Wow, it's been so long since I've updated this! I don't even know if people are reading this, but if you are, I'm so sorry!

Anyway, this is using the chat up lines from the sugarscape interview, just so you know.

copyright

Ashton

I was sitting on a barstool, ordering myself something to drink. I was at a club somewhere, I'm not sure where. My friends had ordered me to dress up and took me to a nightclub, as they said I was too anti-social. It's not exactly my fault that there is a lot to do for the courses I'm taking at university. Anyway, they had, had me up dancing since we got into the club and I was only now escaping their clutches, absolutely ready to get a drink. I was also biding my time to see when I could get out of here. I was thinking between five and ten minutes. If they saw me getting what looked like alcohol, they would definitely let me go home. So, I ordered a coke, but told the bartender to make it look like alcohol, but specifically no alcohol actually in it. So, he gave me a coke, but frizzed up the top, so it looked like a beer. So, now, I was a single lady in a bar stool, wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt because I thought we were just going out to dinner, with a beer on the glass mat in front of me.

I don't think I'm getting someone tonight.

After a wee while, a group of four boys sat down beside me. We ignored each other. They ordered their drinks, which was actually alcohol, and just sat on the barstools, laughing amongst themselves. Then, my group of three friends came over and asked me to join them on the dance floor again. However, I didn't really want to get up there again, stuck between sweaty bodies, not able to breathe. I was only 5'4", so it seemed like everyone was pressing in on me. So, I politely declined by saying I just wanted to finish my drink, then I might be back up again. They sighed, but went back on the dance floor.

I sat on my lonesome for a few more minutes, eavesdropping into the lad's conversation. They didn't sound from here, but I was always really bad with accents, so I guessed they were either from New Zealand or Australia. Eventually, a group of three girls came up to them. I listened as they invited the boys up onto the dance floor. Out of my peripheral view, three of the boys got up to accompany the girls. I felt sorry for the one who was left behind, who softly declined. When his friends had left, he twisted his barstool around, so it was facing the bar, just like mine. We were both sitting in silence for a few seconds, both looking straight ahead. This was getting uncomfortable now, so I turned to him, intending to make a conversation, because it felt like we should.

"Where you from?" I asked because the accent thing was getting a bit on my nerves. Then, I mentally face-palmed. Smooth, Y/N, smooth.

He swivelled his chair slightly towards me and gave me this slightly confused look. I was sort of surprised by how good looking he was. He was absolutely adorable and I couldn't believe he was just sitting here, instead of up there dancing, because believe me he could have any girl he wanted. His hair was wavy brown and sort of tied back with a bandanna. His eyes were hazely browny greeny, and I could look into them forever and ever.

"Um, Australia. Where are you from?" he answered, now looking at me like I was some physco.

"Here," I replied. I was wracking my brains for something else to say, which hopefully wouldn't embarrass me again.

When, out of no where, this dude came up and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Come on, it's time to go home, sweetheart," he said to me. His breath stank of beer and I almost heaved.

"Excuse me, I don't know who you are," I replied, looking up at him, trying to be as polite as possible: maybe I looked like someone from behind? "Now, please remove your hand."

"Sweetheart, it's time to go home. You've gotten a little bit drunk," he persisted.

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. "No, you've got a little bit drunk. Now, get the fuck away from me, weirdo."

His hand once again came up, but this time clasped around my bicep and he started trying to pull me up.

But then, Mr. Australia stood up and pushed Mr. Drunk away from me, telling him that I was his girlfriend and that he should get his drunk ass away from me before Mr. Hazel Eyes made him regret even coming here tonight. Thankfully, the drunk man quickly turned and walked briskly away, well, as briskly as you can when you're drunk. I would have ran if I was him as well, because when Mr. Australia stood up and was threatening you, he wasn't adorable any more. He was at least six feet tall and had bulging muscles, which could easily strangle someone.

He calmly sat down again and called over to the bartender. "Get the lady a refill," he requested, placing a five pound note on the counter and sliding it towards the bartender. "Keep the change."

I began to pull out my own purse, but he shoved my bag onto the ground again and swivelled towards me. "You shouldn't fucking swear," he scolded.

And I couldn't help but laugh then, because he was looking like a pissed off puppy and had swore himself when he was telling me off. "Why did you do that?" I asked him, thanking the bartender when another coke was placed in front of me.

"Because I lava you," he giggled.

I laughed even harder. "Are you a volcano, because I lava you?"

"Yay, you know it." He threw his hands up in the air.

"I am highly educated in cheesy chat up lines." I couldn't stop laughing and tried weakly to bring his arms back down, but they were not going to budge. "How do you have arms like this?"

"I drum."

I nodded appreciatively and poked his bicep. He brought his hands back down to his lap and gave me a cheeky smile. "You want to learn?"

"I wouldn't mind, Drummer Boy."

"It's Ashton, Princess."

"It's Y/N, Doll Face."

"Touché."

"So, Ashie, when am I going to get these drumming lessons?"

"As soon as possible."

I didn't want to escape the club that night, like I had previously thought. Me and Ashton sat on the barstools till it was closing time, talking about ourselves and getting to know each other. By the end of the night, we had exchanged mobile and house numbers, and had scheduled a date which would fit in with his band practice and my studies for the following week.

Calum

"Hi, how art thou?"

I turned around in the music shop to the boy standing beside me, flipping through CDs. He had his hood up and was wearing sunglasses, which I found pretty funny since it was the UK and it was, unsurprisingly, raining outside.

"Shakespeare, really?"

He looked down at me, a cheeky grin on his face. "It's a classic."

"Not too bad," I nodded, smiling as well. It was hard not to be pulled in. "Any more up your sleeve?" I asked, flipping through CDs again.

"It takes me a while to think of them. But, I do have something for you."

"I really hope that isn't an innuendo."

"Nope." He shoved a CD under my nose. It was the 5 Seconds of Summer CD.

I snorted, then immediately raised my hand to cover my mouth, embarrassed by the noise.

"What? You don't like them?" he asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"No, I do like them. I just already have the CD."

"What do you think of them?" he asked.

I looked up at him, but he already had his head down and was flicking through CDs again. "Um, I find them talented, original, funny and inappropriate. Everything I want in a band."

"Who's your favourite?"

"Well, I don't think you can pick a favourite in a band. Everyone in the band contributes to the finished product. If someone wasn't there, the music wouldn't be as good."

"What do you think of the bassist?"

I put the CD I was looking at back on the shelf, turned to him and cocked out a hip. "Why you asking so many questions, when I don't even know you?"

He looked up at me, then quickly looked down when he realised that I was looking at him. "Think of it like a survey."

I paused, then said, "Take off the sunglasses."

His hands stopped flicking and he froze, then went back to what he was doing. "No can do."

"What's your name?"

"Katy Perry."

"You realise you're a guy, right?"

"That's name-ist! Some names can be for girls and boys."

"Okay," I said, my hands in the air in surrender. "Don't get your panties in a twist, mate."

"What's your name?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

"Pretty name."

I think I figured out who he was. I turned back to the CDs. "So, the bassist, right?"

"Yeah, what do you think about him?"

"Well, for one, he's hot. And funny."

"Really? Is he your favourite?" He asked this kind of breathy, with hope in his voice.

"Well, as I said, I don't have any favourites."

His hand tightened on the CD he was holding and he huffed.

"You know, what," I took a tissue and a tube of lipstick out of my bag, writing out my number clearly, "here you go."

I handed him my number. He took it and held it weakly in his hand, shocked.

I moved to walk out of the shop, but stopped for a moment behind him. I patted his backside and stood up on my tip-toes, whispering, "See you later, Calum." 

With that, I strutted out.

When I was halfway down the street, my phone pinged with a new message. I looked at my phone. It was an unknown number. I moved to the side of the pavement to read it.

How'd you know? - C

Not many British people have Australian accents - Y/N

Luke

Okay, so I think it's safe to say I have no rhythm. I was in a club, trying to dance along to a really catchy tune the DJ was playing. My hands were in the air and my hips were trying to move with the rhythm, but it wasn't exactly going to plan.

My friends, as soon as I had started dancing, had moved away from me slightly, not really wanting to be identified with me. But, I didn't really care: I was having fun and that's all that mattered.

By the time I figured I had been on the dance floor for fifteen minutes, I was really thirsty. I told my friends I had to stop for a while and needed a drink, and I think I heard them emitting a sigh of relief. I chose to ignore them and continued on my way to the bar.

When I got there, there was a massive group of squirming girls, all trying to push to the front of the bar. I waited for a few seconds to see if they were going to disperse, but when no one moved, I decided that if I was going to get a drink, I would have to push through them. As I got to the bar, panting and hair sticking to my neck and forehead, I realised what the problem was.

5 Seconds of Summer were here.

Of course, I was a big fan, but I wasn't going to go ga-ga over them like these girls. They probably were only here to relax and have a good time, and these girls were stopping them from doing that. But, what could I do about that?

When I finally got close to the bar, I actually had to push through the boys themselves to get to the counter. I ordered a water, as I knew anything else would make me more thirsty than I already was, which would make me buy more drinks and pay more money. I chugged it down quickly and slammed the glass back onto the counter. I was about to turn around and move back to the dance floor, when a pair of hands clamped down on my hips.

"You dance hot," he whispered into my ear.

"Thanks," I whispered back. I turned my head to see who it was, keeping my body still. I was surprised to find that it was Luke Hemmings. "You sing hot." As soon as it was out of my mouth, I scrunched my eyes shut and groaned: I can't believe I actually said that. I was so stupid sometimes.

"Thanks," he chuckled into my ear. "So, what's your name?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

"Nice."

"Now, you introduce yourself as well," I said, turning in his arms to face him, smiling up at him.

"You don't know who I am?" Then he seemed to catch himself on. "Not that I'm egotistical or anything, it's just - "

"Of course I know who you are. But, I'm not going to treat you like a celebrity. To me, you are a normal person." I finished my statement with a smile and an assertive nod.

"Hi, my name's Luke. Luke Hemmings."

"Nice to meet you, Luke."

With that he took my hand and led me onto the dance floor again, dancing with me for the rest of the night.

From that day on, he always made sure to tell me that I danced hot, no matter how many stares I received.

Michael

"You're pretty," the boy beside me said to the girls he was trying to chat up. Keyword: trying. I sort of felt sorry for him. Theses girls weren't even being subtle that they didn't like him.

So, again, another girl laughed in his face, rudely declined and moved away.

The poor boy sighed and turned around to the bar on his barstool.

"You got any other chat up lines?" I asked, turning to face him.

He startled at this. Although he didn't turn completely to look at me, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You talking to me?"

I scoffed. "Well, the bartender isn't giving much conversation at the moment." I pointed to the bartender, who was staying on the other side of the bar, as there was a whole bunch of young, pretty girls keeping him occupied. He probably didn't even know us two were sitting at the other corner of the counter and would actually buy something.

"Um, they're all kind of dirty."

"That doesn't matter to me, mate."

"Well, okay." He turned completely to me and caught my eyes.

Flip, his green eyes were deep.

"Do you want to play Titanic? You be Ice Berg and I'll go down."

I immediately burst out laughing, which made him quirk a little smile. He had a really beautiful smile. And his eyes just grabbed me, pulling me in deep. "Colours, you aren't getting in my knickers with that, but it made me laugh. Which would get you a date."

"A date?"

"Um, hypothetically of course." I blushed. Of course I might be fancying him a bit - look at him for goodness sakes, those other girls had no sense - but he obviously wasn't crushing on me.

"Yeah, hypothetically. Now, what's this about 'Colours'?"

"Well, you obviously dye your hair, as right now it is red and I'm pretty sure that's not natural. So, yeah, your nickname is Colours." I smiled at the end, pretty pleased with myself and the smart nickname.

"Okay, Baby Doll," he sniggered.

"Nice, I like it," I teased, blushing even redder. "So, what's your real name?"

"Michael Clifford. And yours is?"

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N." I stuck out my hand for a shake and he gladly took it.

"Now, Y/N, I think you mentioned something about a date? What about in the non-hypothetical way?"

"Well, Clifford, I'd like that. Maybe you can even tell more of those dirty chat up lines of yours?"

"I think a few more will spring to mind," he promised. 

He held my hand as he led me out of the club, taking me to a restaurant down the road.