One More Fight [EDITING]

6: ADELAIDE

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January 2015

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    The pulsating lights, pounding bass, dizzying heat and stench of sticky alcohol and sweat of the nightclub usually feel claustrophobic to me, but this one time, I feel free. Despite the stupid overplayed song the DJ is mixing, the freedom running through me is electrifying, especially knowing Fletcher and I have finally finished the stupid presentation we had to do today. Or maybe it's the fact Fletcher is here with me that's making me feel the freedom.

The whole time we've been working together for the past two weeks, he's been singing this stupid song and had to get it in our presentation about The Hobbit.

How does someone work Uptown Funk into Middle Earth? Well, Fletcher Ward managed it, and I hope it just gets us the full marks we deserve. This man has a successful career in writing ahead of him if these past two weeks are anything to go by.

Fletcher's arms wrap around my waist and pull me towards him, out of the strobe red lights that remind me of blood – something that you'd think wouldn't be nice, but weirdly set the tone for this club.

"Are you dancing with me, Mr Ward?" I joke.

He smirks and shakes his head. "Unfortunately, not. We should get you home. We have a lecture in the morning."

I pout. "Spoilsport."

His arms lock around my waist so he can lead me out. "They're closing after the next song, Ades. Come on, you're tipsy enough. Let's get you to bed."

I groan and thank everything that he's holding me up as we walk out into the crisp January air. He quickly removes his leather jacket and puts it around me. My arms slip in, and I'm greeted with his citrus scent.

"Look, you can crash in my bed tonight, all right? I don't think going up that hill will be good right now," Fletcher says.

I snort as we take the steep stairs up towards the block of flats. "Trying to be a gentleman or get me naked?"

He scoffs. "I'm trying to make sure you can sleep off the alcohol!"

I giggle as we reach the top. These heels were not the best thing to wear tonight. "That means I have to do an awkward trip to lecture tomorrow wearing these! People will think the worst of me!"

Fletcher grins as we take a break.

I take the heels off, carry them in my left hand and steady myself. "I can walk fine now."

"If you're that fussed about the lecture in the morning, I'll go in your stead. It's just the second lot of presentations. It's not quite mandatory is how Tim put it in his email yesterday. But it would be nice for your fellow students, or something like that," Fletcher says.