Page 58 of Ruthless Chaos
Nya and I don’t care for it much—we stick to the fringes of the throng—but Tara is happy to be swallowed by the crowd, beer in hand. By the time we find her and leave, darkness has already enveloped the stadium.
We hail a taxi and pile into the backseat.
Our driver is an older gentleman. The scent of lemon air freshener and cigarette smoke lingers in the cabin. A Swiss folk song plays softly on the radio.
Nya gives him the address of our hotel.
“The first game of the season is always this crazy,” Tara slurs. “I fucking love it.”
She’s sandwiched between Nya and me for her own good.
Her cheeks are flushed, her words slurred. All those beers are setting in.
Nya smiles, looking up from her phone.
“Good to know,” she says. “It was a great game.”
Does she mean the team played well, or she enjoyed seeing Vance? She doesn’t elaborate. I look out the window.
The city streets are thick with traffic from the game, but our driver weaves through the congestion deftly. He turns us on to a narrow alley lined with tall, modern buildings, then back on to a main road.
“I think I’ve found a good club,” Nya says, holding her phone so both of us can see the screen. “They’ve got the perfect amount of reviews; not too many where it seems like a tourist trap, but enough to make me think the locals love it.”
Tara claps her hands excitedly. “What do the reviews say about the drinks?”
Nya scrolls, then picks out a five-star review. She reads it verbatim. It mentions that the reviewer got drunk off just two drinks.
“We’re going clubbing?” I ask, hoping the dread isn’t evident in my voice.
Another loud group of people and free-flowing alcohol isn’t appealing, especially when I have so much anxiety about parties.
I don’t want a repeat of the last time.
“I told you we would,” Tara says, nodding. “What’s the point of coming all this way if we don’t get to enjoy it a little?”
“I don’t think I’m up for that,” I say, shrugging. “I’m not feeling so good, and I’d rather get some rest.”
Tara’s mood shifts, like she’s about to give me an earful. Nya intervenes, though. She gives me a sympathetic look. I’m thankful she’s here.
“I think it’s fine if Allie stays back,” she says to Tara, putting a hand on her arm. “She was telling me about her headache earlier.” I never did. “A loud nightclub is probably going to make it worse.”
Tara looks me over, pouting.
“Fine. But I will get you to go clubbing with me one day. Mark my words.” She descends into a fit of hiccups.
I lean back with a sigh.
I don’t doubt that Tara intends to make good on her promise.
It won’t be today, though. I’m looking forward to the alone time.
I packed a few razors just in case I need some help relaxing tonight.
SIXTEEN
ALEXANDER
The city lightstwinkle beneath me.
