Page 11 of I Shouldn't Love This Way

It seemed the nature of Steph’s relationship with this “Marco” character was strictly friends-with-benefits. She never went into detail about how they met. Walking ahead, Steph led the way as we followed behind her like groupies.

We skipped the long lineup and walked toward some bouncers who stood tall and intimidating next to a big, black door. Loud music was pounding away from inside the building. I got nervous when it was my turn to flash my fake ID. If you wanted to get into VIP, then you needed to be at least twenty-one. Just like Steph had promised, we got in with no hassle.

“See, ladies?” She beamed. “Didn’t I tell you we’d get in? Tonight’s gonna be a blast!”

We passed through security and walked down a long, dark corridor that had red neon floor lights. It was like walking through a red tunnel. If my gran were here, she would have compared it to a first-class trip to Hell. The irony was that she was looping in her own hell and completely ignorant of it—but that’s a conversation I was saving for a therapy session. I was a sinner in her eyes, but I was more than fine with that. A night ofdrinking and partying was nothing compared to my long list of sins that had surely angered God with Noah.

“Nowthisis my kind of music!” Tammy cheered.

Booming bass and loud dance music blasted around us, synchronized in rhythm with a wicked laser light show. Approaching the main room, the bar looked incredible. The countertops were glowing in purple, with an amazing backdrop of running water pouring behind rows of gleaming liquor bottles. The glass shelving created an optical illusion, as if the bottles were floating. It was modern and impressive.

“Oh, my God!” Jess exclaimed. “I can’t believe we’re actually here! This is so F-ing awesome!” She could hardly contain her excitement, while I tried not to trip on my heels.

The dance floor was packed. A DJ was spinning some hot house tracks from the DJ booth. I don’t think I had ever seen so many multicolored laser lights before in my life. The giant LCD screens mounted on the ceiling looked amazing. The visual effects were state-of-the art, and I stood in awe as a huge crowd of people were canon blasted with CO2 to cool off. A low haze of fog crept in below our feet while we took in the surrounding nightlife. Marco escorted us to the VIP section at the back of the club.

The main room had a red, green, and purple theme, divided into sections; it was upscale and screamed luxury. We sat on a moon sofa and ordered drinks when a server came by. I ordered a Cosmopolitan, Tammy got a Pear Martini, Jessica ordered a Strawberry Daiquiri, and Steph got a Sex On the Beach cocktail.

“Get ready to party it up, girls!” Tammy raised her glass. “Cheers!”

We clinked our drinks together before gulping back the liquor. The first sip felt icy and burned down my throat. But it had a sweet and tangy aftertaste, which I liked. The music was so loud that it made it hard to carry a conversation, so we kept ondrinking, ordering Cherry Bomb vodka shots one after another. I had a low alcohol tolerance, which meant I had to take it easy on the booze that night. By the time I had my second shot, I was already buzzing. Scanning my surroundings, I listened to the drone chatter of people socializing with one another. Most of these “night crawlers” were just looking to hook up and have fun instead of walking out with a life partner.

We hadn’t been sitting long when two guys randomly approached us and asked Tammy and Jess if they wanted to dance. My friends were more than willing to accept their invitation since the guys were their type. Steph and I sat back and had a few more drinks while Jess and Tammy disappeared in the dancing crowd. Before I could strike up a conversation, my phone vibrated.

Everything okay with you over there?

It was from Noah. Punching a response, I tried to hide my anxiety.

Everything’s fine.

I was about to put my phone away when I got another incoming message:

Call me if you want to come home.

There was no way I was going home tonight. I messaged him back and told him I was staying. But then he texted me:

Okay… I was just saying.

Rolling my eyes, I sent him another text, hoping it would be my last.

We’re watching a movie right now “DAD”-Bye.

Five seconds later:

Stop being a smartass.

My response:

Stop texting me.

His response:

Fine.

Me wanting the last word:

FINE.

Noah putting me in my place:

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