copious amounts of scotch running through my blood helps to mask it.

An annoying squawk invades my eardrums, ruining my nostalgic dance moves. I look to my right, searching for the seagull that has made its way into the bar.

"What are you doing!?" A blonde woman laughs next to me, sitting close.

Her long blonde hair is draped casually over one of her shoulders, her back straight against the counter. Her bright blue eyes lock onto mine, glowing in the dark bar. A large, toothy, smile breaks out onto her face, staring at me like I said something funny.

I wrack my brain for answers on who the hell this woman is. I don't remember meeting her, let alone inviting her to sit next to me. She's beautiful, don't get me wrong, I don't mind sitting next to her at all. But I feel horrible for not even knowing her name.

"I'm sorry, what's your name again?" I ask in the most sincere voice I could muster up.

She laughs loudly, informing me that the bird call noise I heard had come from her. "Don't be silly, H!"

My stomach drops at the use of that nickname, but I swallow back the nausea. I laugh along with her, going along with a joke I didn't know I made. I take another large swig of my scotch, focusing on the way her smile makes my heart sink. She looks so familiar but I can't seem to place a name to her face.

"So, as I was saying, I just moved to California from North Carolina. It was the scariest thing I've ever done, leaving my whole family..."

I tune out her words, watching the way her mouth forms her words. I swear I've seen those lips before, but I have no idea where. I've now connected the ringing in my ears to the piercing pitch of her voice. I nod along to her words as if I'm paying attention.

"Wanna get out of here?" I cut off her rambling, her eyes going wide with surprise.

"Where would we go, it's nearly two in the morning?" She mutters quietly, staring intently into my eyes.

"I know a place." I say, standing from the stool and stumbling a bit.

She hops off her seat and reaches out for my hand. I unwillingly lace our fingers together, her hand sitting awkwardly in mine. I drag her towards the jukebox, tripping over my own feet. We walk straight up to Mitch, who sways casually to the music.