For once, Grace is sufficiently drunk before she makes it to the club. She and Elina had stocked up on pre-mixed vodka drinks, in order to avoid spending their entire student loans at the bar in one night. It meant that the pair were able to quickly dispose of their coats in the cloakroom, and head straight to the dancefloor.

As usual, Elina looks radiant; her loose curls hiked up into a neat bun, with strategically placed strands falling around her face. Her skirt is plain black and bodycon, showcasing her stunning figure and long, caramel coloured legs. Grace would have been jealous, but Elina was like a sister to her, so all she could feel was pride.

Unlike her friend, Grace isn't as fond of showing her legs. It isn't that they look bad, in fact, Grace thought she had a nice body, but the way that certain styles of clothing fit her prove that many designers do not have curvier women in mind. Grace can count on one hand the number of skirts that she would be comfortable wearing out clubbing, and the idea of wearing shorts is a non-starter.

Even without showing as much skin, Grace feels like a goddess. Her hair is in long, ombre box braids, protecting her curls from the harsh British weather. She has it in a half up style, with two strands pulled out to frame the sides of her face. On her legs, a pair of black vinyl trousers that have an attractive shine, accentuating the curve of her bottom. Her white crop top, while modest in design, is tight enough that it hugs her chest nicely, giving it a beautiful shape.

Grace dances to a song she doesn't recognise, grinning as Elina sings the words enthusiastically. She moves slowly, without thought, just letting the music move through her. She surveys the room as she always does. It might be an anxiety thing, but she likes to know exactly what's going on around her, to have seen everyone's face, to sus out the atmosphere. Her eyes zone in on the bar, where she notices a familiar head of sandy brown hair.

With wide eyes, Grace taps Elina's hip, gesturing with her head towards the figure, which is flanked by two others.

"Arthur." She says, hoping Elina can hear her, or at least read her lips, "At the bar. With Will and Richard."

"Oh shit yeah!" Elina says happily, "I didn't think they were the clubbing types."

"Me neither." Grace says, trailing off. She's perfectly content to stand there staring at Arthur's beautiful side profile, but Elina clearly has other ideas. Before she can protest, her arm is nearly yanked out of her socket as she tries to follow her friend to the bar.

"Hey guys!" Elina exclaims, hugging the three boys.

Grace didn't think it was possible, but Arthur has actually gotten more attractive since the last time she saw him. In the daytime, he dresses normally, he wears what looks nice and is appropriate for the day. But tonight, he had clearly made an effort and it's paying off. The purple dress shirt and black jeans combo have worked out in his favour.

Grace follows Elina's lead, giving each boy a wide smile and warm hug, noticing that Arthur's arms wrapped around her for the longest. She chooses to let that thought go.

"You girls want drinks?" Rich asks. He's uncharacteristically goofy, making Grace think that he might be a little drunker than she is, "They're on Arthur."

Arthur lets out an indignant sound and rolls his eyes, making the rest of the group laugh. He looks over at Grace with his hip leaning against the edge of the bar. The smirk is a familiar sight on his handsome face, and by now he must know exactly what it does to her. In fact, Grace's reaction is the same, no matter how Arthur looks at her. But for some reason, the shy, embarrassed feeling she normally feels is replaced by a simple heat. There's an expression in his eyes that she can't place. It isn't sexual, or vulgar, but it's... intimate. And she feels helpless under his gaze. She can't help but look away.

Then Arthur puts an arm around Grace's shoulder and her body ends up pressed against his as he whispers into her ear, "What do you fancy?"

You. She wants to say. Desperately. But she isn't drunk enough for that confidence yet, so she settles for, "What are you having?"

He moves his head away, still close to her, but far enough that she can no longer feel his breath on her cheek. Humming softly, he looks over at the bar then smiles, "Vodka shots?"

Grace grins. The wild British teenager within her going giddy, "Go on then."

One shot turns into two, then three, and eventually, Arthur, Grace and their three friends are crowded together, jumping and singing with reckless abandon.

Rich and Will go crazy, laughing and nodding their heads to the beat, their energy infecting the whole circle. Elina and Grace hold onto each other, dancing energetically, knees knocking ever so often, giant grins on their faces. And Arthur - who looks like a rare jewel - has a carefree smile on his face, his pearly white teeth shining under the UV lights of the club. His light skin almost glowing as he moves, attracting everyone's attention.

He grabs Elina's free hand, then takes Grace's with a squeeze, spinning them both on each arm. The two girls hug into his side, then reach out and pull Rich and Will into their little huddle.

The distance between London and Cardiff makes it difficult for Grace to go home regularly in the school year. But this, stood in the centre of a sweaty nightclub, suffocated by her four, very different friends, brings back the feeling of family in full force.

By the time the group separates, Rich decides that it's time for more drinks. He yanks Will's hand, causing the skinny man to blush brightly. Interesting, Grace thinks.

"I'm gonna go too; I need some water." Elina shouts to Arthur and Grace over the music before bounding off after the two men.

Grace hadn't realised until they were only in each other's presence, but she and Arthur had stayed uncomfortably close the whole time. He gazes down at her, an adorably wonky smile playing on his pink lips.

Lips.

Grace stares at them, not even noticing that she licks her own until the tip Arthur's tongue starts peeking out of his mouth.

What's happening? She questions herself.

She's sober enough to know that this is a bad idea, but too drunk to care. Arthur's lips look too soft, and too pink for her to be worrying about silly things like inhibitions.

He wants you.

She can hear herself now, what she'll be thinking in the morning, convincing herself that it didn't mean anything to him, and so it wouldn't mean anything to her. That's Sober Grace's problem though. For now, Tipsy Grace is being looked at like a three-course meal by the most handsome man she's ever seen.

She tilts her head up, still unsure whether this is the best thing to do, but before she can make up her mind, Arthur's lips are pressed against hers.

It's electric. It's exhilarating. It's effervescent. It feels there are micro-explosions bubbling away under the surface of her skin. She pulls away, eyes wide and uncertain. Arthur looks down at her with intensity, he's visibly riled up.

Grace gulps and parts her lips, preparing to beg him to forget it even happened.

But then he's kissing her again. More passionate than before, this time sneaking his tongue past her lips. It's hard and soft all at once; like he wants to ravage her and savour her at the same time.

There are hands on her hips, her waist, her neck, her bum. She gasps, barely keeping up with the sensory overload that is Arthur everywhere.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Grace is coherent enough to hear the music changing in the club. It's enough of a shock to pull her out of her Arthur induced haze. She can't do much more than that, so she just stares at him. That really just happened.

She wants to freak out, to curse herself for falling into the trap laid out by another pretty boy with one thing on his mind. But for some reason this feels different.

And when Arthur gestures towards the door, holding out a warm, inviting hand, she takes it without hesitation.