Heavy Heart

Daria and Olivia sat quietly in their room, listening to another one of Olivia’s seemingly endless mixes, working on homework Friday afternoon. It had been a long day of classes for Daria, three hours of sociology and an additional hour with Dr. James discussing her philosophy assignment. More than anything, Daria just wanted to lie in her bed and watch Olivia paint her masterpiece with the soft strains of Lana del Rey’s Sirens in the background. That plan quickly crumbled from underneath her when there was a knock at the door.

“I’ve got it,” Olivia offered, going to the door and peering through the small, domed peephole. “It’s Litzy from down the hall.”

After Olivia opened the door for her to enter, Litzy popped into the room, her blonde bob in loose curls. “Hey guys, what are you up to?” she asked in her posh accent, proving that she was a part of a more upper class family from the heart of London. Daria had heard the rumors around the hall, but from all conversations she’d had with Litzy in class, she seemed fairly down to Earth.

“Working on homework,” Daria grumbled form her bed, waving around her pencil in an unenthused circle.

“Perfect,” Litzy replied, beaming brightly. “You all have to come out with us then. One of my mates, Violet – you may have seen her around the hall, she has that little upturned nose. Anyway, her brother-in-law owns a club in London, and we are on the list for tonight. Please come with us. It’ll be a great chance for us to get to know each other a little better.”

Daria’s stomach dropped. If there was something she was inexperienced at, it was certainly clubbing. There weren’t many things of that caliber around Middletown, and even when she went into the city with her friends in high school, she was almost always the sober driver. The thought of going to a fancy London nightclub with people she hardly knew was enough to scare the spirit right out of her. She glanced to Olivia, who she found nodding approvingly with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Yes,” Olivia answered for the both of them. “A hundred times yes.”

“But I don’t have anything to wear,” Daria protested quietly, casting her gaze into her hands.

“What size are you?” Litzy asked unabashedly. Daria looked at her, a little horrified that her friend had the guts to ask her such a personal question. “I can probably lend you something, you look about the same size as me.”

“I’m a four or a six, depending,” Daria replied. “Will that work?”

“I know exactly what you should wear. Come with me.”

In a matter of minutes, Olivia and Daria were whisked into the eight-person at the end of the hallway, being fawned over by girls of all the stages of readiness for a club. Violet, the most ready of all, sat on her lofted bed with legs crossed properly, surveying the scene. There was Lucie and Lacey, as well as Poppy, Sadie, Ivy, and Elsie. Daria was amazed at how many names there were that ended with the same sound, and that they all managed to live in the same room at the end of the hall. Each girl was trading outfits between them, packing overnight bags to stay at Litzy’s house in Sloane Square. She felt utterly overwhelmed at the sudden noise of it all, but when she glanced to Olivia, she felt a little more at ease.

“This is perfect,” Litzy pronounced, presenting Daria with an ensemble. “You’re going to knock them dead.”

Daria’s eyes ran over the black lacy fabric of the dress in her hands, complete with cut out panels on the sides. When she slipped it over her head, she found that they exposed large triangles of her skin, all the way up to just underneath the line of her bra. “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” she asked the jury around her, and all the heads shook in protest.

“Just as long as you don’t steal the spotlight from me,” Violet sniffed in a way that was either joking or completely serious; Daria couldn’t tell.

By the time everyone was done complimenting each other, much to Daria’s chagrin, they were ready to go into the city. It was so completely unlike anything Daria had ever done with her friends back home, fawning over each other, giggling and listening to music. It was so unbelievably stereotypically girly, but secretly, Daria was enjoying it. Olivia was having a better time more outwardly, joking with everyone from her spot on the coach, leading them in Irish drinking songs, pushing Daria to join in.

The club was right in the heart of the most popular district in the heart of London, a swarm of people collecting outside the front doors around a red velvet rope. Neon lights decorated the doors, illuminating the girls’ faces as they marched through the crowd and past the bouncer with pink and green tones. Inside was even more crowded, with loud music pounding from the wide spectrum of speakers for added insanity.

Immediately, Litzy had her by the wrist and was dragging her to the bar. “For your first legal drink!” she insisted, waving for the bartender impatiently. “None of this legal limit at twenty-one nonsense. You deserve a drink. A strong one.”

When the drinks arrived on the counter, Litzy called for everyone to gather around. “Ladies! Ladies!” she called, raising her glass to all of them. “To friendship! And the nights we won’t remember, with the people we’ll never forget!”

The girls around them chimed in with their agreements before downing enormous gulps of their drinks, leaving inches of vacant space at the rims. She followed suit, gulping at the bittersweet brown liquid, allowing it to burn her throat just slightly, the way it was supposed to. Grinning to the rest of them for approval, Violet gave her a little smirk and tilted her glass in towards Daria’s, clinking the surfaces together with the lightest chime.

“Oh my god!” someone screeched excitedly from the depths of the group. It was Lacey, her pin straight blonde hair up in a high ponytail that swung as she turned to grab Lucie. “This is our song! Come on, let’s go!”

In a flash, they were headed towards the dance floor, taking the majority of the group with them. Daria watched as they left her and Olivia behind, Olivia watching her with concerned eyes, quick as a whip. Daria felt completely overwhelmed, the nature of the club completely unfamiliar to her. The music was completely foreign to her due to lack of interest, the people were from places she’d never been, and the drink was very different from the shitty vodka tonics she was used to in high school. She felt herself simply wanting to go home

“This really isn’t me,” she pressed, her mouth close to Olivia’s ear in an attempt to talk over the pulsing bass line. “I’ve never really done anything like this. The girls night outs and the dancing at the bars and what not.”

“Oh, Daria,” Olivia hummed back, taking a large sip from her drink like a true Irishwoman. “You deserve a night out after all the hard work you’ve put in. Loosen up a little. Try and make some friends!”

With that, Olivia gave her hand a little squeeze before leading her onto the dance floor to find their friends. As the went, Daria tried to convince herself to just let go, to let go of all her inhibitions and just dance the night away. She’d heard the whisperings of the girls earlier; famous Brits had been known to haunt the club, and it was truly a privilege for her to be there. She needed to have fun, to bond with these girls who could possibly be an outlet to her. She needed the friends. So, in a moment of bravery, she downed the rest of her drink in four quick gulps, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Atta girl!” Poppy cheered in her borderline cockney accent, clapping her hands together so the bangles on her wrist jingled like a gypsy. “Come dance with me!”

For what seemed like hours, the girls danced to the beat of the blaring music, going back and forth from the dance floor to the bar. Litzy was taking on Daria’s bill for the evening, ordering her drink after drink with a spattering of shots intermingled. By her fourth drink, she was certainly feeling it, dancing loosely with Ivy and Sadie, giggling along with them like she’d always belonged.

“You know, I really do find it heartbreaking that you insist on not calling me,” a voice came in her ear from behind.

Daria straightened up immediately, the tones of the amused voice catching her ear. She knew the source without even looking, but turned anyway to see Harry, hair as mussed as ever, with the thousand-watt smile plastered onto his face.

“You’re joking,” she exclaimed, trying to cover up her embarrassed blush. She glanced around to see her friends staring at the pair with awestruck expressions – all but Olivia, who knew the whole story. “Guys, this is Harry. Harry, these are some of my friends from Birmingham.”

She giggled and covered her mouth, a little hiccup escaping her lips. Harry gave them a quick wave, nodding his head in their direction in acknowledgement. “Nice to meet you all,” he greeted. “Daria, these are some of my best mates, Niall and Zayn. You’ll remember Daria, the girl I managed to spill our drinks all over.”

Daria peered around Harry to see his two friends, a man with mocha skin and a blonde streak through his perfectly coiffed hair, and a blonde dressed a bit like a frat boy, complete with a snapback. They both waved to her, and Daria turned back to Olivia and gave her a strained look, trying to contain a drunken laugh. Olivia’s eyes were about to dissolve into her head from the sheer hilarity of it all.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” the blonde praised, leaning in to give her a hug. “Harry hasn’t shut up about how he’d wish you’d call him. Give the bloke a break, eh?”

“Niall,” Harry seethed, slapping him playfully on the arm. Niall turned to him with an innocent expression, to which Harry responded with a stuck-out tongue. “Daria, let me get you a drink.”

With liquid courage burning in her stomach, Daria snaked her arm through Harry’s. “Everyone keeps doing that tonight! You all must really want me to make a fool of myself.”

With an extremely serious look on his face, Harry shook his head. “No beautiful girl should have to be at a club without a drink in her hand. Follow me.”

As he dragged her off the dance floor with towards the bar, she glanced back to her friends. They were giving a range of reactions – Olivia going forward to greet Niall, Violet falling all over what must have been Zayn, Litzy and Poppy giving her a thumbs up, the rest of the group looking utterly confused. The room was moving too fast for how slowly Harry was pulling her through the crowd, she was finding she could hardly stand in her shoes anymore, and the thought of just sitting down on the floor right there was sounding more appealing by the step.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked when they got to the bar, flagging down the bartender. “Not to sound pretentious, but how did you get in here?

Daria scoffed, pulling off her heels and dangling them on her fingers. “I’ll have you know, Harry Styles, that my friend Violet’s brother-in-law owns this place,” she slurred. “Not so special now, are you!”

“You slay me, Daria,” he said, pressing his hand to his chest. “And you certainly look like you belong here – you look… well, amazing.”

Daria wrinkled up her nose before ordering her drink from the bartender. “You just have to be nice to me because I’m your pseudo-adopted sister.”

“No, I mean it,” he insisted, pulling his pint of beer from the counter and bringing it to his full lips. “Just wow. I thought cappuccino was a good look on you, but this dress is much better.”

“Harry,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I’m only going to tell you this because I’m very drunk. But I’m a very self-conscious person and you’re making me blush. Stop complimenting me.”

She looked up to see him shaking his head in disbelief; that Harry Styles grin curved between his lips. “You’re ridiculous, Daria Holmes.”

“And you have extremely green eyes,” she countered back, before realizing what she said and feeling extremely stupid. “I’m sorry, that was dumb. I’m drunk. Ignore me, please.”

“Never,” Harry protested, handing her the drink she ordered. “Come dance with me.” Daria nodded bashfully and took his hand, letting him lead her back to the dance floor.

“Daria!” someone was crying, and when she turned, she saw it was her entire pack of friends, laughing hysterically and falling over themselves to get to her. “Daria! Violet just got really, really sick. We need to go home.”

“But I was just starting to have fun,” she protested, gesturing between her and Harry. “We were going to dance, and I just got another drink!”

Litzy came forward and grabbed Daria’s wrist, taking her hand from Harry’s. “No, Daria. We need to go. We need to go now.” She was overemphasizing her words, compensating for the fact that they were slurred together in a nearly incomprehensible way. Daria caught a glimpse of Violet, who was looking extremely green, and agreed to go.

“Wait!” Harry called after her. She turned to see him looking rather dejected, green eyes less strikingly clear than normal. “Will you still be in London tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she answered going back to him, the girls calling after her to come with them, but Daria was starting to be too drunk to know which way was up. “I’m staying at Litzy’s house in Sloane Square.”

“Perfect,” Harry breathed, running a hand through his divinely messy hair. “Please let me take you to dinner tomorrow. I’ll drive to back to Birmingham and everything. Please.”

Daria considered it for a moment, her drunken state clouding her judgment. She knew that sober, she could hardly stand Harry Styles, his calculated arrogance too much for her to bear. But with the drunken haze clouding her eyes, she saw him for what he really was: a sweet boy who really did just want to take her out, his mauve lips curved into a hopeful half-smile.

“Okay,” she agreed through a waterfall of laughter. “Okay! I’ll let you take me out. I’ll text you my number and you can call me tomorrow when we’re more sober.”

“Daria!” Violet was screaming at her impatiently, her eyes bloodshot. “Come on!”

With an apologetic look on her face, she waved goodbye to Harry, and left him standing there with both their drinks in his hands. Daria Holmes had a date with Harry Styles. As she ran out with her girlfriends, she glanced back over her shoulder to see him still watching her, and it was only then that the brevity of it all set in on her like a ship casting its sails.