You feel the music pounding your head. It feels nice sometimes, but today it's just giving you a headache. The sweat isn't helping either. The (terrible) Nirvana cover from your friend's band blasts through the speakers and there's only so much you can take before you ultimately smash up the guitars.

You throw the band a thumbs up and squish your way through the crowd towards the bar, and order a glass of water. Taking your glass, you climb up the stairs at the back, right beside the draft from the door and take a sip. The music's still loud but at least your head isn't pounding anymore.

As you're sitting there, you see a boy climb up the stairs. He has blonde hair peeking out of a black cap, and deep blue eyes matching his blue shirt. The purple lights highlight the sweat glistening on his face, illuminating a small blush on his cheeks.

"Hi." He says with a nervous smile. "Sorry, the band's shit and you seem much cooler. Would you mind if I sat next to you amd watched you smile?"

You can't help the blush rising on your own cheeks. "Sure." You say, reciprocating the smile, and you scoot over.

He sits down, you're hips touching, causing a wave of heat to spread throughout your body.

"That's my friend's band." You tell him after an awkward silence.

"Oh.. oh goodness!" He says apologetically. "They're... unique."

A loud laugh erupts from your mouth. "Yeah, it's okay, they are very bad."

"I think my band's better, and we're awful." He jokes, pushing his glasses up his face. You wish he didnt wear them so you could see him more clearly.

"You're in a band?" You ask, pushing for conversation.

"Uh yeah." He scratches his nose. "I uh.. I sing. I'm not good but Pete says I am."

You imagine him standing on that stage singing. His talking voice is already gorgeous, like warm caramel, his singing must be spectacular. "I bet you're amazing."

"I'm not so sure." He laughs. God, his laugh is just as beautiful as he is. "You should check us out though. Do you want my number? F-For the band, of course!"

"Yeah, I'd love that." You reply. He grabs ur wrist and pulls out a pen, writing gently on the back of your hand. Your mouth has suddenly gone dry so you take a sip of water, hoping you don't choke. "Thanks." You say quietly.

"You don't have to come. If you don't want to!" He says, resting a hand on your thigh. You take another drink. "I'm not pressuring you, just if you want to."

"I do." You tell him. "I'd love to!"

"Really?" He says skeptically. "I'm sure your taste isn't that bad."

"I think my taste is quite good, thank you very much." You shout stubbornly. "And I think your band will be great."

He blushes again and bites his lip, and damn he looks so good. "Thank you." He says, his voice deep and serious. He leans forward, and you can feel his hot breath on your face. "You're so beautiful." He says, and your stomach does a little backflip. Then suddenly, his lips are on yours. His soft, plump, gorgeous lips are kissing yours. And you're kissing back. Your glass topples out of your hand and rolls down the stairs, it'll probably cause an accident but you don't care.

You feel hands on your hips, exploring, slowly curling under your shirt, and along your stomach. Your own hands have reached out, roaming his body, his curves and his soft stomach. Now, one of his hands rises to your neck, snaking round the back of your head and pulling you closer to him. You obey, and interlock your knees.

Unfortunately, you're both breathless so have to separate for air. You're about to kiss him again but he stands up. Disappointed, you pull a face.

"Sorry, I have to go now." He tells you, and starts to head down the stairs.

"What's your name?" You shout to him.

"Patrick." He replies with a smile.

Patrick.