#ayooooooooooooooooooo

“#28 with mikey, please? looove that connor walsh reference haha x” — anonymous

The music in the club was so loud you almost swore you could’ve morphed yourself into the bass beats that were shaking the ground, drunk people with the most extravagant clothes and hair-do’s seemed to appear from everywhere making the place look more and more crowded second by second, and the way you and your friends were dancing turned all the looks to the small group. But, it was not like any of you cared about it, you were having the time of your life and you could almost feel like you were floating between all the people, as if they were swaying you from side to side.

It was not long after you entered the third pub you visited that night that one of your friends asked you to leave the dance floor and go to the bar to get something to drink. Taking each other’s hand, you moved as you could among the sweaty bodies to get to your finish line. While your friend tried to catch the bartender’s attention, your eyes had found someone else’s attention to try to get. Noticing the pair of pretty green eyes were looking back at you, you felt your body being drawn to him. Or maybe it was him that got closer to you. You couldn’t really tell, but, did it really matter?

It was him who talked first, all smooth and enchanting as well as awkard and clumsy at the same time. The music wasn’t so loud in that room and you could actually hear someone if you standed close enough to them and they talked loud enough. “So, what’s such a pretty face doing in a place like this?” you heard him say, and as soon as the oldest “pick-up line” in the history of lame pick-up lines left his lips, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “You just ruined it,” you laughed, but he just shrugged, grinning back at you. “I’m Michael,” he introduced himself. When he saw that you had no intention in doing the same yourself, he asked, first with raised eyebrows and a questioning smile, and then with actual words. “Are you gonna tell me your name, or should I just call you ‘pretty face’ for the rest of the night?”

“Why do you want to know my name? It’s not like you’re gonna remember,” you spoke, shaking your head from side to side. “And, who said you could spend the rest of the night with me?” The tension was palpable between you two, and you could feel your whole anatomy screaming for the green-eyed boy, but your mind was telling you no, you couldn’t, you had come to have a good time with your friends, not to hook-up with some random person.

Before ‘Michael’ could answer, a friend of him, dark-skinned and with really beautiful features, jumped on his back, letting himself hang on Michael’s shoulder. “Mike, come on, we’re doing shots with the boys and whoever drinks three the slowest has to wear the chicken mask for the rest of the night,” he told him, loud enough for you to hear every word. Then the friend seemed to notice you and the fact that you two had been talking, and poorly pointed at you with a finger. “You can bring your girlfriend, too,” he smiled, and then he disappeared, warning Michael to “hurry the fuck up”.

He watched his friend go and then turned back to you, his cheeks kind of lit up, but you weren’t so sure if the blush was because of the situation or the alcohol and the heat of the room. “So, you wanna come, ‘girlfriend’?” he questioned, using the word his mate had used to refer to you, to which you couldn’t respond without letting go off a sarcastic chuckle before. “I’m not your girlfriend,” you protested. “But you could be,” Michael answered, clearly really pleased with his own words. “Actually, no. I don’t do boyfriends, you know,” or at least not then. 

“And how about me?” he asked, with this really smooth smile. Your expression turned to a confused one. Didn’t he just hear what you said? Or did he really think you would make an exception with him, just because?