I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor

stop making the eyes at me, i'll stop making my eyes at you. what it is that surprises me is that i don't really want you to.

Fluorescent and multi-coloured lights are flashing around the dar interior of the club. Sweaty bodies are pressed up against each other as their hands are raised in the air, pumping to the beat of the electro-pop songs that the DJ's put on. It's dark, but it's not at the same time. It's hard to see, but once their eyes are fully adjusted to the flashing lights and general darkness of the club that's got music pulsating around the interior walls, they're gaining their sight back.

The teenager with dark hair and equally dark eyes is sat with his back to the bar, elbows propped up on the countertop while his eyes scan his surroundings. Maybe to people there, he looks like a moody boy who really doesn't want to be there and would much rather stay home to do something more productive.

It's partially true. Calum Hood has always likes going to clubs, drinking and partying. But he's just not feeling it as much today, mostly because he's been in the club for over an hour and a half and no girl has caught his eye. There's usually one. Most of the time, he doesn't even have to go looking for a girl to hit on, and then kiss, and then sleep with; because they'd recognise him and they'd approach him and be more than willing to be his flavour of the night.

He's got 5 Seconds Of Summer to thank for that. That being recognisable now. God knew that he's always been shit at hitting on girls. Being in the band that's gotten considerably way more famous than they'd ever expected boosted his confidence, as did it boost his game with the ladies. He doesn't even have to properly flirt with them before they're giggling at everything he's saying and batting their eyelashes in what was presumably a flirtatious manner – but really just makes it seem like they've got something stuck in their eyes.

Calum never says anything about it, though, because he's a horny teenage boy and he wants to get laid.

Tonight's different. It's different because no girl has come up to him. Probably because he's not out on dance floor, as he usually is, but still. He's just at the bar, chilling, and the only people he's spoken to since he's set foot into the club is the friends he'd come with and the bartender, from when he'd asked for a beer.

His eyes are scanning the occupants of the club once more. Then his eyes land on this one girl – leaning against a table, a bottle of beer in hand, eyes doing the exact same thing that he's doing. She's not dancing, she's not looking for anything – she's just people-watching, just like he is; though his people-watching has an underlying intention of wanting someone to sleep with.

Her eyes connect to his then and even from across the room, he knows that she's looking straight at him; only because he's looking straight at her.

Calum's got his thick lips wrapped around the mouth of the beer bottle he's drinking out of, so he doesn't smile at her. She doesn't smile back. Doesn't even smirk, to show that she'd caught him whilst he was basically staring at her.

Calum lets his eyes travel over her face, taking in every curve and dent, every distinctive feature. She's pretty. That much he can tell, from where he's sat. He can't see the colour of her eyes or any other minuscule detail about her physical appearance, but he knows that she's pretty. It's hard to not acknowledge that, because she really is a beauty.

His brown eyes are travelling down her body then, hungrily taking in her figure clad in a little black dress; the end of which reaches her mid-thigh, putting her legs on full display for him to freely ogle at – though he does so as discreetly and coolly as possible. It's hard, though. Then his eyes are going back up to her face, once more establishing a connection between their eyes – only for him to see her eyes dart all over his face; taking in his appearance just as he was taking hers in.

She still doesn't smile or anything, but she turns away because another girl's started to talk to her. Calum doesn't even bother looking away. Just keeps his eyes locked onto her. Her side-profile this time. She's got a Class A jawline. It's pretty fucking hot.

The girl glances at him once more and now, Calum smirks over at her in acknowledgement, tilting the beer bottle over in her direction. She doesn't even respond to it; merely turning back to her mate.

i wish you'd stop ignoring me because it's sending me to despair.

It's a bit frustrating that she's not paying him any mind. He's so used to girls wanting him so badly that when faced with a situation like so, he's forgotten that this was what most of his life before 5SOS got big was like.

Calum waves the bartender over, asking for another beer. Once he gets it, he's chugging down the liquid whilst still watching her. He's probably bordering on creepy now but he really doesn't give a shit. There's something about her that's got him attracted to her. Doesn't matter if any other girl approaches him now.

He wants her.

It's like they've got this internal pull that's trying to bring them to each other. Or, rather, it's a one-sided thing, since she seems to be completely fine with ignoring the supposed attraction that he was hoping was mutual. Calum can't keep his eyes off of her, and he doesn't really know why. She's pretty, yes, and she's got a fit body, yeah. But that's really nothing that outstanding about her. She's like any other girl he'd see around, or at the shows, or wherever.

The physical attraction he's got towards her is too strong for him to ignore, even if it is just a physical attraction.

She turns again, but this time, instead of just a glance to see if he's still looking at her, she's staring right back at him again. Just like before. Then she's taking a swig from her own beer bottle before she's slowly making her way towards him, eyes still locked onto his as she slides past sweaty, dancing and intoxicated bodies.

"What's your name?" She asks once she's standing barely a foot away from him.

Calum grins up at her charmingly, "Calum. What's yours?"

"Doesn't matter," she says simply.

"Why not?"

"You've come alone?" She asks instead, completely ignoring the question he's asked.

"Yeah."

"Any reason why you're staring at me?"

Calum's grin only widens, "I bet that you look good on the dance floor."

Her lips curl up into a smirk then. She offers him a hand, "Dance with me."

With another swig from his beer, he takes her smaller hand in his and letting her lead him out onto the dance floor. She turns so that her back's pressed to his toned chest and his arms are quick to wind around her waist. She's pressing herself further into him and he almost groans at the contact, the perfect amount of pressure. Calum leans down to kiss her neck, lips trailing across her slightly sweaty skin. It's salty and he would normally peg it as gross, because she's not perspiring from their sexual escapades, but he really doesn't mind it as much as he should.

She spins around in his arms then and he's startled from the sudden movement but he recovers by painting a smirk on his lips. She only smirks right back at him before she's tilting her head up and then bringing his upper lip in between both of hers. His eyes instantly fall shut at the contact and when she's biting down on his bottom lip and pulling away, he's groaning and following her lips to kiss her again.

The next thing either of them are aware of, they're stumbling out of the club, clinging onto each other by the arm and sliding into a taxi. He's bringing her to the nearest hotel he's aware of and she's completely fine with that, seeing as how her hand's wandering up his thigh, drifting into dangerous territory – especially since they're in the back of a taxi.

They don't even make it to the room before he's pinning her to the wall beside the hotel room's door and kissing her hungrily, his lips enveloping hers while his hands selfishly salivated every inch of her skin that's slowly being revealed as he tries to rid her of the dress she's got on. She pushes him away, chest heaving up and down quickly as she tries to catch her breath.

"Door," she mumbles simply and he's nodding, pushing in the key card and then tugging her in by the wrist before he's shutting it behind them.

He doesn't know if she knows his intentions – just to sleep with her and then leave – he doesn't know what she's looking for. Calum feels like he needs to tell her before she gets the wrong idea but then her lips are on his again and he's lost every train of thought.

Tonight, she can pretend that he's hers.

Tonight, he can pretend that she's his.

i don't know if you're looking for romance or...

The next time he sees her is two weeks later. He hadn't even gotten to see her the morning after because she was the one to sneak out whilst he was still asleep. That was usually his job. It was a strange feeling, being the one that's left behind in the morning, instead of being that one leaving.

Calum's in the same club he was that he'd met her at in the first place. His bandmates brought him out this time. They're determined to get him out of the weird funk he'd been in. He doesn't even know why he's feeling like that. One-night-stands are all that he'd prefer. He doesn't have time for relationships. Emotional investment in another person. But there was something about that night that made him feel different. Like it wasn't just sex – when it literally was just that, and nothing else.

Ashton is sat next to him at the bar, bottle of beer also in hand as he people-watches. Luke and Michael are out on the dance floor – the bloody lightweights already almost drunk from two shots of Jack – and they're dancing with each other while not-so-subtly checking out the girls who are watching them, too nervous or probably weirded out (because they're bringing Muke to a whole new level) to approach the duo.

"Mate," Ashton says, nudging him lightly in the elbow.

Calum looks up, eyebrows raising on his forehead in a silent question. "Hmm?"

"Wanna dance?" The older wiggles his eyebrows over at him, earning chuckles from the younger. "C'mon, let's put Muke to shame. Team Cashton, baby!"

Ashton's tipsy. He can hold his alcohol quite well ("it's because I'm half-Irish" which is a total lie because he's probably one-sixteenth Irish) and if he's already giggling more than normal with his cheeks flushed, it means that he's tipsy. He probably had more shots when Calum was too busy watching Luke and Michael dance, because it's a fucking weird scene to watch.

"Nah, I'm good, mate. Go on ahead," Calum laughs lightly, nodding over to the dance floor.

The elder shrugs a shoulder, taking the couple of final gulps from his beer bottle. "Suit yourself," then he's going out onto the dance floor and dancing with his two mates. It's a really weird sight to see because they're all perfectly heterosexual but in the current moment, even Calum's questioning their sexuality.

Calum breathes a laugh to himself, shaking his head in amusement as his three best mates start doing some ridiculous dance moves; earning stares from a couple semi-sober people, while the others are completely ignoring them because they're as drunk as they are.

Calum lets his eyes wander across the dance floor then. He's not even consciously looking for her, but he sees her. She's across the club again, laughing with her mates, beer bottle in hand; just like before. He still doesn't know her name, but he knows that she's still looking as gorgeous as she did before.

Calum reckons she feels his gaze on him because she's turning in his direction – eyes immediately landing on him without even having to properly look around. He flashes her a charming grin and all she does is smirk, raising an eyebrow slightly, tilting her beer bottle over in his direction in acknowledgement.

without a sound, yeah, you're calling me and i don't think it's very fair.