“looking good y/n” Calum whistled, eyeing me up and down as Luke and I entered the crowded house. I smiled shyly and looked down, muttering a thanks just loud enough over the music so that Calum could hear me. “no problem sweetheart, enjoy the party guys” Calum smiled, patting Luke’s shoulder as he disappeared back into the crowd.
I felt Luke’s grip on my hand tighten but I ignored it and focused on the scene in front of me. A house party, one of Calum’s specialities and this one was no different. Loud music was blasting through the whole house and people where scattered everywhere, drinks in their hands.
You take a final look in the vanity mirror, adjusting bits of your done-up hair to reach a balanced mixture of messy yet elegant. There’s a certain strand that’s been having a time taunting you all day, springing from it’s bobbypin every chance it gets, and you decide to just gift it the freedom it’s worked so hard for, removing the clip at the last second and dropping it on the dresser. Black tie events are far from your forté, but you’re trying your best to play the part for Ashton. The last time you wore a dress this long or heels this high had to be your senior prom, and the jitters in your stomach make you feel like you’re getting ready for it all over again: nervous to see your date, paranoid about something going wrong, trying too hard to impress people you don’t know. At least this time you can look forward to alcohol being there.
You grab your phone and a clutch full of necessities before heading out the door, slowly making your way down the steps as you’re reminded how difficult it is to walk in heels. Whose bright idea was it to invent these things? They’ll be kicked off by the end of the night, no doubt. Your feet are already starting to hate you.
At the edge of the sidewalk a tall figure awaits your descent. He’s sporting a classic black and white tuxedo perfectly tailored to accentuate his striking physique, a thin tie hung from the collar rather than a bow. It’s quite a contrast to the athletic shorts and t-shirts you’re used to seeing him in, but you definitely aren’t complaining. The mop of brown curls that usually fall over his eyes have been trimmed and styled for the occasion, and the two week old beard he claimed he was too lazy to shave has disappeared from his chiseled face, cleaning him up significantly. Ashton has always been more of the ruggedly handsome type to you; the kind of person who looks his best straight after rolling out of bed in the morning. However this new side of him, one so sharp and expensive, inflicts serious damage to your will power, and it takes every ounce of your conscious control to not just blow off the event and drag him straight back up to your apartment.