Over and Out

Chapter Eight

Between the outrageously loud music, the stifling heat and the dull throbbing of her feet, Lisa was decidedly not having a good time. They'd been there for a little while; she was still tense from their entrance, not knowing whether or not they'd be let in blindly by the two bouncers set up at the door without a pat-down. Thankfully, Hanbin had said something or another to them, so quiet that she was surprised they even heard it, and sure enough they were being ushered through, single file into the dark, glimmering abyss. Inside was a cavernous room, with a long neon bar stretching across the middle, separating the area into two dancefloors. The walls were blank, but set up with projectors, so each stretch sported a different psychedelic display, and myriads of lights flashed across the darkness.  A few tables were placed on each side, and the DJ booth was on a raised platform on the second floor, where even more people were dancing. To one side there was a VIP area, a regal door with a rope in front, which was seemingly empty at present; this was where they were focused, with no doubt that it was the sort of place Mr J would utilise if he was present.

 They'd strategically scattered, to cover as much ground as possible, Lisa leaning against the bar casually, nothing but a cup of ice water keeping her company. She could see Bobby and Jaewon chatting to some girls a little way away, and Jennie dancing at the edge of the dancefloor, all seemingly normal partiers. Only the trained eye would notice the little glances each of them was sending to each-other; she turned to where Hanbin was sat, at the opposite end of the bar, looking at her wrist meaningfully, then raising her eyebrows. He frowned, shaking his head slightly, before turning to survey the rest of the room—no sight of Mr J or any of his men yet. Lisa almost felt more jittery with uncertainty, and she knew that until she had eyes on the mark she wouldn't be settled. Sighing, she mentally swept the room, looking for exit options, and dark corners that could be used if things got ugly; she'd rather it not get to that point, but could think of nothing else useful to do.

"Lisa, hey!" She jumped back into reality as Chaeyoung shook her arm. The other girl was flushed, either from excitement, or, Lisa thought, as she took her in, the drink dangling from her hand. She shook her head disapprovingly, but was glad at least someone was having some sort of fun tonight.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Clearly." Chaeyoung rolled her eyes, as she extended the bottle to her.

"What's this?" Lisa peered at the label, trying to make out anything in the dim light.

"Just drink. Jennie told me about your sad little situation and so we've both decided that this is the perfect time to fix it."

"Maybe I don't want to fix it." She argues stubbornly, her words negated by the tentative sip she took from the bottle—it was dangerously sweet, whatever it was, and as she took another sip she stifled the tiny voice in her head warning her that this was a bad idea.

"Good girl." Chaeyoung mocked, patting her head, leaning over her to order another drink.

"Fuck off." She rolled her eyes, but took another swig, finding she quite liked whatever it was that'd been handed to her. The last time she had drunk alcohol—she shuddered violently, expelling the thought from her mind. It wasn't the time or place to revisit that dark alley of her mind, not when the factors were already stacked against her.

"Seriously thought, that top looks damn good on you- it'll be wonderful when someone takes it off for you tonight." She choked on her drink, glaring at her through splutters.

"What makes you think that's something I want?" She raised an eyebrow, that didn't fool the other girl one bit.

"The way you and the new guy have been looking at each other all night kinda gave it away. I don't blame you by the way, the man is too handsome for his own good." Lisa glanced towards the table where she knew Jaewon was sat with Bobby. She had been glancing in that direction more than any other since they'd arrived- and she knew he had been returning the favour. Idly, she mused that if she mustered the courage to take a leap of faith and sit on his lap, she would be welcomed with open arms. It was the bitter alcohol, cloaked by the fruity sweetness of the drink that let her think on it for much longer than acceptable—she found that she was growing more and more open to saying 'fuck it' and going over, especially considering just how good he looked, laughing at something someone had said.