My insides cartwheeled at his words, but I kept my face impassive as I let him pull my body against his. He moved to the beat of the music, one leg slipped between mine, his arm firmly around my waist holding me against him. I was drunk enough to have the confidence to let myself go a little, but not so drunk that I was unable to move fluidly. He was right: he wasn't a very good dancer, but in this environment where everyone was mashed up against one another, it didn't really matter. All I was interested in anyway was the heat from his body where it was pressed to mine, and the feel of his hand on my waist.

"You know how to move," he shouted over the music, and I smiled at him as his motion became more intense as he relaxed into it. There wasn't much opportunity to talk, but I was happy to savour this incredible moment of being this close to Louis Tomlinson from One Direction, and having his undivided attention for the evening. 

He grabbed my hand as we danced and put it around his own waist, turning to face me fully and wrapping his other arm around me too. I draped my arms around his neck and looked him in the eye, wondering where this was going and if Sarah's assumption about his (lack of) fidelity was correct. He maintained eye contact with me for a few moments before pulling me against him again, the side of his face now right next to mine, so our cheeks were almost touching. We gyrated like this for a minute or so, before he began half walking, half dancing with me towards the edge of the dancefloor, weaving his way through the throng again in the opposite direction to the VIP area, heading towards the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Where are you taking me?" But he just shook his head, grinning, and I laughed as I allowed him to lead me where he wanted. Eventually he stopped at a free table in the far corner, just out of sight of the dancefloor, where the music wasn't quite so loud and I didn't have to yell to be heard.

"Just fancied getting away from the crowd," he explained, gesturing to a chair at the table.

I sat down and surveyed him with amusement. "But our booth is that way," I said, hooking a thumb over my shoulder in the vague direction of the VIP area.

"Maybe I wanted to get you on your own for a minute," he said cheekily.

"And why is that?" I smiled.

He looked down at the tablecloth for a moment, and then back up at me. He studied my face for a few seconds, and then rested his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table.

"You look familiar," he said eventually.

"Well I should hope so," I huffed. "You've been buying me drinks for the last hour. I didn't think you were that drunk!"

"You know what I mean," he chided. "I feel like we've met before."

"We definitely haven't," I declared.

"You seem very sure about that," he remarked with a knowing smile, and my heart beat a little faster at the familiar expression on his face that I had seen numerous times: on stage, in interviews, in fan videos. He studied me, his look of amusement never faltering. "Don't I look familiar to you?" he asked carefully after a moment, and suddenly I understood. He was trying to find out if I knew who he was.

I was about to answer truthfully, but then at the last second I decided I could have a little fun with this, so I smiled coyly at him and cocked my head to the side. "No, why? Should I?"

He continued to watch me, seemingly trying to read my expression. "Maybe not, then."

"Where did you think you knew me from?" I probed, wondering wickedly if he would reveal who he was, or at least admit he didn't really recognise me.

He shrugged. "Just around. I meet a lot of people, so maybe you just have a familiar face."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What do you do?"

He smirked, studying my face again, and took a few seconds to answer. "I'm a musician."

"Oh cool!" I exclaimed. "What instrument do you play?"

"I sing. And write songs," he smiled.

"Oh, like in a band?" I enquired, praying my mouth wasn't twitching.

"Yeah, in a band." His smirk grew.

"That's cool. Do you play anywhere locally?"

He chuckled and pressed his lips together tightly, letting out a slow puff of air. "Yeah, a couple of gigs in and around London, I suppose."

"That's really great," I enthused. "I love supporting local talent. Although you don't have a local accent, if you don't mind me saying. Are you from up north?"

"Yeah, Yorkshire. Doncaster, to be precise. I've lived in London a few years, though."

"What made you decide to move down here?" I asked. I was enjoying this, and Louis was grinning to himself with every word that passed between us.

"I needed to be closer to work," he said vaguely. "And London's exciting."

"It definitely is," I agreed. "It can be daunting at first, though, moving to a city where you don't know anyone."

"You get used to it, in time," he shrugged. 

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I was biting my lip to contain my laugh. "But does it ever drive you crazy," I asked innocently, "just how fast the night changes?"

He closed his eyes and gave a resigned chuckle, before sitting back in his chair and shaking his head at me, laughing. "I can not believe I fell for that," he said.

"I can't believe you thought I didn't know who you were," I retorted. 

He smirked and shook his head again. "Damn, you're good."

I said nothing, as I wasn't sure how to respond to this. I didn't know if I might have pissed him off by misleading him, but something told me he was more amused than annoyed, and this thought made my stomach flip.

He paused for a moment, and then chuckled again. "See, now I'm wondering what I've already said to you this evening, and whether you've been thinking all along that I'm an obnoxious prat."

I shook my head, smiling. "I don't think you're an obnoxious prat. A flirt, maybe, but not a prat."

He held both hands up in surrender. "Yeah, maybe I'm guilty of that. Do you want to dance some more? Give me time to work on some new chat up lines?"

The fluttering was back in my stomach again as I looked at him, and my heart began pounding. I wasn't sure where he could be going with this. He couldn't have split up with Eleanor - it would have been all over social media. Which meant Sarah was right: he was either a cheat or they had an open relationship. Neither of these appealed to me. That said, I couldn't fight the temptation to get up close to him again, even though I knew it couldn't go anywhere.

"Dancing sounds good," I nodded. "And then I'd better get back to Sarah. I don't want her worrying about me."

We stood up together, and he suddenly slid his arm around my waist again. "Before we do," he began uncertainly, hesitating for moment and brushing his fringe to the side across his face with his free hand. 

I waited, meeting his gaze, our faces closer than they should have been for two people who had only just met and were not going to kiss. He looked deep into my eyes, and then to my lips. My heart missed a beat as he leaned forward, and I came to my senses in the nick of time, placing my palm on his chest and pushing him gently back just before his lips touched mine. He looked taken aback, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at me almost questioningly, waiting for me to speak.

"OK... you're drunk, and you have a girlfriend," I said awkwardly. "I'm not the type of girl who goes around ruining other people's relationships.

He stared at me for a moment, and then gave a soft chuckle and looked down at the floor. "You're a true One Direction fan, then?" he asked. "You must be, if you know about Eleanor."

"Yeah, I'm a fan," I admitted. "And I also wouldn't kiss a guy knowing he has a girlfriend, no matter who he was."

He sighed and tucked his hands into his back pockets. "Look... it's not what you think. My life... it's sort of complicated at the moment. I'm not a cheat."

"You almost were," I pointed out. "You came pretty close."

"No, I..." He hesitated again. "It's complicated," he repeated, after a long pause. "I don't cheat."

I shook my head, confused but not wanting to pry into his private life. "OK. Look, let's go and dance. There's no harm in that, is there?"

He looked at me for a moment, his face straight and his expression unreadable. "OK. Let's dance."

He reached down and took my hand and I followed him awkwardly onto the dance floor, our previous relaxed flirting now sounding childish and embarrassing as I replayed it in my head, after the conversation that had just taken place. He found a space and inclined his head, indicating I should come close to him again. I moved towards him and let him slide his arm around me, his face pressing into my neck as we moved to the music. Behind me, a sweaty guy was jumping up and down, jostling with me every leap, and I felt Louis turn us both around so I was out of harm's way. 

He lifted his head slightly and shouted in my ear again. "You're lovely."

I hoped and prayed to every god in the universe that he couldn't feel my heart pounding in my chest, or my body trembling with nerves. "You're drunk," I replied.

"Not that drunk," he said. 

I chose not to reply to this. I didn't know how.

He dropped a gentle kiss on the curve of my neck, and I felt my skin break out in goosebumps at his touch. My mind went into overdrive, imagining this scenario in the privacy of a bedroom. I could let him kiss my neck, my shoulder... I could lift his lips to mine to kiss him back; run my hands down his chest to the button of his jeans -

He lifted his head again and leaned towards me, his lips landing on the corner of my mouth briefly, his stubble prickling my skin and sending a jolt of desire to the pit of my stomach.

I stepped away from him using every ounce of willpower I had to stop him before he did something he would end up regretting. He gave a sigh, and I took his hand and led him back across the dancefloor towards the VIP area, my skin tingling and my pulse racing. 

"Will you give me your number?" he asked, as we approached the rope cordon and the bouncer let us through. I eyed Louis with suspicion, but his expression was sincere. "Look, no strings, OK?" he added. "I thought we were friends?"

I hesitated, wanting nothing more than to give him my number, because let's face it - who wouldn't want a call or a text from Louis Tomlinson? But did I really want to get involved with a pop star who had a girlfriend? I read about this stuff all the time in the media: men cheating on their wives and girlfriends, only to be forgiven time and time again. 

Was Louis really one of those guys? I couldn't bear the thought of it, but I also wasn't naïve enough to presume I knew anything about him just because his life was plastered all over the papers. He could be a slimy rat for all I knew. However, despite all of this, it seemed I had underestimated the power of my inner Directioner.

"OK," I relented, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. (I mean, what were the odds that he would actually get in touch with me after tonight anyway? I had made it pretty clear I wasn't interested in guys that had girlfriends.)

He handed me his phone, and I quickly typed my number into the keypad. 

"I'll ring yours now, so you can save my number," he said, and then a thought suddenly seemed to occur to him. "Don't give it out to anyone though, yeah?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you take me for? I'm not interested in passing it around the fandom."

"You'd be surprised what people do," he said, almost bitterly. "Not that I think you're like that," he added, hastily, as though worried he had offended me, which was interesting considering he was the one giving his number out to a girl in a club, when his long-term partner was probably sitting at home waiting for him.

He lifted his phone to his ear, and then threw me a look of utter disbelief. "This call can't be connected right now? Did you just give me a fake number?"

I laughed at the barely disguised outrage on his face and shook my head. "No, I promise I didn't. But my phone gets no signal in here, so you won't be able to get through."

He narrowed his eyes at me, twisting his mouth into a wicked smirk, and then looked down at his phone screen. "OK then. Tell me your number."

As I reeled it off he stared down at his phone, and then looked up at me with a satisfied smile. "OK. Just checking."

"If I didn't want to give you my number I would have just told you to piss off," I said bluntly, and he laughed.

"Yes, I imagine you would," he conceded. "You're a right fiesty one, aren't you?"

I grinned cheekily at him, and he smiled back as we slid into our booth.

"I was about to send out a search party!" Sarah exclaimed as we sat down. "You've been gone hours!"

I looked at my watch and saw it was past one in the morning. I had no idea what time I had left Sarah to go and dance with Louis, but it felt like a few minutes rather than a couple of hours.

"I'm so sorry," I apologised, but she waved her hand impatiently. "It's fine, I was just worried that's all. You left your bag here and everything."

"Sorry, I kept her talking," Louis smiled.

"You fancy going on somewhere else?" Oli shouted across to Louis, who shrugged and looked down at his phone.

Sarah leaned across the table to me."If you're going off with Louis I'm gonna call it a night," she said.

"What? I'm not going off with him!" I hissed.

"I don't mind," she said, quickly. "I think you should go for it!"

"No - he's got a girlfriend, I told you. But I also know that if I stay around him any longer I won't be able to resist temptation and I'll end up being that girl. So I'm ready to go home if you are."

"Jess - think very carefully about what you're saying," Sarah insisted. "You're never going to get this opportunity again. Don't make a rash decision."

"I'm not," I replied. "Trust me, I'm ready to go."

She nodded and got to her feet, and I stood up too, so once again Louis and Oli had to stand up to let us out of the booth.

"It was lovely meeting you," I said to Louis.

"You're going?"

"Yeah, time to call it a night," I said.

"That's a shame. You sure you don't want to come with us for one more drink? I'll see you get home safely afterwards, I promise."

I shook my head. "Thank you for the offer, and for the Champagne. But I need to get home."

He nodded, and leaned towards me to kiss me on the cheek. "I'll text you," he said. "You know, just as friends. To say hi, and stuff."

"OK," I smiled, not really believing him.

He gave Sarah a kiss on the cheek too, and we waved goodbye to Oli before heading out of the VIP area and across the main room to the exit. I paused as the bouncer let us out, and glanced back over to our booth. Louis was twisted round in his seat, watching us, and as our eyes met across the crowded club the corners of his mouth twitched into a smirk. I couldn't help smirking back, and as I began to turn away I saw him give me the tiniest wink, before we were ushered out of the door into the cold night air.

My ears were ringing as we stepped into a taxi, and from the depths of my bag I vaguely heard my phone pinging as a few texts came through. I retrieved it, tuning out Sarah's excited chatter, and saw I had four messages from my friend Callie and one from an unknown number.

My stomach lurched as I read Callie's texts first, unable to believe my own eyes:

You need to come to this house party tonight! It's a life or death situation. Call me when you get this xx

CALL ME, IT'S URGENT xxx

I could hardly hear you on the phone just then but please please ring me back, it's a One Direction emergency xx

Babe you're gonna kill me when you get these messages. Harry Styles was at the party tonight, I'm so sorry I couldn't get through to you, I kept trying your phone but I couldn't get an answer. Call me asap. Love you xxx

My mouth had gone dry and my body felt numb as I stared down at the words on my screen. How could this have happened? What were the odds of both Callie and I meeting my two favourite members of One Direction on the same night, when our paths had no reason to cross?! It could only be described as a cruel twist of fate.

With trembling fingers I opened the message from the unknown number, and almost dropped my phone on the floor:

Just in case you ever fancy another dance, here's my number. Louis x