6.

Though his words were often unkind, cruel - I found myself unable to resist the temptation that was his existence. He had crept his way into my mind, and refused to leave, ripping apart everything I knew and accepted, and transforming me completely.

I rushed into the nearest bathroom I could find, desperate to get away from the crowd now forming upstairs, and frankly from the reality that was slowly becoming my life. I had not the intention of getting into an argument with my one and only friend here, but I guess I didn't intend for many things to happen, so this was a sure start to a tragic end.

I locked the door and proceeded to wipe away at the mascara that began to slightly run down my cheeks, and I hadn't even realised I was crying until I looked in the mirror. My eyes were puffy with exhaustion, and my cheeks excessively red. I wiped away the highlighter too, and pulled my hair out of the tight ponytail it had been in all day. I looked tired, fed up - and I needed to get out of here.

As I check my phone I see six missed calls from Sam, and I immediately begin to panic. I call him back and am rewarded with his voicemail, and when I pull the phone away from my ear I realise that it is just past ten, and that he probably crashed as soon as he got back from the studio.

My situation worsens when I hear a loud pounding on the door, and I let out a groan of frustration as I pull myself together and tug on the short skirt in an attempt to cover at least half of my upper thighs. I hate cheerleading uniform.

The pounding grows louder and my patience begins to run thin.

"Just a minute!" I call out, but when the person continues I unlock the door with force and stomp out of the bathroom.

Only to bump into the last person I needed to see right then.

"I'm sorry, I -"

Green eyes. Those beautiful green eyes that I had been deprived of for a week. I hadn't realised just how much I missed the sight of them until I couldn't see them anymore.

"You," I breathe, and attempt to excuse myself out of the way, but his tall frame blocks the way.

"What's a girl like you doing at a party like this?" He asks, and my eyes quickly dart down, as to avoid another awkward stare off.

"Um, I was just..."

"Are you always this hesitant in conversation?" He smirks and I shake my head violently, embarrassed at how much I had been stammering. I'm a Literature major, not an idiot.

"Look, I've just had a really long night and I'd really like to go home. So, will you please move out of the way and not be difficult about this?"

"Ohh, so she does speak in full sentences. Tell me freshman, was my kind suggestion not enough to keep you away from cheerleading?"

His eyes dart down, and I tug on my skirt once again as he lets out a little chuckle.

How dare he think I'd actually take his advice. I didn't even know him.

"This coming from a complete stranger whom I don't even know the name of?"

"If you wanted my name love, you should've just asked. Going out of your way and signing up... I didn't realise I was that good looking that you had to resort to extremes to find me again." His smirk is stupidly evident now, and I hadn't noticed he had moved us to a corner as to not stand in the middle of the hallway.

"I didn't do it for you," I seethe, completely shocked at the level of arrogance he was displaying right now.

"So who for then? Because you don't seem like the type to do anything for yourself."

Excuse me?

"My boyfriend, actually, not that it is any of your business."

"You're right, it's not. I just wanted to see if you were truly stupid, or if there was some hope for independence in there." He pokes mockingly at my chest, and I place my palm flat against his and push him back with force.

"I'm not having this conversation with you. I'm going home." I state, and move around him to head for the stairs.

"To your boyfriend?" He smirks again. God, can he just stop looking so painfully attractive whilst being so annoyingly cocky?

"Yes. To my boyfriend."

"What's your name?" He surprises me by asking, a softer tone replacing his voice. His voice was so soothing when he spoke like this - his accent thick yet reassuring, providing a weird sense of comfort. Get it together Dove.

I debated on whether or not to tell him. He wasn't worthy of knowing who he was talking to - I was better than him in every possible way, and he was just another one of those frat boys that had no real sense of consistency in their lives. I must've been standing there for a bit too long, because he moves towards me and clears his throat, his breath suddenly hot on my cheek as he leans in and rests his hand against the wall so that he could be eye level with me. God, his height was so intimidating.

"Did you not hear me, freshman?"

"D-Dove?" I said, but it came out more like a question than a definite answer.

"Do I make you nervous, Dove?" He asks, leaning in even further, to the point where I could smell the faint scent of cigarettes and liquor on his breath. However, I don't think he was as intoxicated as the rest of the people here.

"I better go," I whisper, and once again move past his side, this time determined to reach the stairs.

"Don't you want to know my name, Dove?" He hangs his head adorably, and for a minute his harsh features soften, then harden again, much like they did during our first encounter.

I pretend as if I didn't hear his question, and make my way down the stairs, finally escaping his grasp. Before I reach the bottom, I think I hear him mumble "I'll see you soon", but the rising volume of the music made it hard to be certain. On my way out, a hand reaches out for mine and I'm pulled back inside gently.

Oh no.

"Dove, what were you doing with Theo?" Yasmine questions, and I hang my head to the side, mirroring the actions of the boy with the green eyes.

Theo.