Smart. (A Marcel / Harry Styles FanFiction)

Photobooths and Football Players

<<Charlotte’s POV>>

Slow down grab the wall…

Ugh.

I hated this music.  When we first arrived, it was mostly techno, which I didn’t mind, but evidently Ben hated and refused to dance to because it was “gay.”  I didn’t even know how music could be gay, but I ended up watching him play fake poker for nearly an hour, while Jess and Harry were off doing more fun things.  I finally dragged Ben to the photo booth, where we found Jess and Harry again.  That was a rather awkward exchange that involved not so subtle glances from Jess and fake smiles from me.  Even more awkward was when Ben tried to kiss me on the cheek and I nearly fell out of the small booth.  I shook the embarrassing memory from my head as heat rose to my cheeks.  The picture turned out rather horrible, but Ben kept it anyway. 

I’d have to find a way to destroy it later.

This song was endless, and so LOUD.  How much could someone repeat the phrase “gas pedal?”  What the hell did “gas pedal” even mean?  Something about sex or drugs I’m sure.

The only thing memorable about this dance so far was the epic migraine I was going to have by the end of it.  Here I sat, rubbing my temples, at one of the decorated tables, alone.  I had no idea where Ben had gone off to; the last thing he said to me was something that sounded like “I need to take a piss” but could have been “I’ll get you a Sierra Mist.”

My thoughts were interrupted by someone pulling out a chair next to me, and I turned towards him, ready to accept my Sierra Mist with a fake smile.

“Hello love, what’s a lovely girl like you doing all alone?” Nope, that definitely wasn’t Ben.  My smile slid off my face and was replaced by the frown I had previously. 

“Who are you?” I said, rather rudely, not really caring what the answer was.  But to be fair, I wasn’t exactly in the best mood. 

My eyes moved back to the dance floor, and I caught sight of a laughing Jess being twirled in a circle by Harry.  It was rather comical how they were trying to dance in an almost ballroom swing style to rap music, but jealousy flared up anyway.  Not only did Harry look great, his hair was curly and I imagined his green eyes shone against the black of his suit without his glasses on, but Jess looked lovely with him.  And they were having fun, unlike me.

The boy let out a light laugh that sounded oddly musical—like clinking of glasses, and I was drawn out of my angry and jealous thoughts.

“I’m Louis.  Louis Tomlinson.  I’m from the only other secondary school around here.  I’m on the football team; you might have seen me around at a game?” I shook my head, and I suddenly realized why I didn’t recognize him.  Our school was rather small, and so was the other local secondary school, so for major events like Prom and Graduation, the schools paired up to save costs.  “Not that you care, seems like you’re rather distracted.  Care to answer my question about why you’re sitting here alone?”

He was perceptive, that’s for sure.  I turned my gaze towards him, and was almost startled by the lightness, yet intensity of his eyes as his stared back at me.  The shade of blue reminded of the ocean during the summer, friendly, but deep.  His hair was feathery and a light shade of brown, messily styled around his face.  He smiled expectantly at me, and he almost reminded me of an elf—no Peter Pan. 

“Well, my date disappeared, ran away, or is wearing an invisibility cloak.” I blushed momentarily, embarrassed by my Harry Potter reference, but Louis just chuckled lightly and winked.

“Harry Potter fan, I like it.  But that still doesn’t explain why you aren’t up there dancing.  And don’t give me the ‘I can’t dance excuse’—it’s too cliché.”