Like Clouds Cross Skies

“If I break my neck tonight it's all your fault.”

Lianne rolls her eyes, but she laughs, and I'm surprised she doesn't stab herself in the eye with her mascara wand. “You won't fall over, Kailey.”

“Have you seen how high these bad boys are?” I retort, turning away from the window to gesture to my shoes.

“You're such a man,” she says, putting her mascara away. “We'll get you up to ten-inch heels soon.”

“I don't have a death wish, thank you very much,” I answer, just as headlights swim into view outside. Nervous excitement has my stomach curling round on itself, coiling tighter and tighter like a snake round its prey. “Cab's here. You ready, Miss Features Editor?”

A smile stretches across Lianne's face, wide and bright. However much clubs aren't my scene, I wouldn't miss celebrating Lianne's promotion for the world. She's been bending over backwards for that magazine and now it's paid off. The magazine have hired out one of London's best clubs for her, the youngest features editor ever, and I'm her plus one.

And I guess, after everything, a night out is kind of what I need right now.

* * *

“Names?”

“Lianne Door and Kailey Hart.”

The bouncer lazily scans his clipboard, flipping through pages. All I can think about is how mortifying it would be if we didn't get in and had to do the walk of shame past the queue.

“Alright, go on in, ladies,” he says, waving us along as he moves the rope aside.

“Thank you!” Lianne says as we step through the doorway. If she grins any wider her head will split in half.

“These stairs are a death trap,” I call to her. The music pounds louder as we descend, the bass reaching fingers into my chest, gripping tighter the closer we get.

We round a corner and all I see is dark and light and people. Lianne grips my hand and pulls me into the bodies, weaving between the dresses and shirts and heels towards the bar. She grabs the bartender's attention when he's free and orders two vodka and lemonade's.

And so it starts. The drink warms the back of my throat, the music thrums in my gut. I open my hands and all the problems that have been dogging me for weeks just drift skyward like balloons, gone, gone, gone.

Everything is spinning a little more than it should when Lianne comes up to me a while later. I'm at the bar, chatting to some guy. He's okay, but if I focus a little too hard then his face morphs into Aaron's. I'm not drunk enough yet; I'm only tipsy. I need to forget some more. I need to forget about guys.

“Would you do me a favour?” Lianne yells into my ear.

I sigh. “Depends what it is.”

“I've gotta take a call,” she explains, slurring her words a little. She's well on her way to being bladdered. “While I'm gone could you babysit Harry Styles for me?”

I laugh. She's worse than I thought. “Do you wanna try that one again? What do you really want me to do, Li?”

She shakes her head violently. “No, no, Kailey, I'm being serious. Babysit Harry for me. Look, look!”

She waves her hand towards the other end of the bar and, sure enough, past the lights and the people I can just about make him out. He stands alone, nursing a drink.

“Were you talking to him?” I ask Lianne.

“Yeah, I wanna write a feature about him. Please, Kail, please just babysit him. I'll pay you, how much do you charge?”

“Why do you keep saying babysit? He's like the same age as us,” I answer, but she just giggles.

“Whatever, I don't give a shit, just keep him there till I come back, okay?” she says, beginning to back away. “I love you, you're a life saver!”

“What the hell am I meant to say to him?” I yell back. “I don't even listen to One Direction!”

Lianne just shrugs and grins, slipping into the crowd.

I glance back at the guy I was speaking to. He laughs awkwardly and says, “What was that all about?”

I shake my head. “I don't even know. Thanks for the drink, though,” I reply, downing the last of it before beginning my battle through the crowd.

To be quite honest, when I came out tonight the last thing I had expected to happen was for my best friend to saddle me with a boy band member. I didn't sign up for this, I really didn't. I've seen the stories in the gossip magazines, 'womaniser' and all that crap. If he makes a move I'll deck him and tell him I'm a lesbian.

I emerge from the crowd right behind Harry. I know it's him because of that mop of hair, and as I stare at the back of his head I wonder what I'm going to say. Hi, that drunk girl, Lianne, who you were just talking to, asked me to babysit you. Just stand there and look pretty - I know you won't find that hard – until she comes back, alright?

“Hi!” I begin, shouting over the music.

Somehow he hears me, glancing over his shoulder. He smiles, dimples forming in his cheeks. I want to punch him already.

“Hey, you alright?” he answers, perfectly casual, but there's a simmering of confusion in his eyes.

I'm tempted to say 'no', but I bite my tongue. “Yeah, um, you know that girl you were talking to? Lianne?”

“Yeah?”

“She asked me to, uh-” shit, I can't say 'babysit', “-keep you company while she's gone.”

“Oh, okay,” he answers. “I'm Harry, by the way.”

“I know,” I snap. His smile falters a little, and at the sight of it regret washes over me. But it only takes a second for the regret to be replaced with blind annoyance. “I'm Kailey.”

Our conversation, if you can call it that, drops into momentary silence. I'm sure my hostility is rolling off me in waves.

And then he breaks the quiet.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Vodka and lemonade, thanks.”

He gestures to the barman and orders for me. “So you're friends with Lianne?” he asks as we wait.

“Yeah.”

“She just got promoted to features editor of Wildfire, right?”

“Yep.”

“Do you work there too, or...”

“No, I'm a waitress,” I say, wincing inwardly. International pop star, features editor, and a waitress. “And you're in One Direction.”

Harry laughs, and if I wasn't a little drunk then I'd bet money that it sounded slightly awkward. “Yeah, I-”

“Shit!” I almost choke on my drink. This can't be happening.

Harry's smile falls. “What's wrong?”

I peer around him, trying to get a better view. I'm not seeing things; Aaron really is here. My ex is here, of all places.

He looks up and catches my eye, and in one frantic movement I duck back behind Harry. But it's too late; he knows I'm here. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Harry looks over his shoulder, but he doesn't know what he's looking for. “Seriously, what's wrong?” He doesn't sound angry, just concerned, and I want to hit him for it. The last thing I want is his concern, his sympathy. I've had enough sympathy to last me a lifetime.

“My ex is here,” I tell him. I at least don't want him to think I'm losing it; I do have a shred of dignity left.

“Oh,” Harry says, drawing out the word. “Did it end bad between you?”

“Really, really bad.”

I peer round him again, but Aaron is gone.

“Is he still there?” Harry asks.

“No,” I say, and even I can hear the despair in my voice. My heart is beating so fast I'm afraid it might not be able to take it any longer. The last thing I wanted was to see Aaron again, not now, not here, not when I'm being forced to hang out with Harry Styles.

“We can leave, if you want,” Harry suggests.

“We?” I blurt out. “You can stay here, it's fine, I'll go.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, and his brow furrows in concern. “You don't look okay.”

“I'm fine,” I hiss, “just leave it.”

And as Harry reaches out a hand towards me I slide into the crowd.