Just Another High Five

Kat Dean Watson. The girl with a hidden life that arrived at her doorstep the day he came. He was sopping wet, soaked from head to toe. He had the most soft, blonde hair she had ever seen. There were many urges for her to rake her hands through it, to feel each and every strand between her fingers. Kat and Niall. Niall and Kat.

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1. Complicated Overcast

 

1 - COMPLICATED OVERCAST

"Kat!" My mind begins spinning, twirling, dancing, and then crashes to the floor. My chest is pulsing, my heartbeat taking over my whole body. I keep my eyes to the ground, holding both of my temples with the palms of my hands. I stumble, my head catching one of the many cracks in the black and white tile. Laughing and snickering surrounds me, and I can hear some people struggling to catch their breath, others struggling to hold their laughter in. I wouldn't dare to look up and won't ever do so until I get out of this torture chamber, this mad house - this club.

"Kat!" Emma yells after me, and I got a glimpse of her black hair before rushing through the crowds of people. I can hear her voice calling my name, the sound growing further and further away. But, I don't care. I just have to get out of here. You see, large, cramped, and loud places aren't really my thing. I am a claustrophobic, if you haven't noticed already, and my dear friend Emma decided that I should go boy-hunting with her in - guess - the busiest club in town, Cattails. Gosh, sometimes she can be damn stupid.

Once out of the club, I sprint to my full speed, slipping my heels off of my bruised feet and carrying them by the soles. My breathing becomes faster as my legs begin to give in, my steps becoming wobbly and nearly drunk-like. I most likely look as if I had a million beers. One step after another, I stumble towards a nearby bench, panting and coughing.

I hug myself, my arms wrapped around each other and spread across my chest. A chill, freezing and skin crawling, made it way around me and my strapless knee-high dress. Suddenly, my feet became very interesting. They look as if I had been chased by a bear my whole life, running until now. Blisters cover my heels and blood had been smeared across the tops of my feet. I wince as I flex my feet and pull one up to rest on my right knee, discovering that bruises had formed on the arch.

Bloody great.

My vision blurs and I fight the tears that are pleading to roll down my cheeks, to be free of my eyes lids and to land upon my lap. Why am I crying... Pulling my hand my face, I rub my eyes with the back of my palm, ignoring the fact that my mascara, along with eyeliner, is most likely on both my hand and my cheeks. I watch as my contact rolls around in my eye, an uncomfortable feeling coming from the folded up lenses. Blinking once or twice, the contact is back into its place but it annoying the hell out of me.

Vision now cleared, my make-up smeared mouth drops to my mouth as I try not to scream. A tall, dark figure is currently approaching me and all I can make out is the grin plastered on his face and the light reflecting off of his hood. As the man, or boy, nears me, I grip onto the side of the bench, grabbing my heels and ready for another run.

He becomes closer and closer, and I can see the steam coming off of his breath. He stares at me, not yet fully under the light. I bet I have a hopelessly frightened look on my face, and he assumes that I am his prey. He thinks that he is the lion - the dominant, the one in control - and I am the lamb - the helpless, the one who's afraid to through and punch, the one whose screams won't be heard. But, that's not right mister. One small move and this lamb will turn into a ram within seconds, head-butting you in the gut and running away. ...Okay, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say/think.

"Hi there." He speaks, stepping out of the shadows and into the light, his large hands pulling the grey hood from his head to reveal soft blonde hair. It's like an angel is being born in front of my eyes. I know it sounds cliché but it's true! His blue eyes gaze at me, awaiting my response.

"H-Hi?" I speak with the quietest and squeakiest voice, surprising myself at the sudden mouse-like tone.

The blonde chuckled, not averting his eyes from me. His boyish smile immediately shrunk into a seductive grin, and I can feel his eyes looking me up and down, which I'd rather he not do.

"Well, a little shy aren't we?" That's when I just realized his thick Irish accent, and the dryness of his laugh. "May I catch your name?"

"K-kat..."

"Hello Kat, I'm Niall."

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