Luke Hemmings One Shots

Some kind of Cinderella shit

Inhale.

Exhale.

Just breath, you reminded yourself before stepping out of your car. After giving a quick look around to make sure there was no one, you grabbed the vertiginous heels you had brought and traded them with the little ballerinas you wore. You gave in to the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your dress and checked if your lipstick wasn't going all over your teeth one last time before closing the door and locking your car. Slowly, you made your way to the entrance, already hearing the obnoxious loud music as if you were standing right next to the speakers. The shoes made it impossible to walk faster, however you had all the time in the world tonight, for it was New Year's party, and no one had invited you. Therefore, you took your time to take one step at a time, feeling the soft and tight material of your dress rub against your hips with each and every step. With both hands, you smoothed your black pencil dress, making sure everything was in its right place before finally entering.

As expected, the air was thick and hot, the smell of punch and sweat, along with crazed hormones and other kinds of alcohol some students brought with them. Thanks God, the genius who organized this party decided that the perfect place was a club, not far from the campus, and you headed towards the bar, finding a seat for yourself and ordering a drink. On your way there, you caught the eye of some guys, seeing them eying your from the corner of your eye, but you completely ignored them and never once slowed down.

It wasn't really that you liked parties. They were always over-crowed with drunk and loud people, which was not exactly your thing. But for fuck's sake, hell if you were going to spend New Year alone! You'd rather be here than mopping in your apartment, wondering what was wrong with you for being alone on such a day.

The first glass of Mojito was followed by a second one, and soon, an hour passed, and you had done nothing but watch people dance. You wiggled a bit in your dress to get rid of the feeling of having the material sticking against your skin. The dress was sleeveless, with a 'V' shaped cleavage surrounded by lace, both in the front and in the back, showing off just what was needed – you wished you could wear it without the bra showing in the back, but being an early bloomer, you understood at the age of fifteen that you had passed a landmark, bra-less dressed just weren't for you and they would never be. It ended just above the knees, and matched the black heels you chose to wear tonight as well. Sitting cross-legged on a high chair wasn't the most comfortable position, but you liked the way people's eyes would linger over your legs just a little longer than they should when they walked by, and you had your breathing space, away from the dancing crowd.

There were some people you knew, but none of them recognized you dressed like that. You couldn't blame them because your everyday fashion was far from the Vamp style you sported for the occasion. [Vamp: A femme fatale who, while not necessarily attractive, has a certain allure, and is usually a heartless, man-eating seductress.] Your shoulder-length brown locks lightly brushed over your shoulders whenever you moved your head and the heavy earrings felt cold against your cheeks. A nice feeling given how over-heated the place seemed to be.

"May I ask why you're sitting here on your own?" A man's voice interrupted your endless inner-rambling. Your eyes left the crowd to focus on the guy who took the seat beside your own. Blond messy hair were hidden under a beanie, small ear gauges, lip ring, a tattoo showing from under his worn out white t-shirt. Tall and fit, though not muscular. Strikingly blue eyes. Definitely drop dead hot. Probably used to get what he wants, especially when it came to girls. Must be a dropout, or maybe one of those rich kids? That was something you couldn't guess just by looking at him.

"And how is that any of your concern?" You asked him, turning around on your chair to put your elbows on the bar.

"Just wondering," he trailed off, giving a little bite to his pierced lip. "I saw you walking in earlier, and you didn't leave the bar once."