Page 10 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
“Two shots each,” she sing-songs as I step out of my room. “Let’s get ready to party, girl.”
The chaser is much needed. Lindsey’s cheap whiskey burns on the way down, and the soda helps with the sharp aftertaste. I gag a little, and she snickers.
“Weak.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, sticking my fake ID and key in my bra. “Ready?”
My tracker is safely on the bedside table. No one will know I’m gone.
“Of course. Did I tell you Mitchell is going to be there?” She sighs and launches into an in-depth plan of attack for hooking up with him tonight.
I pretend like I’m listening, but as we walk to the car, my mind drifts to everything that happened earlier. I give the recent memories a few seconds then lock them away, closing them tightly in a box at the back of my mind. Another day to forget.
Lindsey blasts some fast-paced electronic music and bops along to it. I take the suppressant bottle out of the glovebox and down two pills, grimacing at the aftertaste. Lindsey navigates toward downtown Dolin, and I lean my head against the headrest, watching the lights pass by. Warmth fills my belly as the alcohol starts to kick in. It’ll take more than two shots to get me drunk, but it’s a good start. Rubbing at my ear, I trace over the marks Mother left behind.
“Here,” Lindsey shouts over the music. “You look like you need this.” She passes me a vape pen.
I stare at it. I don’t typically smoke, but tonight is my last night to be wild and do whatever I want. I don’t have to answer to my pack yet. Once I’m mated to a bunch of alphas, I can’t be crazy. One last night of rebellion. That’s all this is.
Sure it is, a voice whispers inside my head. I ignore it. I’m not worried about logic right now. My heart hurts, and I’ve cried more than enough tears for one day.
“Fuck it,” I say, lifting the pen to my lips and inhaling.
“Hell yeah! This is going to be epic.” Lindsey smiles and bobs her head, tapping her fingers to the beat on the steering wheel.
I give her the vape pen back and lean my head against the back of the seat, staring out of the window. She parks in an alley in the warehouse district behind a long line of cars. Stuffing her keys into her bra, she waggles her eyebrows at me before hopping out of the car. I follow her with less enthusiasm, but a little thrill of excitement rushes through me. It is technically illegal for me to be out right now. Omegas don’t get to have fun. There’s a strictly enforced curfew at eleven, and I’m sure as shit not supposed to be partying. Good thing I smell like a beta.
The sidewalk is deserted, but Lindsey takes off with purposeful steps.
Guess the party is this way.
“Hey, Ricky.” Lindsey waves her hand at a bouncer and grabs my arm, dragging me toward the sketchy building with boarded up windows. There’s no sign indicating what the property is. This building must’ve been vacant before it was turned into this club. Faint music pulses from behind the cinderblock walls and washes over me. The guy she’s waving at is perched on an almost comically small stool, a touch of yellow light bathing his face. His lips draw back into a lazy grin.
“Hey, Lindsey. Who’s your friend?” Ricky is a burly beta who grew up on our block. I pretend not to recognize him, but his eyebrows jump to his hairline as he takes me in. He breathes in and laughs. “Oh shit. Girl, you’ve got balls. Camila will have your ass if you get caught out.”
“Camila is a bitch,” I reply. I know full well what’ll happen to me. I don’t give a damn, especially not with the buzz I have going now. “You going to let us in or what? Thinking about snitching?”
“There she is. I was wondering when you’d stop moping.”
I glare at Lindsey. “My grandma just died, Lindsey.”
“Oh, I know.” She chews on her bottom lip and makes a face. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Whatever,” I say, glancing at Ricky. “I need some alcohol.”
“Don’t worry, I’m no snitch. You can have your fun. If you’re looking for a good time, you’re in luck. Poppy is bartending tonight.” He gets off the stool and opens the door. “Try the vodka bomb.”
“Thanks.” I nod at him and head inside without my so-called friend. I strut down the dark corridor toward the music.
Lindsey’s heels clack on the tile behind me. “Whit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Forget it,” I snap. I slow down so she can catch up and soften my tone. “I want tonight to be fun.”
Threading her fingers with mine, she squeezes my hand. “Me too. I’m already buzzed.”
“Same.” I laugh, and we push through long, black velvet curtains.
Colored strobe lights flicker over a concrete dance floor. There are so many people dancing it’s hard not to feel a little excited. The DJ is on point, and the beat is upbeat and heavy enough that I start to sway to the rhythm.
