Envisioned

Chapter Three: Brielle

Getting ready in Kimber's bedroom, I was almost consumed by my excitement and anxiousness to go to the club.

My long, golden-brown hair was styled in big, sexy curls, and my make-up was to die for, thanks to Kimber. She had complimented all of my features, especially my eyes, accentuating them with black eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow, making the greens and ambers pop in contrast.

I had to hide my dress, a strapless, hot pink, leopard print number, from my dad in my overnight bag. It only grazed the middle of my thigh, which was definitely not house party attire, and would have blown my cover.

Kimber, in a stunning, teal, backless dress, was putting the finishing touches on her lip gloss. “Ready?” she asked me, fluffing her long, blonde hair one last time.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, super excited. For some reason, I had a strange amount of energy and I felt like I could run for miles, even though I hated to exercise. I attributed it to my nerves and excitement from the whole day.

Once we arrived at the harbor, I became nervous. What if the boat crashes? It was dark out, and I had never driven at night. What if I flip it? Death by boating accident was not how I wanted to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.

Kimber sensed my anxiety, and suggested, “I can drive if it will make you feel better.”

“Yeah, that would probably be best,” I agreed.

Kimber's parents also had a boat, and they let her drive it all of the time, so it made more sense since she was a more experienced driver. Plus, if my dad happened to come down to the docks, he wouldn't find mine missing.

The cool, night air helped calm my nerves, the ocean breeze soothing me like it always did. I tried to enjoy the ride over, finally able to obtain the freedom I had always wanted, but had never been allowed.

Stepping foot onto the Long Beach dock caused a liberating feeling to swell inside me. I was free, at least for a night, and I was going to take advantage of every second.

We took a taxi from the harbor to the club since our shoes were not conducive to walking. Thanks to Kimber's remarkable power of persuasion, we skipped the line, much to the dismay of all of the people waiting in it. They marked our hands with a gaudy, black “X” in permanent marker, informing everyone that we were minors.

It was already a little past eleven, and the club was packed wall-to-wall with people. The room was hued in shades of red, gold, and yellow, with modern white and red couches lining the walls, indicating VIP areas.

Kimber pulled me onto the dance floor in the center of the room, as Usher's “Scream” played in the background. As we danced, I caught sight of a guy watching us with a look that caused me to be uncomfortable.

Kimber noticed my discomfort, and followed my gaze to the creepy man. Her eyes slightly widened for a split second, so fast that I was sure that I had imagined it because they immediately set in a hard frown.