Page 15 of Collide
“Riley!” I say a little too loudly, trying to grab her attention. “Want to hit up The Avenue?” I ask, trying to drag her away from the scene before things get too uncomfortable.
Her eyes widen with excitement. “Heck yeah! I’m ready to dance and shake my thing!” She laughs, wiggling her hips dramatically.
Mark laughs too and shoots us a look. “You ladies have a great night. It was lovely to meet you, Riley.” His voice drips with smooth charm.
Riley giggles and almost melts into the ground.
I roll my eyes, but Riley—of course—grins and flirts back. “Call me.” She winks, holding her hand to her ear like she’s taking a phone call.
“Riley!” I hiss, pushing her out of his line of sight. “Really?!”
“What? He’s hot in a silver fox kind of way.” She snickers, taking my arm and leading me out of the club before things get more awkward.
The night air is cool as we step outside, the sounds of the city alive and buzzing around us. It’s late in the night—or early morning, whichever side of the clock you look at—and the city that never sleeps is proving its point. Riley and I are notorious for pulling all-nighters, so this is another night of many, now in New York.
The Avenue is jam-packed.The car pulls up to the front, and I see the massive line snaking around the corner. Riley groans beside me, but we step out of the car anyway, the familiar smell of alcohol, cheap perfume, cologne, and cigarettes greeting us like an old friend.
We start heading toward the back of the line when a bouncer calls my name.
“Elena Montgomery!” he shouts after me, his voice cutting through the noise.
I turn, squinting, and see a tall, dark-skinned man with a bald head and earrings in both ears.
“Yes?” I ask, a little confused.
“You don’t need to line up. Mr. Shepherd called ahead,” he says, stepping forward to usher us past the velvet ropes. “Please, come on in.” A few patrons waiting in the line protest at the preferential treatment.
I give Riley a wry smile, rolling my eyes.
“Shepherd?” she asks, clearly confused.
“Mark.” I laugh. Typical—she flirts with him all night and doesn’t even bother to get his full name.
The Avenue is in full swing. The energy is electric, bodies swaying in the pulsing neon haze. The music thrums in my chest, heavy bass reverberating through the floors, and the air is thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and spilled liquor. I take a slow breath, letting the atmosphere sink in. Nights like these remind me why I both love and loathe the chaos of this city—thrilling, intoxicating, and an overload for the senses. Go-go dancers in plastic neon tubes and black leather outfits gyrate and dance to the thumping beat of the music, the flashing lights making everything feel like a fever dream. A waitress approaches, handing us two glowing cocktails in test tubes, their color almost as bright as the club lights.
“Oh!” Riley squeals, taking one eagerly. I chuckle, mostly because her enthusiasm is infectious, even if I’m not quite sure what I’m about to drink.
We dance through the night, moving to the rhythm, letting the music pulse through our veins. After the seventh song, Riley wraps her arms around me like a vine, her grip tight and playful.
“Want more drinks?” she yells over the bass, her breath warm and thick with alcohol. The bass rattles my ribs as I nod, already a little unsteady. She disappears into the blur of bodies, and I’m left dancing with a tawny-skinned hottie who’s a little too handsy. His mouth moves, but the music’s a wall of sound. I just nod and laugh, pretending to hear.
My vision starts to blur as I continue dancing, and after a while, the man disappears into the crowd.
Okay, bye, I guess.
I can’t help but giggle at myself. Thanks for the dance, mystery man.
Riley is back in no time, handing me a purple drink. I take a sip, immediately realizing it’s more alcohol than cocktail mix.
Great.
Tomorrow’s gonna suck.
“Thehottest guy I have ever seen was at the bar and was totally watching you dance.” Riley giggles, leaning in a little too close, practically yelling into my ear.
I shake my head, not believing her. “No way.”
“I’m serious! He was like, ‘The petite brunette in the dark dress. Watch her.’” Her voice is full of excitement, and then, as if performing, she repeats what the guy allegedly said. “Look how she moves. She’s sexy.”
