Shot At The Night - The Killers

ISABELLA 

Every item of clothing that I owned either made me feel fat or look like a middle aged dad at a family barbecue (who is clearly suffering with a mid-life crisis). Nothing was cute, nothing fit. The date hadn't even started yet and I was already feeling woozy. This was a terrible idea. It had to be. Everything seemed to not be working for me, all signs pointing at me staying home, calling Harry claiming to have fallen helplessly with the bird flu, and am unable to make our date. That was clearly the only and most obvious option that I had left. 

"I have no clothes!" My body fell down into the jumbled pile of mix matched dresses and skirts. "Nothing wants to fit." 

"Breathe," Nat's soft voice soothes from the my small computer screen. I glance up from my spot on the floor. I strain my eyes up and over my rumpled covers. I catch a glimpse of Nat's amused smirk. "You are acting as if this is the first date you've ever been on." 

On my hands and knees, I crawl over to the bed. With every ounce of strength that I seemingly have left, I push my body up on top of my covers. A loud and long-winded groan escapes my mouth. "I am so nervous," I admit to Nat. 

"I couldn't tell," she giggles. I subtly raise my hand, showcasing my freshly painted middle finger. "Right back at you, bitch." She is now laughing. 

"God," I groan out. I bring a pillow to my face, smothering myself with it as I yell, frustrated. "Why am I a mess?" 

"Because you like him," she states as if it's completely obvious. "And from the pictures I creeped on his Facebook, which is only three by the way, he is sexy. Really sexy. Good job, sis." 

"You're not helping," I groan once again. 

Nat continues to chuckle. I slump overtop of my pillows. My hands resting underneath my face as I rest my chin. "Show me that red dress, yellow skirt with that lace top, and that black and white dress again." 

With every bit of energy that I have left, I manage to push my body up and off my bed. I walk over to the mess of clothes that lay on my floor. Picking up the three outfits that Nat suggested, I walk back over to where my laptop sits. 

I hold up a deep v-necked dress with scallop detailing. It is a curve hugging dress that hits just below the knee. It was sexy - perhaps too sexy, for a first date. "I don't know, Nat. I think this might be a bit over the top for a first real date." 

"Yeah," she agrees. "Maybe save that for the third date," she chuckles. I hang the dress back up in my closet and pick up the next outfit. 

In one hand I hold up a mustard yellow skater skirt with soft pleats. In the other Is a thin, spaghetti strapped white top with lace detailing. The bottom is cut into a triangle shape causing the lace detailing to cover my navel. 

"Cute, but maybe for a lunch date. This is a dinner date to where again?" 

"I can't remember the name but it's a small bistro on Oxford street, I think. God, I can't remember. He just said it's nice so wear something nice. Fuck men and their inability to give a woman proper details for a date!" I grumble a bit too loud. I was getting flustered and quite frankly, rather frustrated. The nerves inside of me where becoming rather overbearing. All I wanted to do was grab a pizza and hang out with Harry. 

"Show me that black dress." 

I lift up the dress. It's a strapless black and white dress that hits just above my knee. It has small white flowers that sit above the breast and thin, white lines that were drawn around them. It was a pretty dress but I felt like it was a bit too dressed up. 

Nat let out a high pitched squeal. She began to clap her hands enthusiastically. "That one's cute. Wear that one!" 

I held the dress in front of me, my eyes studying it up and down. "Are you sure it's not too fancy?"

"Not at all!" Nat shakes her head. "Pair it with those black wedges that you stole from me."

I shoot her a mischievous smirk. "Which ones?" 

Natalia rolls her eyes but chuckles. "The ones with the thin mary jane strap. Those would look adorable with it. Then keep your hair up. Maybe a low bun to the side. Oh! Leave your makeup natural. Like you usually do. A neutral smokey eye and a nude lip. Harry won't be able to handle himself once he sees you." 

I pull my hair up and out of my face. My dark black locks pulled back into a low and messy bun. "Like this?" 

"Yeah but neater. Come on, Izzy. This is a date! You gotta look hot." 

I give her an eye roll before I release my grip on my hair. "What time is it," I ask myself quietly before pulling my phone out from under a pile of dirty t-shirts. Six o'clock. "Shit! I have an hour before Harry gets here. I have to go and finish getting ready." 

"Alright." Nat's lips spread out into a wide grin. "Have fun, okay? Enjoy yourself and don't stress out too much." 

The words seemed easier said than done. These damn butterflies that would erupt inside of me were not settling down. All day I felt like I was going to either throw up or faint. Or do both. I was unable to focus at work today either, which did not help matters at all. If anything, being in that bookstore alone made matters so much worse. 

Harry hadn't shown up today. He sent me a text earlier in the morning saying that he had to work the morning shift at the diner so that he could take me out tonight. As disappointed as I had initially been when he told me, I reminded myself that I was going to be seeing him that night. On a date. Holy crap, a date. 

I was going on a date with Harry. 

- 

The next hour is a blur of hairspray, bobby pin stabbings, and thong-induced wedgies. Jaz had found my stress amusing, taking every chance that she could to make subtle jokes and teasing jabs. 

"God, I have never seen you like this before. It's rather hilarious." 

I send her a death glare, my hands shaking as I reapply my nude lip gloss for the third time in ten minutes. By now, they would blind someone if the light caught a glimpse at the glistening madness that donned my lips. "Deep breathes." 

Reluctantly, I oblige with Jaz's playful advice and take in a few deep breaths. In, out, in out- my heart began to increase it's rapid beating. 

Three swift knocks come from the front door. With the sudden noise, my heartbeat begins to rapidly pick up once more. "Shit," I bite the inside of my lip. My hands begin to sweat, my nerves reappearing. 

"I'll get it." Jaz gives me a knowing smile. She walks over to the door and opens it slowly. "Hello Harry." She greets him. Her voice is friendly. She looks over her shoulder and shoots me a cheesy wink. 

"Hey, is Isabella ready?" 

"Yep!" I walk over to the door. Jaz opens it up and standing in front of her is Adonis in human form. 

Harry stood in his usual skin-tight black jeans and black boots. He wears a white t-shirt and has his leather jacket slung over his arm. His hair is pushed back. He looked gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. I wasn't aware that a man was capable to look beautiful. Harry once again proved me wrong. 

"Isabella," His eyes widen as they drink me in. His jaw slacks open. He runs his hand through his hair roughly. "Um," he coughs. "You look, um. Beautiful. You look beautiful." 

Instantaneously, I feel my cheeks burn. "Thank you. You too." I mentally slap myself. Smooth, Izzy. Really, so smooth. 

Jaz giggles from the side of the room. I had almost forgot that she was still here. I glance over at her. She is smiling ferociously. "Have fun you two," she sings. 

"Yeah, bye." I push Harry lightly out the door, quickly shutting it behind me. We begin to walk towards the elevator. 

We walk inside the open door. He looks over at me, a ghost of a smirk painted on his lips. "You really do look beautiful, Iz." 

Iz. This was the first time that I had ever heard him call me Iz. "Thank you." He smiles over at me, a genuine smile. I return the smile and wait for the elevator doors to open. 

- 

The bistro is quaint. Not at all as fancy as Harry had made it sound. The walls inside where a mixture of red brick and plain white walls. The lights were dimly lit, with candles on each table creating a lovely glow throughout the small restaurant. 

I look over at Harry. He is studying me. His eyes watching me as I take another bite from my risotto. He takes another sip from his glass. Bourbon. "What?" I ask him rather self-consciously. The way that Harry looked at me stirred up so many different feelings. He made me feel awkward, but in the best way possible. If that was even possible. He looked at me as if I was the only woman in the room. Hell, as if I was the only person left in this city. 

"Nothing. Just taking in your beauty, s'all." 

"You're such a charmer." I begin to blush furiously. This earns another chuckle form Harry. I grab my wine glass and take a sip of it's red liquid. 

"So, Isabella-"

"Ah, we're back to my full name once again?" I interrupt. 

Harry chuckles under his breath. He smirks up at me, his vibrant green eyes dancing under the dim light of the candle. "Of course." 

"I was beginning to think you were warming up to nicknames." 

"I guess for you, I could make an exception." 

"Ha," I scoff playfully. "I have heard that before." 

This earns a low rumble of chuckles from him. He takes another long sip from his drink. His eyes not once leaving me. "Tell me about you. I realized I don't know much about you." 

"I didn't think you'd want to know." I admit. 

"You intrigue me, Iz. Of course I want to know about you." My heart flutters once again at the way his voice annunciates the one syllable name. 

"What do you want to know about me?"

"Everything."

I laugh lightly. The wine tasting refreshing against my drying throat. The nerves began to grow inside of me once again. His persistent stare and charming voice doing something inside of me. We were friends, for gods sake. Why was I acting this way? How was it that Harry had this effect on me. He had the insane capability of making me feel like a little school aged girl with his charming remarks and cheeky smirks. 

He runs his hand through his hair. My fingers twitch. Memories of our heated kisses from before begin to replay inside my mind. The way his hair felt in between my fingers. How he'd moan my name whenever I'd tug at the ends. I feel my insides clench at the rather raunchy memory. "Uh," I cough unexpectedly.  "I grew up in New York. The Upper East side. To a business man and his stay at home housewife. My parents were - are - ridiculously wealthy. Almost too wealthy."

Harry scoffs. I look up at him, his eyes watching me intently. "I get that." 

I nod in response. I figured he'd tell me about it after. He wanted to hear about my life and my family. I collect memories and my thoughts from my childhood and family. "My parents are heavily involved with the country clubs. They even forced me into doing a debutant ball. A coming out party, if you will. Frilly white dresses and stuck up parents who find some unsettling obsession with forcing their children with their views and standards." 

"Did you come out?" 

"Huh?" I look up at him, my eyes tearing itself away from my fiddling fingers that sat on my lap.

"Debutant ball. Did you have one?" He clarifies. 

"Oh. Right. Yeah, I had one. It was awful." I laugh lightly at the memory. "My mom set me up with the nerdiest kid on the block. She still thinks I'm going to marry him." I roll my eyes at my mother and her unrealistic expectations for me and my life. 

"I sure hope not," Harry jokes. "Or I might need to beat some polo wearing rich kid asshole." 

A loud laugh escapes me. I cover my mouth with my hand. I look around quickly to see if anyone heard my loud outburst. Nobody seems to be looking at us. I shake my head, giggling quietly. "No, no need for that." 

"Good. I don't like the idea of some rich prick stealing my girl." 

"No need to worry," I smile up at him. His words screaming loud and clear inside my mind. His girl. He called me his girl. 

"Anyways. I got tired of all of that, so once I graduated high school I went to university straight away. That's where I met Ty  and-" 

"Who's Ty?" Harry asks. His eyes watching me with mere curiosity. 

"Have I not told you about Ty?" 

"Nope." 

"Right. He's my best friend at home." And previous fuck buddy, my subconscious adds. I was beginning to hope that she had died. 

Harry gives me an understanding nod. He takes another sip of his drink in which I copy and take another sip of mine. "Carry on," Harry motions with his hand earning a small giggle from me. 

"During university, I moved down to Brooklyn. I basically began to build my own life there while in school. Ty was just like me. Is just like me, I should say. He comes from a similar family background so we were able to relate on that front. I changed my style, bought vintage blouses from the local thrift store and wore high heels with studs instead of ballerina flats. I felt like by changing my style, it was a subtle Fuck you to my parents and their standards for me and their way of life. But once school was over I moved back home. Being at home wasn't the same. They'd try to subtly dictate my life. They'd drag me to the club and partake in their stupid cricket games. I had enough so I decided to move here. The rest is history, I guess." 

Harry looks at me. I take a long sip from my wine. Welcoming the subtle burn as it slips down my throat. "Fuck," Harry whispers. 

"What?" 

"Nothing." He quickly recovers. His body language straightening as he sits up. His features soften while he continues to watch me.  

"What about you?" I ask him, wanting to take the attention of of me. 

"What about me?" 

"What's the story of your life, Styles?" 

He smirks over at me, his teeth biting his lip as he brings his glass to his mouth. "Not much to tell." 

"No! Don't do that." I laugh playfully. "I just told you a basic summary of my family life. Now it's your turn to tell me yours."

Harry straightens up in his seat. "What about over dessert?" He asks me. He raises his hand to summon the waitress to walk over to where we sit. She brings over our check. Harry pulls out two twenties and sits it on top of our table. He holds his hand out for me to take. 

 He interlocks our fingers, guiding us outside the restaurant and into the late February night.