Meet Me on Thames Street • All Time Low

Chapter Eight

                                                *Marianne*
I woke up in Jack’s arms again. It was a nice feeling, having him holding me close to him with my head tucked under his chin. As much as I hate to admit it, I really didn’t want to move in fear of waking the sleeping boy up. His hair was plastered all over his forehead and there was a small smile gracing his lips. I’d be lying if I said I was uncomfortable.

I silently giggled when I began to remember what happened the night before, and Jack’s arms tightened around me, pulling me closer to his chest.  I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my own and my fingers were clutching his shirt. Add in the fact that he smelled really nice and I was in heaven.

The night before, Holly hadn’t been feeling too well and Zack decided to stay with her to make sure she was okay. The rest of us had piled into the lobby for a bit before dog piling in the other room, but we could only sit there for so long without getting bored with each other. We decided to stop being bums and go out for a bit, and Jack practically shoved me out of the hotel room after I got changed into something decent.

“Jack, slow down!” I was laughing so hard and clutching my stomach with one hand while the other was clasped tightly in the Lebanese boy’s. He was literally dragging me down the street.

“I just want to get away from the others for a while,” he said in a serious tone.

“Why?” I questioned. Surely there had to be an explanation.

“It’s just... I’m around the guys all the time, you know? I mean of course they’ll always be my best friends and all but sometimes I like to just hang out with normal people.” His grip tightened on my hand and I knew there was more to the story than what he was telling, but I wasn’t going to push it.

“Alright then. Where to, Mister Barakat?” I asked with a small smile.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad of a dancer are you?” I could practically see the mischief looming in his brown eyes.

“I’d say an eight,” I exaggerated. I was actually the worst dancer I knew. I couldn’t keep any sort of a rhythm with my feet; that was why I played bass.

“We’ll see about that,” Jack smirked before pulling me into a lightly lit alley.

“Is this even safe?” I whispered.

“Of course it’s safe. I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.” He crossed his heart as he said this, earning a blush from me.
I was tugged into a nearly vacant club. The floor was covered in red and black tiles, there was a small stage on one grey wall, and a bar on another.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack asked, gesturing toward the burly bartender. I shook my head with a small smile and he excused himself to get a beer for himself. The last thing I needed was to get drunk in a sketchy alley in a city I didn’t know too well with a guy I just met.

Jack came back with his beer in one hand and a soda for me in the other. He led me to a small table near the bar and sat down across from me.

“So tell me about yourself,” he suggested.

“There’s not much to tell,” I responded. I sucked at small talk.

“Oh come on, you’re from Ireland. That much I know. You came to one of our shows before, right?” I was astonished. Jack remembered me. ME.

I had seen the band in concert in March 2014, and met Jack and Zack after. Jack was nicer than I had expected, and hung out with me for a bit while talking to fans. It was the best night of my life before England, and I was just shellshocked that he remembered it.