Our indelible pasts|✔

sixty six - bryson

"ARE WE SERIOUSLY going to a strip club?" I ask for the umpteenth time.

"Asking the question a billion times won't change the answer Bryson." Mason answers and I sigh.

"I'm still pissed off that you lied to me. You told me we were going to play basketball. I was so psyched." I complain.

"Yeah, we know." Laughs Noah. "You forget that we're doing this for you."

Apparently, I've been wallowing too much lately and what I need is a 'mega distraction', as Mason put it. "I still don't understand how going to a strip club is supposed to help." I voice my thoughts.

"You'll understand when we get there." Noah says.

"It sounds like you're both speaking from experience." I laugh.

"No we're not. Which is what makes today extra special. We all get to experience it and see if it's worth it." Mason explains and I furrow my eyebrows at him.

"So you're basically just taking advantage of the fact that I got cheated on?" I ask, somewhat bewildered.

"When you put it like that..." Noah trails off and I roll my eyes from the backseat.

"It sounds bad." Mason finishes. "So please don't put it like that."

I laugh at Mason's stupidity. "You're such an idiot sometimes."

"We're here." Noah says shortly after, pulling up to a parking lot.

"I'm less concerned about why you picked a strip club as a form of therapy and more concerned about how you got here without a map." I say as we step out of the car.

"Less talking, more walking. We've got a great night ahead of us boys!" Noah rushes ahead of us, hands in the air, and I follow from a distance.

I find myself wishing I was cuddled up with Sandra and apparently that's just the motivation I need to be excited about the strip club. I pick up my pace, catching up with Mason and Noah, almost as if the moment I walk through the doors every memory I have with Sandra will be erased from my mind. But I won't lie, that wouldn't be so bad.

"Wow." I mutter to myself when we walk in, a wave of heat immediately hitting me like a truck. "It's hot in here."

For the past what, two hours, we've been sitting at a table near the stage, having drinks while a few women danced for us in lingerie. Any person that's attracted to girls would lose their composure in this room, but I just haven't been feeling it. The only thing I've truly paid attention to tonight is the booze–and Sandra. Yeah, I know, I'm stupid. But apparently, alcohol, beautiful semi naked women and heartbreak do not mix well. Who would have thought.

Fed up, I make my way to an exit, feeling like fresh air might help. "I'll be back in a few."

It does feels somewhat relieving when the cool breeze courses through me the moment I step out, but it doesn't take away the feeling that I'm still being disloyal to Sandra. The girl that's no longer mine. Also the girl that cheated on me. It's honestly so weird to think that because nothing about her dishonesty is who I know Sandra to be. It's just so not like her. But I guess when your favourite ex comes around it isn't too hard to fold.

I take another big gulp from the bottle I carried with me, wanting so badly to get her off my mind. Wanting so badly to stop missing her.

"Shit." I say as I bump into someone. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry." The girl frantically says.

I steal a glance at her, and I notice similar lingerie to the strippers in the club clinging onto her dark skin. Seemingly in a hurry to get back in, I barely get a glance at her face but there's something about the curve of her nose and the shape of her eyes that looks so familiar, but I brush it off. She probably just has one of those faces.