An Empty Everything

The first time I glanced at Kinsey I knew I might as well have just sold my soul. Love at first sight is a right load of shit, to be honest, but there was something about her, something that had hooked me, and I couldn’t shake it. I just casually glanced at her, not really expecting to see anything while I looked at the crowded room, just looking around to see what was happening. It was a dimly lit, fancy affair: a party thrown for the purpose of the label, lots of artists and managers and celebrities all milling about to put some change in the karma bank for their publicity. And, standing against a wall, chatting carelessly to whatever faceless body stood to her side, holding a small glass in her hand: there she was.

I looked at her, and I knew that was it. Everything around me stopped. The glassy twinkle of ice against glasses and the delicate ‘clink’s of drinks being mixed ceased to exist; the low, constant rumble of relaxed conversation became overwhelmed by the rushing of blood in my ears, my heart slamming in my chest as the entire room became dull. Everything became a smudged blur, the focus point being that girl. It wasn’t just that she was a pretty girl and I liked looking at her. Something in her had gripped me and drawn me to her, somehow wrapping her fingers around my heart from across the room.

I couldn’t deny that she had a sort of magnetism. Even when I wasn’t looking at her, I felt it. I could feel that she was in the room, I could sense that girl’s presence somewhere. I wasn’t used to that with pretty little birds. Her face was constructed so delicately, yet wore a challenge to everyone who looked at her. I knew just by looking at her that she was too much for me. But oh, I just couldn’t stop looking.

It was Liam who caught me staring, and I was thankful for that small grace. Any of the others would’ve teased me. Liam just got this slow smile and looked back over at her and said, “She’s got you, hasn’t she?”

I had been staring at her for hours it seemed, the way her dress clutched her curves driving me about as mad as anything. Her hair was an indistinct mess, a rainbow spectrum of rust-colored reds and browns that twisted like ivy down to her narrow waist. She gestured with her hands when she spoke, fingers weighed down with rings of all shapes and colors, and she moved her blushed lips so deliberately I didn’t know how anyone could hold a normal conversation with her without going mad. Everything about her was so imperfect and strange, and I was drawn to her.

Of course she had me.

Over the course of the evening she had lowered herself to a pretentious and surely overpriced couch that looked almost comical with this pixie-like girl on it. She seemed content to sit and watch everyone around her, but entertained people with conversation when they’d approach her. And when both the glass in her hand and the seat beside her were empty, I gathered my confidence, ordered two drinks, and sat down in the empty space beside that mysterious smirking girl while Harry shook his head and laughed at me from across the room. Her smirk widened into a toothy smile and her eyes lit up when I sat there.

“You’re the little doll who’s been staring me down the whole night.” She stated in the most musical voice, taking the drink from my hand and sipping it. Her eyes flicked up to look at my reaction and she smirked around the little straw she toyed with in her mouth. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d finally come talk to me.”

I couldn’t think fast enough to be clever with her and she spoke again before I could even get my first words out. “Now, how do I know you haven’t slipped me something in this drink?” She was smiling.

“Well we’ve got the same drinks, love, it looks like we’ll both just have to finish them and find out.” I said finally with a teasing smirk of my own. She seemed pleased with my answer and her smile broadened.

Her plush lips paused over the edge of her glass and she took another drink. “You’re Irish.” She said very simply. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can’t put anything over on you, I see. And here I was, thinking I was so mysterious.” Again it seemed like my reply entertained her and she grinned at me, shifting in her seat to face her body towards me. The mischievous smirk I would grow used to appeared on her lips again after she took another swig of the drink. Nothing else in that room mattered to me; I didn’t care that the party was some black-tie type publicity event and that I should be focused on “networking” or keeping up with One Direction’s PR. I didn’t care about how many drinks I’d had—not that I ever really cared about that, actually. It wasn’t even that I made a conscious decision to ignore everything else. I was just entirely caught up with the girl beside me, and I had no problem with that.

Kinsey. When she told me her name I told her it was perfect, which was another statement of mine that seemed to delight her. It was true, though, because the name was lovely but a little bit weird, and it stayed in your head like an indie song you heard and thought was odd, not your taste really at first, but would somehow eventually become your favorite. That was Kinsey. I could tell that even from the few hours I’d known her.

There was something about her that fascinated me and kept me beside her on that leather sofa, our own atmosphere of murmured conversation overwhelmed with her smirk. I couldn’t say what it was that had such an effect on me, but people never really do know with these things, do they? She would lean into me the slightest bit when I would speak and flick her lovely eyes up to mine, her mouth barely twitching upwards when my lips would brush against her ear. Whenever I remembered I had my hand resting lazily on her knee I would stroke her skin with my thumb and she’d flash me a smile, full lips parting over the white sparkle of her teeth. Occasionally she’d twirl one of her rings around her finger thoughtlessly, and she did that now, slowly, looking up and across the room.

“Your friends don’t like me, I can tell,” She was looking at Harry and Louis, who were pouting and gossiping to each other. She turned to look at me. “I can’t say I blame them.” Her smile was slow and crooked.

I looked over at the rest of the lads and then looked back to Kinsey, a little confused. To me, they seemed disinterested more than anything. She shrugged, a ghost of her little smile on her lips, and repeated, “I can tell.” She looked around thoughtfully and then looked back at me. “You’re the nice one, aren’t you?” The way she said it wasn’t a question.

“I…I reckon so,” I mumbled, frowning. I looked up at her. “What does that make you then?”

“To you?” Kinsey beamed at me, like she’d been waiting for that question all night. “Trouble,” was her answer. I blinked, puzzled by the answer and not liking how this felt like the night drawing to a close. She stood up then, and I all but leapt after her. She walked in slow strides, looking down at her bejeweled hands and twirling one of her rings in thought.

“The party’s over, can’t you tell?” She looked at me over her shoulder. I huffed at her and felt myself pout. “Aren’t you starving, love?” Another smirk appeared. My pout turned into a frown, eyebrows knitting together. She was impossible, this girl.

“I—I don’t know,” I said, frustrated. I reached out and put my hand on her waist. “Kinsey, can’t you—”

“Well, I’m hungry,” She lowered her voice and turned around, plucking my hand off of her. “I think you’ll probably get a bit so yourself. And when you do, I’m sure you’ll find me.” She couldn’t help herself sometimes, I could tell, because she liked to smirk at how clever she was. I exhaled loudly so she knew I was annoyed, and she slid one of her giant rings off a finger and held it up. “You’ll find me.” She repeated, dropping the sparkling black stone into the pocket of my pants. And while I was still half annoyed, half confused, and entirely in a daze, she disappeared.

It was sometime later that I was outside, taking a walk for a bit of fresh air after the end of the party, turning her ring over between my fingers. The large stone was rough and sparkling black, the band was narrow and smooth, and a small fraction of me was still the slightest bit annoyed. Of course she couldn’t be a normal girl and give me her phone number—instead she put a ring in my pocket and told me she was hungry. Yet ever since she’d left, I wanted her back. I had known her for hours and that wasn’t enough.

And then, while I was sitting grumpily at a table in an empty little restaurant, the stupid ring in front of me on the table, she showed up. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw her sit down, eyes sparkling like her ring. She looked at the ring on the table and looked up at me. “I found you, it looks like.” I began to reply and she cut me off. “Save the cheeky remark, darling,” Her smile made it impossible for me to stay annoyed. “Think of it this way, love: maybe I wanted to find you more than you wanted to find me.”

I didn’t believe that, because I didn’t think she understood how much I wanted to find her again. I remembered what Liam had said earlier: “She’s got you, hasn’t she?” I was young with the world at my fingertips, making money doing what I loved with the people I loved, an international sensation and in love with my life. Not many people even followed their little fluttering butterflies of dreams, just stored them in jars and put them on a shelf in their mind to look at and sigh about later in life, wondering what could’ve been. I was fortunate enough to have taken that dream and found success with it, and I had never been happier. There was nothing I could’ve possibly wanted.

And then I saw her. And everything changed.